The Norse discoverers of America
Date: 2025-06-26T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: America -- Discovery and exploration -- Norse

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Title: The Norse discoverers of America
the Wineland sagas translated & discussed

Author: G. M. Gathorne-Hardy

Release date: June 26, 2025 [eBook #76383]

Language: English

Original publication: Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1921

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/76383

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE NORSE DISCOVERERS OF AMERICA ***

THE
NORSE
Discoverers of
AMERICA

Oxford University Press
London      Edinburgh      Glasgow      New York
Toronto      Melbourne      Cape Town      Bombay
Humphrey Milford Publisher to the University

THE
NORSE
Discoverers of
AMERICA

The Wineland Sagas
translated & discussed
By G. M. Gathorne-Hardy, F.R.G.S.

OXFORD
AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
M CM XXI

TO
H. A. L. FISHER
WHO FIRST REVEALED TO ME
THE FASCINATION OF HISTORICAL PROBLEMS
AND WHO ENCOURAGED THIS WORK
IN ITS EARLY STAGES
IN GRATITUDE FOR MUCH PATIENT TUITION
AND IN MEMORY OF NEW COLLEGE DAYS
I DEDICATE THIS BOOK

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION | Page 7
PART I. TRANSLATION
Chronological Summary | 18
Genealogical Table | 20
1. Eric the Red and the colonization of Greenland | 21
* 2. The adventure of Bjarni Herjulfson | 25
3. Of Thorbjörn Vifilson | 28
4. Gudrid comes to Greenland | 30
5. Gudrid and the Sibyl | 33
6. Leif goes to Norway | 37
* 7. Leif discovers Wineland | 40
* 8. Thorvald’s Voyage and Death | 45
9. Thorstein’s Unsuccessful Venture | 49
* 10. The Expedition of Thorfin Karlsefni | 52
11. Freydis | 67
Appendix of Alternative Versions and Supplementary Passages | 73
PART II. DISCUSSION
1. Nature of the Evidence | 88
2. Discrepancies of the Flatey Book | 113
3. The Stories as History | 147
4. Skrælings | 173
5. The ‘Dægr’ and ‘Eyktarstad’ Problems | 196
6. The Voyages. General Considerations | 221
7. The Voyages in Detail: Bjarni, Leif, Thorvald | 244
8. Karlsefni’s Expedition | 261
9. Aftermath and Conclusion | 282
BIBLIOGRAPHY | 299
INDEX | 301

* Sections in Part I marked thus are those dealing with the discovery and exploration of America.

INTRODUCTION

The study which has culminated in the production of the present volume had been pursued for a number of years, and the work itself was approaching completion, when the events of August 1914 necessitated its abandonment, while the writer was called away from literary tasks by the claims of active service. It is hoped, however, that the consequent delay has not been altogether regrettable. In the first place, it has enabled a fresh eye to be cast over what had previously been written, with the result that some modifications have been made, which are, it is hoped, an improvement. In the second place, the author found on his return that there had been during the interval considerable additions to the literature dealing with his subject. Worthy of special mention among works too recent to have been read before the outbreak of war are the monographs of Babcock (1913), Hovgaard (1915), and Steensby (1918); these with Finnur Jónsson’s important paper in the Aarbog for Nordisk Oldkyndighed, &c. for 1915, while they have not modified the views hereinafter expressed, have been deemed worthy of close consideration and have necessitated a considerable amount of re-writing: the minor works of Neckel (1913), Kolischer (1914), Bruun (1915), and Mr. Maurice Hewlett’s work of fiction based on these sagas under the title of Gudrid the Fair (1917) also fall within the same period. The last-named book, while making no pretence to deal scientifically with the subject, has been of particular interest to the present writer, from the fact that its author comes to the same conclusion with regard to Karlsefni’s ultimate landfall as that advocated in these pages. The possibility of such an interpretation of the data supplied in the sagas is admitted, in a rather hesitating manner, in the History of the State of New York, by Yates and Moulton (1824); with this exception the writer has been unable to trace any other authority taking the view which he has independently formed. Yates and Moulton appear to have depended for their information on a translation from a Swedish book, Schröder’s Om Skandinavernes fordna upptäcktsresor till Nord Amerika (Upsala, 1818), which seems to have been based exclusively on the version of the story contained in the Flatey Book; this does not by itself provide enough information to enable a definite conclusion to be formed.

In spite of a considerable bibliography, the early Norse voyages to America provide a still unexhausted field for investigation and discussion. So far are the authors who have dealt with the subject from reaching final and unchallenged conclusions that it may almost be said that each fresh commentator provides new matter for controversy. Apart from the fascinating problem of attempting to locate on the map the various parts of the American continent visited by the first explorers, the historic value of the evidence has been the subject of the most varied estimates, though it may be said that nowadays no student of the subject has remained completely sceptical. The relative importance to be attached to the different versions of the narrative has also been much debated, and will no doubt continue to be so, though on this point most recent critics will be found arrayed in the opposite camp to the present writer. As regards the precise situation of the Norse discoveries, most points from Northern Labrador and even Baffin’s Land to well down the Eastern coastline of the United States have their advocates, who by a judicious selection of the evidence have all managed to find something to say in favour of their respective points of view. In these circumstances it is felt that no apology is needed from one who has given the matter close and protracted study, if he ventures to add his quota to the discussion.

The topic is moreover one on which the man in the street—at any rate in England—stands in considerable need of enlightenment. There are probably few acknowledged historical facts on which the general public is more surprisingly ignorant. Considering that the available data compare favourably with what is known of the later discoveries of Cabot and Corte Real, it is regrettable to find, as any one will who takes the trouble to mention the matter to a dozen friends selected at random, that to most of them the fact that the Norsemen visited America is quite unknown, while by the remainder it is probably regarded as a vague legend, containing perhaps a kernel of truth, but to be ranked no higher than the Welsh tale of Madoc and similar insubstantial traditions.

When Dr. Nansen’s In Northern Mists appeared, three allusions were made to it in Punch, the point of which was in every case that the eminent explorer had proved that the honour of the first discovery of America belonged to his compatriots. Of course, as a matter of fact, the proof was forthcoming long ago, and Dr. Nansen, so far from adding to it, is one of the most sceptical of the authorities dealing with the subject; but here, as is usually the case, our leading humorous paper has faithfully represented the views and the knowledge of the average educated man.

It is perhaps not altogether surprising that the circle of the initiated has been so restricted. The principal works dealing with the question, with very few exceptions, are either written in foreign tongues, or entombed in the pages of inaccessible scientific periodicals or in works mainly concerned with a wider field, or have been published so long ago that as the life of books goes nowadays the man in the street can hardly be expected to have read or to have remembered them. Reeves’ Finding of Wineland the Good, one of the likeliest books on the subject to have fallen into the hands of the general reader, is now more than twenty years old. How many books—other than standard classics—of a similar age, come under the eyes of members of the ordinary public?

It must be confessed, too, that a taste for Icelandic literature is not widely prevalent in this country. The man in the street, if the author’s experience of him is typical, does not find the method of story-telling which enthralled contemporary Icelandic audiences at all to his mind. He cannot stomach the long genealogies, on which no doubt the original reader or listener insisted in order that he might add to the story the flavour of personal interest arising from the inclusion of ancestors, friends, or acquaintances. He gets confused and irritated by names of unfamiliar sound, with uncouth nicknames attached, many of the former closely resembling one another. When he has at length managed to become engrossed in some thread of the story, he finds himself suddenly switched off to follow the fortunes of other characters, the previous mention of whom he had forgotten, and finally losing his bearings he throws the book down in disgust. The present writer has on this account considered carefully whether it would not have been better to transpose the two parts of this work, putting the translation last, but he feels that such an arrangement would be illogical, and would make the arguments used in discussing the question much more difficult to follow. As a sop to the indolent he has, however, marked in the table of contents the parts of the story dealing with the American discoveries, though he feels personally that those who skip the remainder will miss some very interesting matter, including the vivid description of the sibyl’s séance.

It is hoped that it is not doing the average Englishman an injustice to say that the word ‘saga’ generally conveys to his mind an utterly false idea. Very often he seems to think of a saga as poetry; almost invariably as romance. In view of this it is perhaps necessary to point out that almost all we know of the early history of Scandinavia, and all that we know in the cases of Iceland and Greenland, is derived from what can only be described as saga literature. Saga simply means story, originally a story told by word of mouth, often in the lifetime of those whose achievements it celebrated; and the great mass of the earlier sagas aimed at historical truth, not of course at the scientific accuracy of modern times, but at combining adherence to facts with the exigencies of picturesque narrative, like the Books of Kings or any early historical works. In fact, as will be indicated later on (Part II, Chapter I), the historical saga of Iceland compares favourably with the early history of most other countries, for a variety of reasons.

Probably the erroneous ideas current on the subject arise to some extent from what may be called the Morris tradition in translating sagas into English. The associations of the quaint language used in this convention are poetical and consequently romantic; the words are obsolete in modern prose, whereas the language of pure saga of the historical period is prosaic to the verge of baldness, the statement of facts so direct and terse as to be almost crude. Why then should we be told that men ‘hove into a cheapingstead’ rather than that they came to a market? Why should we have ‘hight’ for named, ‘mickle’ for much or many or great, ‘may’ for girl or maiden, ‘yeasay’ for consent, and so forth? It serves no purpose except to show that at some bygone period Scandinavian left its traces on the English language, and produces an idea of the character of the literature translated which is the very reverse of the true one.

What one should aim at reproducing in a translation—and particularly a translation with an historical purpose—is surely the effect produced on the audience for which the original was composed. It may be right in translating Homer to avoid crude modernism, for Homer was archaic to the people of any known historical period, but when we have one Icelander telling another how his grandfather or even his nearer contemporary fared at the hands of other men living under precisely the same conditions as the listener, surely it is wrong to make use of English calling insistently and continually for the help of a glossary.

Now, whether or no the present writer can be successful in popularizing any Icelandic translation, to those who complain, as some may, that his rendering is crudely modern, he replies that such is his deliberate intention, for so it seems to him did the old Icelanders tell their plain unvarnished tales. Art there was no doubt, in the arrangement of the story, an art which kept in mind the demands of the contemporary audience and which would in all probability have been modified to captivate a different taste. But the diction is throughout more straightforward, realistic, and unadorned than any other to be met with in literature. And as this treatment seems appropriate to the narration of historical facts, so as to bring conviction to the mind of the hearer, the author has perhaps even gone too far in his desire to emphasize this characteristic.

In one respect he has certainly taken a liberty. The incidental impromptu verses which are incorporated in sagas would, in a literal rendering, be almost as incomprehensible as in the original Icelandic. Nearly every phrase, according to the convention of the time, involves a riddling circumlocution, something like Samson’s ‘Out of the eater came forth meat’. For example, the hymn of Herjulf’s Hebridean companion, a verse of which is given in the chapter on Bjarni, would read in a literal translation somewhat as follows:—

‘I pray the blameless monk-trier to assist my travels, may the lord of the high hall of the earth hold over me the hawk’s perch.’ Here ‘the blameless monk-trier’ is God, who tries the hearts of good men, ‘the high hall of the earth’ is the sky or heaven, and—most obscure of all—‘the hawk’s perch’ is the hand, an allusion to falconry. Only after unravelling these riddles does one arrive at the true meaning—‘Sinless God, who triest the hearts of thy saints, guide my wanderings; Lord of heaven, hold thy hand over me and so protect me.’ This ultimate meaning has been here paraphrased metrically, sacrificing the characteristics of early Scandinavian verse in the interests of a clear and intelligible historical narrative. And in the same way the translations of other incidental verses aim at reproducing the effect on the mind of an intelligent listener, rather than the mere words which produced that effect. Apart from these cases, the writer, while allowing himself a certain amount of freedom in passages upon which nothing turns, has sacrificed every other consideration to literalness where any argument may depend on the text.

A word or two remains to be said about the arrangement adopted. As the reader will discover, the material is provided by three texts,[1] embodying two independent versions which are in some cases difficult to reconcile. The aim has been to present a consecutive narrative drawn from all these sources indifferently. In only one case, however, has the order of events as given in any version been consciously interfered with. The Saga of Eric the Red, and Hauk’s Book—which, as will be seen, is substantially the same version—both begin with a chapter in which the only relevant name is that of Thorbjörn Vifilson, which appears in the concluding sentence. The object of the chapter is to introduce this character, whose daughter, Gudrid, may be described as the heroine of the story.

But this object is likely to be defeated with an English audience if the chapter is kept in its original position. For the saga, having just mentioned Thorbjörn, turns off characteristically to deal with Eric the Red and the colonization of Greenland, so that by the time Thorbjörn is introduced again the reader is likely to have forgotten all about him. It has consequently been thought better to begin with Eric and his wanderings, following this up with the description of Bjarni Herjulfson’s voyage and discoveries from the Flatey Book, which are intimately connected with Eric’s colonization of Greenland both in date and circumstances. The author has then reverted to the actual beginning of the saga, connecting thus in one coherent narrative all parts of the story dealing with Thorbjörn Vifilson. Having brought this character and his daughter to Eric’s new home in Greenland, the original saga and the present edition alike turn to Leif Ericson, and describe his voyage to the court of Olaf Tryggvason in Norway. Inasmuch as the ‘accidental’ version of Leif’s discovery of America is incompatible with the introduction into the main story of the fuller account in the Flatey Book, the former has been relegated to the appendix and the latter incorporated in the principal text. It will be seen from the chapter on the Flatey Book that this is in the author’s opinion the most accurate historical treatment, but this is not the motive of his action. Whether the Flatey Book be right or wrong in ascribing Leif’s journey to a deliberate project, it contains by far the fullest account of his expedition, and for this reason merits a place in the main course of the story. But it cannot be included without excluding—or removing to a note or appendix—anything which conflicts with it. In the same way an account of the death of Thorvald Ericson which conflicts with the version of the Flatey Book has been taken out of the main text, and the fuller narrative substituted.

In every case, however, where an alternative version of any incident or episode exists, care has been taken to give it in the appendix, so that the reader may have all the material available for forming his own views on the question. Nothing is altogether omitted. The effect of what has been done is to provide a consecutive narrative, containing a fuller account of the Wineland voyages than is comprised in any one version, which may be summarized as follows:—

Eric the Red and his father come to Iceland. The latter dies. Eric marries: Leif is born. Eric makes the country too hot to hold him, and explores and colonizes Greenland. He is accompanied by one Herjulf, whose son, Bjarni, making an attempt to join him, is driven accidentally to America, whence he eventually returns to Greenland. Many years elapse during which we may suppose Leif Ericson to be growing up. During the interval we return to Iceland, and follow the fortunes of Thorbjörn Vifilson and his daughter Gudrid, up to the time when they too emigrate to Greenland. Next comes Leif’s voyage to Norway and his conversion, followed by his voyage of exploration in America and his rescue of Gudrid among others from shipwreck, somewhere on the Greenland coast. This is followed by Thorvald Ericson’s expedition and death, his brother Thorstein’s unsuccessful venture, the marriage of the latter to Gudrid and his death, and then by the arrival of Karlsefni in Greenland, his marriage to Gudrid, and his voyage to Wineland with his wife and companions. Last of all, we hear of another voyage to the new country under the auspices of Freydis, the illegitimate daughter of Eric the Red.

It is hoped that this connecting up of the material into one harmonious story couched in ordinary phraseology may render it more palatable to the general public than a more scientific treatment might prove, while those whom this volume entices deeper into the problems of this fascinating subject will find alternative readings and versions of the story included, without being unduly obtruded.

The writer, in fact, while submitting his views to the consideration of those who have studied the question, hopes especially that some members of the general public may find the subject take hold of them in precisely the same way in which it captivated him, now several years ago. First, interest in the story, the bare text without unnecessary note or comment; secondly a conviction of its historical accuracy in main features; thirdly an interest in the problems and discussions which it has evoked. Doubtless some will part company at each of these three stages, but if such parts of the book as they have not skipped have awakened in them any interest, the author’s task will not have been undertaken in vain.

CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY

870. | Ingolf comes to Iceland.
938. | Birth of Thorgrim, father of Snorri Godi.
c. 950. | Conjectural date of birth of Eric the Red.
963. | Birth of Snorri Godi.
982. | Eric’s first exploration of Greenland.
986. | Foundation of the Greenland colony. Bjarni discovers America.
999. | Leif arrives in Norway. His conversion.
1000. | Christianity established in Iceland. Leif converts Greenland. Death of Olaf Tryggvason. Bjarni in Norway with Eric Jarl.
1001. | Bjarni returns to Greenland.
1002. | Leif discovers Wineland.
1003. | Leif returns. Death of Eric the Red? and Thori, first husband of Gudrid.
1004. | Thorvald’s expedition.
1006. | Death of Thorvald.
1007. | Return of Thorvald’s expedition.
1008. | Thorstein’s expedition and death.
1009. | Gudrid returns to Brattahlid.
c. 1018. | Olaf the Holy sends Rörek to Leif Ericson.
c. 1019. | Karlsefni arrives in Greenland.
c. 1020. | Karlsefni marries Gudrid. They sail to Straumsfjord. Snorri born.
c. 1023. | Return of Karlsefni.
c. 1024. | Freydis’ voyage.
c. 1055. | Mean date of birth of Snorri’s children.
1067. | Birth of Ari the Learned. Adam of Bremen director of Bremen Cathedral School.
1076. | Death of Svein Estridson, informant of Adam of Bremen.
1085. | Birth of Bishop Thorlak, grandson of Snorri Karlsefnison.
1121. | Eric, Bishop of Greenland, sails for Wineland.
1133. | Death of Bishop Thorlak.
1148. | Death of Ari the Learned.
1162. | Death of Bishop Björn, Karlsefni’s great-grandson.
1163. | Ordination of Bishop Brand I.
1201. | Death of Bishop Brand I.
1285. | New land discovered west of Iceland.
1294. | Royal edict making trade with Greenland, &c. a crown monopoly.
1299. | Hallbera appointed abbess of Reynisness.
1334. | Death of Hauk.
1347. | A ship from Markland reported in Icelandic Annals.
1370–1387. | Compilation of the Flatey Book.

GENEALOGICAL TABLE

PART I. TRANSLATION

§1. ERIC THE RED AND THE COLONIZATION OF GREENLAND

This passage is common to all versions of the story. The source is Landnámabók, II. 14, which is accordingly the text followed here. The transcript in the Flatey Book is somewhat abridged. Additional matter supplied by any version of the story is given in italics.

Thorvald, son of Oswald, son of Wolf, son of Oxen-Thori, and Eric the Red, his son, came from Jæderen (in Norway) to Iceland because they were implicated in homicide. Iceland was then largely settled.[2] They took land in Hornstrands, and lived at Drange, where Thorvald died. Eric then married Thjodhild, daughter of Jörund Atlison and Thorberga the Ship-breasted, who at that time was married to Thorbjörn of Haukadal. Eric then moved from the north, and cleared ground in Haukadal, and settled at Ericstad near Vatshorn. Eric and Thjodhild had a son called Leif.[2] Now Eric’s slaves sent down a landslide on the house of Valthjof at Valthjofstad. Eyulf Saur, a relation of Valthjof, killed the slaves near Skeidsbrekka above Vatshorn. For this Eric killed Eyulf Saur; he also killed Hrafn the Duellist at Leikskáli. Geirstein and Odd of Jörfi, Eyulf’s relations, prosecuted Eric, whereupon he was banished from Haukadal. He then took Brokey and Öxney, and lived at Trade in Suderey the first winter. At this juncture he lent his hall-beams[3] to Thorgest. Afterwards Eric moved to Öxney, and lived at Ericstad. He then asked for his beams and failed to get them. Thence arose the quarrels and fights with Thorgest and his party which are related in Eric’s Saga.[4] [Thereupon he went in search of his beams to Breidabolstad, but Thorgest came after him. They fought a short way from the farm at Drange, where two sons of Thorgest fell, and some other men. After this both sides had a numerous following.[5] Styr Thorgrim’s son[4] helped Eric in the proceedings[4] as did Eyulf of Sviney, the sons of Thorbrand of Alptafjord and Thorbjörn Vifilson; but the sons of Thord Gelli and Thorgeir of Hitadal, Aslak from Langadal and his son Illugi sided with Thorgest. Eric and his men were outlawed at the Thorsness sessions. He made ready his ship in Ericsvág, but Eyulf hid him in Dimunavág while Thorgest and his men were looking for him about the islands. Thorbjörn and Eyulf and Styr escorted Eric out round the islands. He told them that he intended to look for the land which Gunnbjörn, son of Wolf the Crow, sighted when he was driven west past Iceland, when he discovered Gunnbjörn’s skerry. He said that he would come back and look up his friends if he discovered the country, and they parted on the best of terms. Eric said that he would repay them with such help as lay in his power if they should happen to need him.[6] Eric sailed out to sea past Snæfellsjökul, and arrived (on the Greenland coast) near Midjökul, which is now called Bláserk[7]; thence he sailed south along the coast, to ascertain if it was habitable there. He was the first winter at Ericsey near the centre of the Western Settlement[8]; the following spring he came to Ericsfjord, and took himself a site there. He went that summer to the western wilds, where he remained a long time[9]: he gave names to places there over a wide tract. The next winter he was at Ericsholm off Hvarfsgnipa, but the third summer he went right up north to Snæfell, and into Hrafnsfjord. Then he claimed to have come to the head of Ericsfjord. At this point he turned back, and he was at Ericsey off the mouth of Ericsfjord the third winter. But afterwards, in the summer, he returned to Iceland, and arrived in Breidafjord.

[He passed that winter with Ingolf at Holmlat. In the spring he was attacked by Thorgest and his men, and Eric was then defeated; after which they were reconciled.[10] That summer Eric went to colonize the country which he had discovered, and called it Greenland, stating as his reason that men would be much attracted thither if the country had a good name.[11]

Learned men tell us that the same summer that Eric the Red went to colonize Greenland[12] twenty-five ships[13] set sail from Breidafjord and Borgafjord, but only fourteen arrived at their destination: some were driven back, and some were lost. This was fifteen winters before Christianity was legally established in Iceland. Bishop Frederic and Thorvald Kodranson came out (to Iceland) the same summer.[12]

The following men who went out at this time with Eric took land in Greenland:—Herjulf took Herjulfsfjord, he lived at Herjulfsness; Ketil (took) Ketilsfjord; Hrafn, Hrafnsfjord; Sölvi, Sölvadal; Helgi[14] Thorbrandson, Alptafjord; Thorbjörn Glora, Siglufjord; Einar, Einarsfjord; Hafgrim, Hafgrimsfjord and Vatnahverfi; Arnlaug, Arnlaugsfjord; but some went to the Western Settlement.

Note, Hall-pillars. ‘Setstokkar’ are strictly speaking the horizontal beams running between the central hall and the side aisles on to which the bedrooms opened. They were frequently carved with the figures of Thor, or other heathen deities, and were a sacred and valuable family possession. The loan of such articles is difficult to explain, as they would be necessary to their owner, and at first sight of no use to a temporary borrower. Eric, however, had not at the time settled down in his new home; he would wait to build a suitable house until he had definitely fixed upon a site, and in the meantime presumably would not require his ‘setstokkar’. It may be that Thorgest represented that he wished to copy them, but we know of another use to which such things were put, which may throw some light on the matter. When Ingolf, the founder of the colony, wished to select a home for himself in Iceland, we are told that he ‘threw overboard the pillars of his holy place (öndugis sulur) for an omen, saying that he would settle in that place where the pillars came to land’ (Landnáma, 1. 6). This practice was evidently widely adopted, for we read (Landnáma, 3. 7) how Kraku-Hreidar ‘said that he would not throw his pillars overboard, saying that he considered it a poor thing to determine his plans in that way’. That ‘setstokkar’ were used in the same way as ‘öndugis sulur’ is shown by another passage in Landnáma (5. 9) where ‘Hástein threw his setstokkar overboard after the time-honoured custom’. There is something analogous in the usage, which is recorded in various traditions of the Scottish Highlands, whereby a man would take up his residence where the packs first fell from his horse after he set out on his travels. Thorgest was no doubt a native of Iceland, for he was the son of Stein the Great Sailor, who was settled in Breidabolstad, still he may have required supernatural aid in the choice of a new home.

§2. THE ADVENTURE OF BJARNI HERJULFSON

From the Flatey Book.

Herjulf was a son of Bard the son of Herjulf, who was related to Ingolf the founder of the Iceland colony. Ingolf gave land between Vóg and Reykjaness to Herjulf (the elder) and his people. Herjulf (the younger) lived first at Drepstok. He had a wife named Thorgerd, and their son was Bjarni, a very promising man. He had taken to foreign voyages from his youth. This brought him both wealth and credit, and he used to spend his winters alternately abroad and with his parents. Bjarni soon had a trading-ship of his own, and the last winter that he was in Norway was when Herjulf undertook the voyage to Greenland with Eric, and removed his home there. Herjulf had on board his ship a Christian from the Hebrides, who composed the Song of the Tidal Wave, which contains this verse:—

Almighty God, to whom alone
The hearts of all thy saints are known,
Sinless and just, to thee I pray
To guide me on my dangerous way:
Lord of the heavens that roof the land,
Hold o’er me thy protecting hand.

Herjulf settled at Herjulfsness; he was held in the greatest respect. Eric the Red lived at Brattahlid; he was the most distinguished person there, and was obeyed by all. Eric’s children were Leif, Thorvald, and Thorstein, and a daughter named Freydis, who was married to a man named Thorvard: they lived at Garda, where the cathedral is now: she was a very haughty woman, but Thorvard was a man of no account; she was married to him mainly for his money. People were heathen in Greenland at that time.

Bjarni arrived in his ship at Eyrar in the summer of the same year in the spring of which his father had sailed away. Bjarni was much concerned at the news, and would not discharge his cargo. His crew thereupon asked him what he meant to do; he replied that he meant to keep to his custom of passing the winter with his parents, ‘and I will’, said he, ‘take my ship on to Greenland, if you will accompany me’. They all said that they would abide by his decision; upon which Bjarni remarked, ‘Our voyage will be considered rash, since none of us have been in Greenland waters.’ Notwithstanding this they put to sea as soon as they had got ready, and they sailed for three days before the land was laid; but then the fair wind ceased, and north winds and fogs came on, and they did not know where they were going, and this went on for many days. After this they saw the sun, and so were able to get their bearings, whereupon they hoisted sail, and after sailing that day they saw land, and they discussed among themselves what land this could be, but Bjarni said he fancied that it could not be Greenland. They asked him whether he would sail to this land or not. ‘I am for sailing in close to the land’, he said, and on doing so they soon saw that the land was not mountainous, and was covered with wood, and that there were small knolls on it, whereupon they left the land on the port side, and let the sheet turn towards it. Then after sailing two days they saw another land. They asked Bjarni if he thought this was Greenland; he said that he did not think this was Greenland any more than the first place, ‘for it is said that there are very large glaciers in Greenland’. They soon neared this land, and saw that it was a flat country and covered with wood. At this point the fair wind dropped, whereupon the crew suggested that they should land there: but Bjarni would not. They considered that they were short both of wood and water. ‘You are in no want of either’, said Bjarni, but he got some abuse for this from his crew. He ordered them to hoist sail, which was done, and they turned the bows from the land, and sailed out to sea for three days before a south-westerly breeze, when they saw the third land: now this land was high and mountainous, with ice upon it. So they asked if Bjarni would put in there, but he said that he would not, since—as he put it—this land appeared to him to be good for nothing. Then without lowering sail they kept on their course along the coast, and saw that it was an island: once more they turned the bows away from the land, and held out to sea with the same breeze; but the wind increased, so that Bjarni told them to reef, and not crowd more sail than their ship and rigging could stand. They now sailed for four days, when they saw the fourth land. Then they asked Bjarni if he thought this was Greenland, or not. Bjarni replied, ‘This is most like what was told me of Greenland, and here we will keep our course towards the land.’ So they did, and that evening they came to land under a cape, which had a boat on it, and there on that cape lived Herjulf, Bjarni’s father, and it is from him that the cape received its name, and has since been called Herjulfsness.

Bjarni now went to his father, and gave up voyaging, and he was with his parents as long as Herjulf was alive, and afterwards he succeeded his parents, and lived there.

§3. OF THORBJÖRN VIFILSON

This passage is a translation from the text of Eric’s saga, collated with that of Hauk’s Book. Both are an accurate abridgement from the Landnámabók. The words italicized are in Hauk’s book only.

There was a warrior king named Olaf, who was called Olaf the White. He was a son of King Ingjald, son of Helgi, son of Olaf, son of Gudröd, son of Halfdan Whitelegs King of the Uplands. Olaf made a raiding voyage in the West, and conquered Dublin in Ireland and the Dublin district, and made himself king over it. He married Aud the Very Wealthy, daughter of Ketil Flatnose, son of Björn Buni, a great man from Norway. Their son was called Thorstein the Red. Olaf fell in battle in Ireland, whereupon Aud and Thorstein went away to the Hebrides. There Thorstein married Thurid, daughter of Eyvind Eastman and sister of Helgi the Lean: they had many children. Thorstein became a warrior king: he joined forces with Earl Sigurd the Rich, son of Eystein Glumri. They won Caithness and Sutherland, Ross and Moray, and more than half Scotland. Thorstein made himself king over this district, until the Scots betrayed him, and he fell there in battle. Aud was in Caithness when she heard of Thorstein’s fall. Thereupon she had a vessel built secretly in the wood, and when she was ready she sailed for the Orkneys. There she gave in marriage Thorstein the Red’s daughter Gró, who became the mother of Grelada, whom Earl Thorfinn the Skull-cleaver married. After this Aud went to look for Iceland; she had twenty free men on board. Aud came to Iceland, and stayed the first winter in Björnhaven with her brother Björn. Later on Aud took all the Dalelands between the rivers Dogurda and Skraumuhlaup, and she lived at Hvamm. She had a private chapel at Crossholes, where she had a cross set up, for she was baptized and of the true faith.

With her came out many distinguished men, who had been captured in the western raids and were nominally slaves. One of these was named Vifil. He was a man of good family, who had been taken captive beyond the western sea, and was nominally a slave until Aud freed him. And when Aud gave homes to her crew Vifil asked her why she did not give him a home like the rest. Aud said that it would make no difference, and remarked that he would be considered noble as he was. (Later on) Aud gave him Vifilsdal, and he settled there. He had a wife. Their sons were Thorgeir and Thorbjörn[15]: they were promising men, and they grew up with their parents.

§4. GUDRID COMES TO GREENLAND

Translation from the saga of Eric the Red: there are no material variations in Hauk’s Book.

Thorgeir Vifilson married, taking Arnora, daughter of Einar of Laugarbrekka, the son of Sigmund, the son of Ketil Thistil, who had taken Thistilsfjord. Einar had another daughter, named Hallveig; Thorbjörn married her, getting with her Laugarbrekkaland at Hellisvelli. Thorbjörn moved his home there, and became a most respected man. He was a local chief (goði), and had a magnificent estate. The daughter of Thorbjörn was called Gudrid; she was a very beautiful woman and most noble in all her behaviour.

There was a man called Orm, who lived at Arnarstapi. He had a wife named Halldis. Orm was a well-to-do yeoman, and a great friend of Thorbjörn, and Gudrid was brought up for a long time in his home. There was a man called Thorgeir, who lived at Thorgeirsfell. He was well off for money and had been freed from slavery. He had a son named Einar, who was a fine man and well-bred; he was also a great dandy. Einar was engaged in the trade between Iceland and Norway, a business in which he throve; he stayed alternate winters for an equal time in Iceland and Norway. Now at this point it must be told how one autumn when Einar was out here he went out with his wares along Snæfellness to sell them. He came to Arnarstapi. Orm asked him to stop there, and Einar accepted, for they were friends. His wares were carried into an outhouse. Einar opened his wares and showed them to Orm and his household, inviting him to take what he liked. Orm accepted, saying that Einar was a good sailor and a very lucky man. Now as they were engaged over the wares a woman passed the door of the outhouse. Einar asked Orm, ‘Who may that beautiful woman be who passed by the door there? I have not seen her here before.’ ‘That is Gudrid, my foster-child,’ replied Orm, ‘daughter of squire Thorbjörn of Laugarbrekka.’ ‘She would be a good match,’ said Einar, ‘but I suppose more than one man has come to ask for her hand.’ ‘Certainly there have been proposals, my friend,’ answered Orm, ‘but she is not to be snapped up by the first comer; it is thought that both she and her father will prove particular.’ ‘However that may be,’ said Einar, ‘she is the woman I mean to ask in marriage, so I wish that you would take up the suit for me with her father, and put all your mind into the matter to bring it about: for I shall consider it a most friendly act on your part. Squire Thorbjörn should see that a union between us would be a good thing, since he is a man of good standing and of good estate, but I am told that his wealth is greatly decreasing, while I and my father have no lack of land or goods, and it will be the strongest support to Thorbjörn if this proposal is accepted.’ ‘Certainly I consider myself a friend of yours,’ replied Orm, ‘but still I am unwilling to undertake this suit, for Thorbjörn is quick-tempered and a very proud man as well.’ Einar said that he would be content with nothing but that his proposal should be conveyed. Orm said he would undertake it. Einar went back south till he came home.

Some time afterwards Thorbjörn had a harvest festivity, as was his custom, for he was a man of a very generous disposition. Orm came there from Arnarstapi, and many others of Thorbjörn’s friends. Orm spoke to Thorbjörn, and said that Einar had arrived there from Thorgeirsfell, and that he had grown into a promising man. Then Orm started the proposal for Einar’s hand, and said that it would be a good thing for various reasons. ‘It might become a great source of strength to you, squire, from the pecuniary point of view.’ Thorbjörn replied, ‘I did not expect you to say such a thing as that I should give my daughter in marriage to the son of a slave. You evidently think that my wealth is on the wane, and Gudrid shall not stay with you any more, since you think her suited to so poor a match.’ After this Orm and all the other guests went home. Gudrid stayed thenceforward with her parents, and was at home that winter.

But in spring Thorbjörn gave a party and a good feast was prepared: many people came, and the feast was of the best. And at the feast Thorbjörn prayed silence and spoke as follows:—‘I have lived here a long time, I have experienced men’s goodwill and love towards me, and I admit that we have got on well together in our intercourse. But now my fortune is beginning to run low, though it has hitherto been thought no unworthy one. Now I will rather shift my home than lose my standing, rather quit the country than disgrace my family; so now I am resolved to fall back upon the word of my friend Eric the Red, which he gave me when we parted in Breidafjord, so now I mean to travel to Greenland this summer, if things go as I wish.’

This decision created a great sensation among the audience,—Thorbjörn had long been popular—but they felt sure that Thorbjörn, having made this announcement so publicly, could not be prevailed upon to draw back. Thorbjörn made presents to the guests, after which the banquet came to an end and the men went back to their homes. Thorbjörn sold his estates and bought a ship which was lying at the mouth of Hraunhaven. Thirty men accompanied him on his voyage. Orm of Arnarstapi and his wife were there, and such of Thorbjörn’s friends as were unwilling to part with him. Thereupon they put to sea. The weather was fine when they set out, but when they came into the ocean the fair breeze took off and they were caught in a great storm, and they made slow progress during the summer. Next a plague attacked their party, and Orm and Halldis his wife and half of them died. The sea began to rise, and they underwent a great deal of exhaustion and misery in many ways, yet they reached Herjulfsness in Greenland just as the winter began. Now a man named Thorkel lived at Herjulfsness. He was a good man and the principal landowner. He took in Thorbjörn and all his crew for the winter. Thorkel entertained them liberally. Thorbjörn and all his crew were well satisfied.

§5. GUDRID AND THE SIBYL

Translation from the saga of Eric the Red, collated with Hauk’s Book. Passages italicized occur only in Hauk’s Book.

At this time there was a great famine in Greenland; those men who had gone fishing had made but a small catch, while some did not return. There was in the settlement a woman named Thorbjörg; she was a prophetess, and was called the little sibyl. She had had nine sisters, who were all gifted with prophecy, but she alone remained alive. Thorbjörg was accustomed to attend banquets in the winter, and she was especially invited by those who were curious about their fate or the prospects of the season. And since Thorkel was the principal landowner there, he thought he would approach her to find out when these times of scarcity which were oppressing them would cease. Thorkel asked the prophetess to his house, where a good welcome was prepared for her, as was customary when this sort of woman was received. A throne was made ready for her, and a cushion laid beneath, in which there were hen’s feathers. Now when she came in the evening with the man who had been sent to fetch her she was attired as follows:—she had on a blue mantle, which was set with stones down to the hem; she had a rosary of glass on her neck and a black hood of lambskin lined with white catskin on her head, and she had a staff in her hand with a knob on it: it was ornamented with brass, and set with stones down from the knob: round her waist she had a belt of amadou on which was a great skin bag, in which she kept those charms which she needed for her art. On her feet she wore hairy calfskin shoes, the thongs of which were long and strong-looking and had great buttons of lateen on the ends. On her hands she had catskin gloves, which were white inside and furry.

Now when she came in every one thought it right to offer her courteous greetings, which she received according as they were agreeable to her. Squire Thorkel took the wise-woman by the hand, and led her to the throne which was ready for her. Thorkel then asked her to run her eyes over household and herd and home there. She spoke little about it all. In the evening a table was brought in, and at this point it must be told what food was made ready for the prophetess. There was made for her porridge of goat’s beestings, and for her food there were provided hearts of all living creatures which were obtainable; she had a brass spoon, and a knife with an ivory handle bound with copper, and the point was broken off. But when the table was cleared away Squire Thorkel approached Thorbjörg, and asked what she thought of the house, or the behaviour of the men, or how soon those things would become known to her which he had asked and men wished to know. She told him that she would not say before the following morning, when she had first slept the night.

But on the morrow late in the day the necessary preparations were made for her to carry out the spell. She asked that such women should be procured for her as were instructed in the knowledge which was needed for the spell, and was called ‘varðlokkur’.[16] But no such women were found, whereupon a search was made about the house to find if any one knew these things. Then Gudrid said, ‘I am not skilled in magic, nor a wise-woman, but Halldis my foster-mother taught me in Iceland that art which she called “varðlokkur”.’ ‘Then you are wiser than I thought,’ answered Thorbjörg. ‘This is a kind of lore and a proceeding’, said Gudrid, ‘which I intend in no way to forward, since I am a Christian woman.’ ‘It may be’, said Thorbjörg, ‘that you might become useful to the company in this matter, yet be no worse woman than before; however I will leave it to Thorkel to procure those things which are necessary to me.’ At this Thorkel urged Gudrid till she said she would do as he wished.

The women then made a circle about the platform, while Thorbjörg sat on the top of it; Gudrid sang the song so beautifully and well that those who were by thought that none had heard the song sung with a more beautiful voice. The prophetess thanked her for the song, and said that she had brought many spirits there who thought it delightful to hear the chant, since it was so well done, ‘who before wished to keep themselves aloof from us, and not to yield us any assistance: and many of those things are now clear to me which before were hidden from me and others. Now I can say that this famine will not last longer than this winter, and that the season will improve as the spring comes: the sickness which has so long oppressed you will grow better sooner than was hoped. But you, Gudrid, I will reward at once for the help which has been received from you, for your fate is now quite clear to me. You shall make the most distinguished match here in Greenland that is open to you, though it will not last you long, for your ways lie out to Iceland, where a great lineage and a good shall come from you, and over the branches of your stock bright rays shall shine. But now farewell and prosper, daughter mine.’

After this people approached the wise-woman, and every one inquired about that which he was most curious to know, and she was free with information, and that which she told turned out true. Next she was sent for from other houses, and she went there. Then they sent for Thorbjörn, for he would not be in the house while such heathen rites were in progress. The state of the weather improved quickly when spring came, as Thorbjörg had said. Thorbjörn made ready his ship and sailed till he came to Brattahlid. Eric received him with open arms, and said that he had done right to come there. Thorbjörn and his family passed the winter with him, but they lodged the crew with the farmers. Later in the spring Eric gave Thorbjörn land at Stokkaness, and a fine house was built there, where he lived thenceforward.

§6. LEIF GOES TO NORWAY

From the Saga of Eric the Red, collated with Hauk’s Book.

At that time Eric had a wife named Thjodhild, and by her two sons, one called Thorstein and the other Leif. They were both likely men. Thorstein lived at home with his parents, and no man in Greenland was considered so promising as he. Leif had sailed to Norway, and was with king Olaf Tryggvason. But when Leif sailed from Greenland in the summer they were driven by storms to the Hebrides. It was a long time before they had a fair wind thence, and they made a protracted stay there in the summer. Leif was attracted by a woman there, named Thorgunna.[17] She was a woman of good family, and Leif formed the opinion that she was gifted with supernatural knowledge. Now when Leif prepared to go away Thorgunna asked to go with him. Leif asked whether this would have the approval of her kin. She said that as to that she did not care. Leif replied that he could not carry off a lady of such high birth in an unknown country, especially considering how small a force he had. ‘It is not certain that the course which appeals to you is best,’ said Thorgunna. ‘I must risk that,’ said Leif. ‘Then I tell you’, said Thorgunna, ‘that I shall not suffer alone. I am with child, and I say that the child is yours. I prophesy that it will be a boy when it is born. And though you will not pay any heed still I will bring up the boy, and send him to Greenland as soon as he can go with other men. And I prophesy that the possession of this son will turn out such a joy as befits our parting. And I intend myself to come to Greenland before the end.’ Leif gave her a gold ring, and a cloak of Greenland homespun, and a belt of (walrus) ivory. This boy came to Greenland, and was named Thorgils. Leif accepted paternity; some men say that this Thorgils came to Iceland in the summer of the Froda miracle. But anyhow Thorgils came to Greenland, where it was thought that there was something uncanny about him up to the last.

Leif and his men sailed away from the Hebrides, and reached Norway in the autumn. Leif joined the court of king Olaf Tryggvason. The king treated him with honour, evidently recognizing that he must be a man of good breeding.

One day the king spoke to Leif, and said, ‘Do you mean to go out to Greenland this summer?’ ‘Yes,’ said Leif, ‘with your consent.’ ‘I think it will be well,’ replied the king, ‘you shall go with my mission, and preach Christianity in Greenland.’ Leif said he would consider it, but added that he thought such a mission would have a difficult task in Greenland. The king, however, said that he knew no fitter person for it than he, adding, ‘you will bring it good luck.’ ‘If so, the luck will be solely derived from you,’ said Leif.[18]

Leif landed in Ericsfjord, and went home afterwards to Brattahlid, where he was well received. He soon started preaching about the country Christianity and the Catholic Faith, and published the message of King Olaf Tryggvason, and told how great glory and treasure accompanied this creed. Eric was slow to abandon his religion, but Thjodhild was soon won over, and she had a church built, though not in the immediate neighbourhood of the houses, which was called Thjodhild’s Church: there she, and her fellow-converts, who were many, used to offer up their prayers. Thjodhild would not live with Eric after her conversion, and this he took very much to heart.

Note. Thorgunna and the Froda Miracle. From the mention of the Froda miracle it is clear that this must be the same Thorgunna who is mentioned in the Eyrbyggja Saga (R. L. Stevenson’s Waif Woman). On the other hand, neither the chronology nor the description of Thorgunna can be reconciled in the two sagas. According to Eyrbyggja (chap. 50) Thorgunna came to Iceland in the summer in which Christianity was legally established (a.d. 1000), and the Froda miracle, which was concerned with her death, followed immediately afterwards; Thorgils, her son, could not therefore have come to Iceland at this time unless he accompanied her as an infant, and he is not stated to have done so. Again, though the Eyrbyggja Saga agrees in describing Thorgunna as a Hebridean, and states that she had valuable dresses and other property with her, it gives the following account of her personal appearance, which does not suggest the maiden victim of Leif’s early passion:—‘Thorgunna was a woman of great size, broad and tall and very fat, swarthy and with eyes set close together, with a quantity of brown hair; most men considered that she would have reached the sixties.’ The words in Eric’s Saga, ‘some men say’, suggest that there were various accounts of the matter. As the whole story of the Froda miracle is obviously incredible, there may well be some inaccuracy about the date of her arrival in Iceland, which is really all that is required to reconcile the two stories.

§7. LEIF DISCOVERS WINELAND

From the Flatey Book.

Now the next event to be recorded (after the death of Olaf Tryggvason, September 1000) is that Bjarni Herjulfson came over from Greenland to Earl Eric (who became the ruler of a large part of Norway after Olaf’s death), and the earl gave him a good reception. Bjarni told the story of his voyage when he saw the (strange) lands, but people thought that he had been lacking in curiosity, since he had nothing to report about those countries, and some fault was found with him on this account. Bjarni was made an officer of the earl’s court, but the following summer he went out to Greenland.

There was now much talk of exploration. Leif, Eric the Red’s son from Brattahlid, went to Bjarni Herjulfson and bought a ship of him, and engaged a crew of thirty-five men. Leif asked his father Eric still to be leader of the expedition.[19] Eric excused himself, saying that he was now an old man, and less fitted to bear all the hardships than formerly. Leif said that he was still the member of the family who would bring the best luck; Eric thereupon gave way to Leif, and as soon as they were ready for it he rode from home, and came to within a short distance of the ship. The horse which Eric was riding stumbled, and he fell off and hurt his foot. Then Eric said, ‘I am not fated to discover more countries than this in which we are now settled, and we ought not to bear one another company any longer.’ So Eric went home to Brattahlid, but Leif went on board with his companions, thirty-five men. There was a southerner (German) on the expedition called Tyrker.

Now they prepared their ship, and when they were ready they put to sea, and they found first the country which Bjarni found last. There they sailed up to the land, and having cast anchor and lowered a boat went ashore, and saw no grass there. The background was all great glaciers, and all the intermediate land from the sea to the glaciers was like one flat rock, and the country seemed to them destitute of value. Then Leif said, ‘We have not failed to land, like Bjarni; now I will give this country a name, and call it Helluland (the land of flat stone).’ Thereupon they returned on board, after which they sailed to sea and discovered the second land. Again they sailed up to the land and cast anchor, then lowered the boat and went ashore. This land was low-lying and wooded, and wherever they went there were wide stretches of white sand, and the slope from the sea was not abrupt. Then Leif said, ‘This land shall be given a name from its resources, and shall be called Markland (woodland),’ after which they returned to the ship as quickly as possible. And they sailed after that in the open sea with a north-east wind, and were out two days before they saw land, towards which they sailed, and having come to an island which lay to the north of the mainland they landed on it, the weather being fine, and looked round; and they perceived that there was a dew on the grass, and it came about that they put their hands in the dew, and carried it to their mouths, and thought that they had never known anything so sweet as that was. Then they went back to the ship, and sailing into the sound which lay between the island and the cape which ran north from the mainland they steered a westerly course past the cape. It was very shallow there at low tide, so that their ship ran aground, and soon it was a long way from the ship to the sea. But they were so very eager to get to land that they would not wait for the tide to rise under their ship, but hurried ashore where a river came out of a lake; but when the sea had risen under their ship they took the boat and rowed to the ship, and took her up the river and afterwards into the lake, where they cast anchor, and carrying their leather kitbags ashore they put up shelters, but later, on deciding to pass the winter there, they made large houses.

There was no want of salmon, either in the river or the lake, and bigger salmon than they had seen before; the amenities of the country were such, as it seemed to them, that no cattle would need fodder there in the winter; there came no frost in the winter, and the grass did not wither there much. Day and night were more equally divided there than in Greenland or Iceland: on the shortest day the sun was up over the (Icelandic) marks for both nones and breakfast time.[20]

Now when they had finished building their houses, Leif said to his men, ‘Now I will divide our party into two, and have the country explored: and one half shall stay at home in camp while the other explores the country, going no further than they can return by the evening, and not separating.’ And so for a time they did this, Leif sometimes going with the explorers and at others staying at home in camp. Leif was a big, strong man, the handsomest of men in appearance, and clever; in fact he was in all respects an excellent commander.

It happened one evening that a man of their party was missing, and this was Tyrker the southerner. Leif was much distressed at this, for Tyrker had been long with his father and him, and had been very fond of Leif as a child: so now Leif, after finding great fault with his men, prepared to look for him, taking a dozen men with him. But when they had got a little way from camp Tyrker came towards them, and was received with joy. Leif saw at once that his foster-father was in good spirits.

Tyrker had a projecting forehead and a very small face with roving eyes; he was a small and insignificant man, but handy at every kind of odd job.

Then Leif said to him, ‘Why are you so late, my foster-father, and why did you separate from your companions?’ Tyrker at this spoke for a long time in German, rolling his eyes and grimacing, but the others did not distinguish what he was saying. But a little later he said in Norse, ‘I did not go much further than you, (but) I have found something fresh to report. I found vines and grapes.’ ‘Is that true, foster-father?’ said Leif. ‘Certainly it is true,’ he replied, ‘for I was born where there was no lack of vines or grapes.’

Now they slept that night, but in the morning Leif said to his crew, ‘We will now do two things, keeping separate days for each; we will gather grapes and cut down vines, and fell wood, to make a cargo for my ship,’ and this suggestion was adopted. The story goes that their pinnace was full of grapes. So a cargo was cut for the ship, and in spring they made ready and sailed away, and Leif gave the country a name according to its resources, and called it Wineland.

So after this they put to sea, and the breeze was fair till they sighted Greenland, and the mountains under its glaciers. Then a man spoke up and said to Leif, ‘Why are you steering the ship so much into the wind?’ ‘I am paying attention to my steering,’ replied Leif, ‘but to something else as well: what do you see that is strange?’ They said they could see nothing remarkable. ‘I do not know’, said Leif, ‘whether it is a ship or a reef that I see.’ Then they saw it, and said that it was a reef. But Leif was longer sighted than they, so that he saw men on the reef. ‘Now,’ said Leif, ‘I wish that we should beat up wind, so as to reach them if they need our help and it is necessary to assist them, and if they are not peaceably disposed we are masters of the situation and they are not.’ So they came up to the reef, and lowered their sail and cast anchor: and they launched a second dinghy that they had with them. Then Tyrker asked who was the captain (of the shipwrecked party). ‘His name is Thori,’ was the reply, ‘and he is a Norseman, but what is your name?’ Leif told his name. ‘Are you a son of Eric the Red of Brattahlid?’ said Thori. Leif assented. ‘Now,’ said Leif, ‘I will take you all on board my ship, and as much of your stuff as the ship can hold.’ They agreed to these terms, and afterwards they sailed to Ericsfjord with this freight, until they came to Brattahlid where they unloaded the ship. After that Leif invited Thori and Gudrid his wife, and three other men to stay with him, and procured lodgings for the rest of the crews, both Thori’s men and his own. Leif took fifteen men from the reef; he was subsequently called Leif the lucky. So Leif gained both wealth and honour. That winter Thori’s folk were much attacked by sickness, and Thori and a great part of his crew died.[21]

§8. THORVALD’S VOYAGE AND DEATH

Translation from the Flatey Book.

Now there was much discussion of Leif’s expedition to Wineland, and Thorvald, his brother, thought that the exploration of the country had been confined to too narrow an area. So Leif said to Thorvald, ‘If you wish, brother, you shall go to Wineland in my ship: but I wish the ship to go first for the wood which Thori had on the reef.’ And this was done. Thereupon Thorvald prepared for this expedition, taking thirty men, by the advice of Leif, his brother. Afterwards they made their ship ready and held out to sea, and there is no report of their voyage before they came to Wineland to Leif’s camp. There they laid up their ship, and remained quiet that winter, catching fish for their food. But in the spring Thorvald told them to make ready their ship, and ordered the ship’s pinnace with some of the crew to go to the west of the country and explore there during the summer. It seemed to them a fine wooded country, the trees coming close down to the sea, and there were white sands. There were many islands, and many shoals. They found no traces either of men or beasts, except that on an island to the west they found a wooden barn.[22] Finding no further human handiwork they returned, and came to Leif’s camp in the autumn. But the next summer Thorvald sailed to the east with his trading ship, and along the more northerly part of the country: then a sharp storm arose off a cape, so that they ran ashore, breaking the keel under their ship; so they made a long stay there to repair their vessel. Then Thorvald said to his companions, ‘Now I wish that we should raise up the keel here on the cape, and call it Keelness,’ and so they did. Afterwards they sailed away thence and eastward along the coast and into the nearest fjord mouths, and to a headland which ran out there: it was all covered with wood. Then they moored their ship, and put out the gangway to land, and there Thorvald went ashore with all his crew. Then he remarked, ‘This is a beautiful spot, where I should like to make my home.’ After this they returned to the ship, and saw on the sands inside the headland three lumps, and on approaching they saw three canoes of skin, with three men beneath each. Thereupon they divided their party, and laid hands on all of them, except one who escaped with his canoe. They killed the eight, and afterwards went back to the headland, when they saw inside in the fjord some mounds, which they took to be dwelling-places. After this there came over them so great a heaviness that they could not keep awake, and they all fell asleep. Then came a cry above them, so that they all woke up, and the cry was, ‘Awake, Thorvald, and all your company, if you value your life: and return to your ship with all your men, and leave the land with all speed.’ At that there came from within the fjord countless skin canoes, which made towards them. So Thorvald said, ‘We must set the war-shields over the side, and defend ourselves as well as we can, while assuming the offensive but little.’ So they did, but the savages,[23] after shooting at them for a while, afterwards fled away, each as quickly as he could. Then Thorvald asked his men if they were wounded at all; they said there were no casualties. ‘I have got a wound under the arm,’ said he; ‘an arrow flew between the gunwale and the shield under my arm and here it is, and it will be my death. Now my advice is that you prepare to go away as quickly as possible, after carrying me to that headland which I thought the best place to dwell in: maybe it was the truth that came into my mouth that I should stay there awhile. Bury me there with a cross at my head and at my feet, and call it Crossness hereafter for ever.’ Greenland was then converted, though Eric the Red died before conversion.

Now Thorvald died, but they carried out all his instructions, after which they went and met their companions, and told each other such tidings as they knew, and they stayed there that winter, gathering grapes and vines for their ship. Then in the spring they prepared to go back to Greenland, and arrived with their ship in Ericsfjord, with great news to tell Leif.

Note. ‘A wooden barn’. (Kornhjálm af tre). This is the only allusion, direct or indirect, which is made to corn in the course of the Flatey Book version. It is frequently referred to as one of the absurdities affecting the credit of this part of the story. But it does not seem to me to have any necessary or probable connexion with the wild corn of the Saga of Eric. The ‘selfsown wheat’ is never mentioned by the historian of the Flatey Book; unlike the wild grapes, he does not seem to have heard of this feature. It is therefore impossible to suppose that the barn is an imaginary feature introduced to colour the reports of wild corn. It is recorded merely as the only trace of human occupation met with during the exploration conducted in the ship’s pinnace. And its very inappropriateness to the uncultivated crops of which we are told in the rival version seems to me a strong proof of its authenticity. Like the whole of this part of the story, it is too purposeless to be invented. We need not on this account imagine that it actually was a barn. The storage of Indian corn in New England, according to the earliest observers, was, for the most part at any rate, in holes in the ground, and an island remote from human habitation seems a most unlikely situation.

On the other hand, De Laet’s Nieuwe Werelt reports Hudson as having seen ‘a house well constructed of oak bark, and circular in shape, so that it had the appearance of being well built, with an arched roof. It contained a great quantity of maize or Indian corn, and beans of the last year’s growth, and there lay near the house, for the purpose of drying, enough to load three ships.’ (Hudson the Navigator, Hakluyt Society, p. 161).

But there may easily be a different interpretation. ‘Hjálm’ in its primary meaning is a conical helm, then a stack or cock of similar shape, and so finally a building used to cover such a stack of corn. Two possible explanations occur to me. One is that what was seen and originally reported was a structure of poles and bark of conical shape, and that the explorers, being unfamiliar at this time with savage architecture, assumed that it was intended to cover a rick of corn, which in shape it resembled. Alternatively it may be that originally the reference was solely to its shape, and not to its purpose, and that the first report mentioned a conical ‘stack’ of poles. In either case what was actually seen may well have been a deserted wigwam of poles and bark such as the Micmacs and other Indians build at the present day. In the earliest records similar dwellings are described, while in some cases those observed by Champlain appear to have been roughly dome-shaped at the top; this, as a glance at those illustrated in the sketch-maps of that writer will show, would give them even more exactly the form of a cock of hay or corn. It seems to me that the knowledge of the wild corn mentioned in Eric’s Saga and by Adam of Bremen has alone diverted the minds of previous commentators from this, the most probable explanation.

§9. THORSTEIN’S UNSUCCESSFUL VENTURE

Translation from the Flatey Book.

It had happened in Greenland, meanwhile, that Thorstein of Ericsfjord had taken in marriage Thorbjörn’s daughter Gudrid, who, as has already been mentioned, had been the wife of Thori Eastman. Now Thorstein Ericson wished to go to Wineland for the body of Thorvald his brother, so he made ready the same ship, choosing his crew for their strength and size; and with twenty-five men and Gudrid his wife they put to sea when they were ready, and lost sight of land. All the summer they tossed about in the open, and did not know where they went, and in the first week of winter they made the land at Lysefjord in Greenland in the Western Settlement.

Thorstein looked for lodgings for the party, and got them for all his crew, but he and his wife were houseless. So they remained behind by the ship some two nights. Christianity was still new then in Greenland. One day some men came to their tent early in the morning. So these men who were there asked what persons were in the tent. Thorstein replied: ‘Two persons,’ he said, ‘but who are you who ask?’ ‘My name is Thorstein,’ (said one of the men), ‘and I am called Thorstein the Black, but my errand here is to invite both of you to lodge with me.’ Thorstein said that he wished to consult his wife, but she told him to decide, whereupon he accepted. ‘Then,’ (said the man), ‘I will come for you to-morrow with a carthorse, for I have plenty of room to take you in; but it is very dull to stay with me, for there are just the two of us, my wife and I, and I am of a very obstinate disposition. I hold a different faith from you, though I consider that which you hold is superior.’ So then he came for them in the morning with a horse, and they went to lodge with Thorstein the Black, and he treated them well. Gudrid was a woman of striking appearance, and a clever woman who could get on well with strangers. Early in the winter a plague attacked Thorstein Ericson’s party, and many of his companions died there. Thorstein ordered coffins to be made for the bodies of those who died, and directed that they should be taken to the ship and looked after, ‘for’, he said, ‘I wish to remove all the bodies to Ericsfjord in the summer.’ Now after a short interval plague attacked Thorstein’s house, and his wife, whose name was Grimhild, was the first to fall ill. She was very energetic, and as strong as a man, yet the plague got the better of her, and soon afterwards Thorstein Ericson caught the plague, and they were both laid up at the same time: and Grimhild, wife of Thorstein the Black, died. Now when she was dead Thorstein (the Black) went out of the room for a plank to lay the body on. Then Gudrid spoke: ‘Do not stay away long, my Thorstein,’ she said. He said it should be as she wished. Then said Thorstein Ericson, ‘Wonderful things are happening to our hostess now, for she is raising herself up with her elbows, and moving her feet from the bench, and groping for her shoes’: and with that Thorstein the owner of the place came in, whereupon Grimhild laid herself down, and every beam in the room creaked. Now Thorstein made a coffin for Grimhild’s body, and took it away and made preparations. He was a big man and strong, but he needed all this before he got her out of the house. Now the illness of Thorstein Ericson grew worse, and he died. Gudrid his wife hardly realized it. They were all in the room at the time. Gudrid had seated herself on a chair before the bench on which Thorstein her husband had been laid. Then Thorstein the owner of the house took Gudrid from the chair in his arms, and sat on another bench with her opposite Thorstein’s corpse, and spoke to her about it in many ways, and comforted her, promising her that he would go with her to Ericsfjord with the bodies of Thorstein her husband and his companions, and said, ‘I will also engage more servants here to console and entertain you.’ She thanked him. Then Thorstein Ericson sat up and cried, ‘Where is Gudrid?’ Three times he said this, but she remained silent. Then she said to Thorstein of the house, ‘Shall I answer his speech or not?’ He told her not to answer. Then Thorstein of the house crossed the floor, and sat on the chair with Gudrid on his knees, and then he spoke, saying, ‘What do you want, namesake?’ A moment passed, and the other answered: ‘I am anxious to tell Gudrid her fortune, so that she can the better bear my death, for I have come to a good resting-place. Now there is this to tell you, Gudrid, that you will be married to a man of Iceland, and your life together will be long, and a great line of men will spring from you, vigorous, bright and good, sweet and of a good savour. You will travel from Greenland to Norway, and thence to Iceland, where you will build a home. There the two of you will live long, and you will survive him. You will go abroad and make a pilgrimage to Rome (lit.: go south), and come back home to Iceland, and then a church will be built there where you will remain and take the vows of a nun, and there you will die.’ Upon this Thorstein sank back, and his body was prepared and carried to the ship. Thorstein of the house thoroughly performed all that he had promised Gudrid. He sold his land and livestock in the spring, and accompanied Gudrid to the ship with all that was his; he made the ship ready and engaged a crew, and then sailed away to Ericsfjord. The bodies were now buried by the church. Gudrid went to Leif at Brattahlid, while Thorstein the Black built a house on Ericsfjord, where he stayed during his life, being considered the most chivalrous of men.

§10. THE EXPEDITION OF THORFIN KARLSEFNI

Translation from the text of the saga of Eric the Red collated with that of Hauk’s Book. Passages in italics from Hauk’s Book only.

There was a man named Thord, who lived at Höfda in Höfdastrand. He married Fridgerda, daughter of Thori Hyma and of Fridgerda daughter of Kjarval king of the Irish. Thord was a son of Björn Byrdusmör, son of Thorvald Hrygg, son of Asleik, son of Björn Ironside, son of Ragnar Shaggy-Breeches. They had a son called Snorri: he married Thorhild Rype, a daughter of Thord Gelli: their son was Thord Horsehead. Thord Horsehead had a son called Thorfin Karlsefni, who lived in the north at Reynisness in Skagafjord, as it now is called. Besides being of a good stock Karlsefni was a wealthy man. His mother’s name was Thorunn. He was in the cruising trade, and had a good reputation as a sailor.

One summer Karlsefni made ready his ship for a voyage to Greenland. Snorri Thorbrandson from Alptafjord joined him,[24] and they had forty men with them. A man named Bjarni Grimolfson from Breidafjord, and another called Thorhall Gamlison[25] from Eastfjord both made ready their ship the same summer as Karlsefni to go to Greenland; they had forty men on board. They put to sea with these two ships, when they were ready. We are not told how long they were at sea; suffice it to say that both these ships arrived at Ericsfjord in the autumn. Eric and other settlers rode to the ships, where they began to trade freely: the skippers told Gudrid[26] to help herself from their wares, but Eric was not behindhand in generosity, for he invited the crews of both ships to his home at Brattahlid for the winter. The traders accepted this offer and went with Eric. Thereupon their stuff was removed to the house at Brattahlid, where there was no lack of good large out-buildings in which to store their goods, and the merchants had a good time with Eric during the winter.

But as it drew towards Christmas Eric began to be less cheerful than usual. One day Karlsefni came to speak to Eric, and said: ‘Is anything the matter, Eric? It seems to me that you are rather more silent than you used to be; you are treating us with the greatest generosity, and we owe it to you to repay you so far as lies in our power, so tell us what is troubling you.’ ‘You have been good and courteous guests,’ replied Eric, ‘my mind is not troubled by any lack of response on your part, it is rather that I am afraid it will be said when you go elsewhere that you never passed a worse Christmas than when you stayed with Eric the Red at Brattahlid in Greenland.’[27] ‘That shall not be so,’ replied Karlsefni, ‘we have on our ships malt and meal and corn, and you are welcome to take of it what you will, and make as fine a feast as your ideas of hospitality suggest.’ Eric accepted this offer, and a Christmas feast was prepared, which was so splendid that people thought they had hardly ever seen so magnificent a feast in a poor country.

And after Christmas Karlsefni asked Eric for Gudrid’s hand, since it appeared to him to be a matter under Eric’s control, and moreover he thought her a beautiful and accomplished woman. Eric answered, saying that he would certainly entertain his suit, but that she was a good match; that it was likely that she would be fulfilling her destiny if she was married to him, and that he had heard good of Karlsefni. So then the proposal was conveyed to her, and she left it to Eric to decide for her. And now it was not long before this proposal was accepted, and the festivities began again, and their wedding was celebrated. There was a very merry time at Brattahlid in the winter with much playing at draughts and story-telling, and a great deal to make their stay pleasant.

[At this time there was much discussion at Brattahlid during the winter[28] about a search for Wineland the Good, and it was said that it would be a profitable country to visit; Karlsefni and Snorri resolved to search for Wineland, and the project was much talked about, so it came about that Karlsefni and Snorri made ready their ship to go and look for the country in the summer.[29] The man named Bjarni, and Thorhall, who have already been mentioned, joined the expedition with their ship, and the crew which had accompanied them. There was a man named Thorvald[30] (evidently Thorvard), who was connected by marriage with Eric the Red. He also went with them, and Thorhall who was called the Hunter, he had been long engaged with Eric as hunter in the summer,[31] and had many things in his charge. Thorhall was big and strong and dark, and like a giant: he was rather old, of a temper hard to manage, taciturn and of few words as a rule, cunning but abusive, and he was always urging Eric to the worse course. He had had little dealings with the faith since it came to Greenland. Thorhall was rather unpopular, yet for a long time Eric had been in the habit of consulting him. He was on the ship with Thorvald’s men,[32] for he had a wide experience of wild countries. They had the ship which Thorbjörn had brought out there, and they joined themselves to Karlsefni’s party for the expedition, and the majority of the men were Greenlanders. The total force on board their ships was 160 men.[33] After this they sailed away to the Western Settlement and the Bear Isles. They sailed away from the Bear Isles with a northerly wind. They were at sea two days. Then they found land, and rowing ashore in boats they examined the country, and found there a quantity of flat stones, which were so large that two men could easily have lain sole to sole on them: there were many arctic foxes there. They gave the place a name, calling it Helluland. Then they sailed for two days with north wind, and changed their course from south to south-east, and then there was a land before them on which was much wood and many beasts. An island lay there off shore to the south-east, on which they found a bear, and they called it Bjarney (Bear Island), but the land where the wood was they called Markland (woodland).

[Then when two days were passed they sighted land, up to which they sailed. There was a cape where they arrived.[34] They beat along the coast, and left the land to starboard: it was a desolate place, and there were long beaches and sands there. They rowed ashore, and found there on the cape the keel of a ship, so they called the place Keelness: they gave the beaches also a name, calling them Furdustrands (the Wonder Beaches) because the sail past them was long. Next the country became indented with bays, into one of which they steered the ships.]

Now when Leif was with king Olaf Tryggvason and he commissioned him to preach Christianity in Greenland, the king gave him two Scots, a man called Hake and a woman Hekja. The king told Leif to make use of these people if he had need of speed, for they were swifter than deer: these people Leif and Eric provided to accompany Karlsefni. Now when they had coasted past Furdustrands they set the Scots ashore, telling them to run southward along the land to explore the resources of the country and come back before three days were past. They were dressed in what they called a ‘kjafal’,[35] which was made with a hood above, and open at the sides without sleeves: it was fastened between the legs, where a button and a loop held it together: otherwise they were naked. They cast anchor and lay there in the meanwhile. And when three days were past they came running down from the land, and one of them had in his hand a grape-cluster while the other had a wild (lit: self-sown[36]) ear of wheat. They told Karlsefni that they thought that they had found that the resources of the country were good. They received them into their ship, and went their ways, till the country was indented by a fjord. They took the ships into the fjord. There was an island outside, about which there were strong currents, so they called it Straumsey (Tide or Current Island). There were so many birds[37] on the island that a man’s feet could hardly come down between the eggs. They held along the fjord, and called the place Straumsfjord, and there they carried up their goods from the ships and prepared to stay: they had with them all sorts of cattle, and they explored the resources of the country there. There were mountains there, and the view was beautiful. They did nothing but explore the country. There was plenty of grass there. They were there for the winter, and the winter was severe, but they had done nothing to provide for it, and victuals grew scarce, and hunting and fishing deteriorated. Then they went out to the island, in the hope that this place might yield something in the way of fishing or jetsam. But there was little food to be obtained on it, though their cattle throve there well. After this they cried to God to send them something to eat, and their prayer was not answered as soon as they desired. Thorhall disappeared and men went in search of him: that lasted three successive days. On the fourth day Karlsefni and Bjarni found Thorhall on a crag; he was gazing into the air with staring eyes, open mouth, and dilated nostrils, and scratching and pinching himself and reciting something. They asked him why he had come there. He said it was no business of theirs, told them not to be surprised at it, and said that he had lived long enough to make it unnecessary for them to trouble about him. They told him to come home with them, and he did so. Soon afterwards there came a whale, and they went to it and cut it up, but no one knew what sort of whale it was. Karlsefni had a great knowledge of whales, but still he did not recognize this one. The cooks boiled this whale, and they ate it, but were all ill from it: then Thorhall came up and said: ‘Was not the Red-Beard (Thor) more useful than your Christ? This is my reward for chanting of Thor my patron; seldom has he failed me.’ But when they heard this none of them would avail themselves of the food, and they threw it down off the rocks and committed their cause to God’s mercy: the state of the weather then improved and permitted them to row out, and from that time there was no lack of provision during the spring. They went into Straumsfjord, and got supplies from both places, hunting on the mainland, and eggs and fishing from the sea.

Now they consulted about their expedition, and were divided. Thorhall the Hunter wished to go north by Furdustrands and past Keelness, and so look for Wineland, but Karlsefni wished to coast south [and off the east coast, considering that the region which lay more to the south was the larger, and it seemed to him the best plan to explore both ways.[38] So then Thorhall made ready out by the islands, and there were no more than nine men for his venture, the rest of the party going with Karlsefni. And one day as Thorhall was carrying water to his ship he drank it, and recited this verse:

They flattered my confiding ear
With tales of drink abounding here:
My curse upon the thirsty land!
A warrior, trained to bear a brand,
A pail instead I have to bring,
And bow my back beside the spring:
For ne’er a single draught of wine
Has passed these parching lips of mine.[39]

After this they set out, and Karlsefni accompanied them by the islands.

Before they hoisted their sail Thorhall recited a verse:

Now let the vessel plough the main
To Greenland and our friends again:
Away, and leave the strenuous host
Who praise this God-forsaken coast
To linger in a desert land,
And boil their whales in Furdustrand.[40]

Afterwards they parted, and they sailed north past Furdustrands and Keelness, and wished to bear westward; but they were met by a storm and cast ashore in Ireland, where they were much ill-treated and enslaved. There Thorhall died, according to the reports of traders.

Karlsefni coasted south with Snorri and Bjarni and the rest of their party. They sailed a long time, till they came to a river which flowed down from the land and through a lake into the sea: there were great shoals of gravel there in front of the estuary and they could not enter the river except at high tide. Karlsefni and his party sailed into the estuary, and called the place Hóp.

They found there wild (lit: self-sown) fields of wheat wherever the ground was low, but vines wherever they explored the hills. Every brook was full of fish. They made pits where the land met high-water mark, and when the tide ebbed there were halibut in the pits. There was a great quantity of animals of all sorts in the woods. They were there a fortnight, enjoying themselves, without noticing anything further: they had their cattle with them.

And one morning early, as they looked about them, they saw nine skin canoes, on which staves were waved with a noise just like threshing, and they were waved with the sun. Then Karlsefni said, ‘What is the meaning of this?’ Snorri answered him, ‘Perhaps this is a sign of peace, so let us take a white shield and lift it in answer,’ and they did so. Then these men rowed to meet them, and, astonished at what they saw, they landed. They were swarthy[41] men and ugly, with unkempt hair on their heads. They had large eyes and broad cheeks. They stayed there some time, showing surprise. Then they rowed away south past the cape.

Karlsefni and his men had made their camp above the lake, and some of the huts were near the mainland while others were near the lake. So they remained there that winter; no snow fell, and their cattle remained in the open, finding their own pasture. But at the beginning of spring they saw one morning early a fleet of skin canoes rowing from the south past the cape, so many that the sea was black with them,[42] and on each boat there were staves waved. Karlsefni and his men raised their shields, and they began to trade: the (strange) people wanted particularly to buy red cloth, in exchange for which they offered skins and grey furs. They wished also to buy swords and spears, but Karlsefni and Snorri forbade this. The savages got for a dark skin a spans length of red cloth, which they bound round their heads.[43] Thus things continued for awhile, but when the cloth began to give out they cut it into pieces so small that they were not more than a finger’s breadth. The savages gave as much for it as before, or more.

It happened that a bull belonging to Karlsefni’s party ran out of the wood, and bellowed loudly: this terrified the savages, and they ran out to their canoes, and rowed south along the coast, and there was nothing more seen of them for three consecutive weeks. But when that time had elapsed they saw a great number of the boats of the savages coming from the south like a rushing torrent, and this time all the staves were waved widdershins, and all the savages yelled loudly. Upon this Karlsefni’s men took a red shield and raised it in answer. The savages ran from their boats and thereupon they met and fought; there was a heavy rain of missiles; the savages had war-slings too. Karlsefni and Snorri observed that the savages raised up on a pole a very large globe, closely resembling a sheep’s paunch and dark in colour, and it flew from the pole up on land over the party, and made a terrible noise where it came down. Upon this a great fear came on Karlsefni and his party, so that they wished for nothing but to get away up stream, for they thought that the savages were setting upon them from all sides, nor did they halt till they came to some rocks where they made a determined resistance.

Freydis came out, and seeing Karlsefni’s men retreating she cried out, ‘Why are such fine fellows as you running away from these unworthy men, whom I thought you could have butchered like cattle? Now if I had a weapon it seems to me that I should fight better than any of you.’ They paid no attention to what she said. Freydis wished to follow them, but was rather slow because she was not well; yet she went after them into the wood, pursued by the savages. She found before her a dead man, Thorbrand Snorreson, with a flat stone standing in his head: his sword lay beside him. This she took up, and prepared to defend herself with it. Then the savages set upon her, but she drew out her breast from beneath her clothes and beat the sword upon it: with that the savages were afraid, and running back to their ships they withdrew. Karlsefni’s men came up to her and praised her courage. Two men of Karlsefni’s force fell, but four[44] of the savages, although the former were outnumbered. So then they went back to their huts, and bound their wounds, and considered what that force could have been which set upon them from the land side; it now appeared to them that the attacking party consisted solely of those who came from the ships, and that the others must have been a delusion.

Moreover the savages found a dead man with an axe lying beside him. One of them took up the axe and cut at a tree, and then each of the others did so, and they thought it a treasure and that it cut well. Afterwards one of them cut at a stone, and the axe broke, whereupon he thought that it was useless, since it did not stand against the stone, and threw it down.

It now appeared to Karlsefni’s party that though this country had good resources yet they would live in a perpetual state of warfare and alarm on account of the aborigines. So they prepared to depart, intending to return to their own country. They coasted northward, and found five savages in skins sleeping by the sea; these had with them receptacles in which was beast’s marrow mixed with blood. They concluded that these men must have been sent from the country[45]: they killed them. Later on they discovered a promontory and a quantity of beasts: the promontory had the appearance of a cake of dung, because the beasts lay there in the winter.[46] Now they came to Straumsfjord, where there was plenty of every kind.

Some men say that Bjarni and Freydis[47] stayed there with a hundred men and went no further, while Karlsefni and Snorri went south with forty men, staying no longer at Hóp than a scant two months, and returning the same summer.[48]

They considered that those mountains which were at Hóp and those which they now found were all one, and were therefore close opposite one another, and that the distance from Straumsfjord was the same in both directions.[49] They were at Straumsfjord the third winter.

At this time the men were much divided into parties, which happened because of the women, the unmarried men claiming the wives of those who were married, which gave rise to the greatest disorder. There Karlsefni’s son, Snorri, was born the first autumn, and he was three winters old when they left.[50]

On sailing from Wineland they got a south wind, and came to Markland, where they found five savages, one of whom was bearded. There were two women and two children: Karlsefni’s men caught the boys, but the others escaped, disappearing into the ground. But they kept the two boys with them, and taught them speech, and they were christened. They called their mother Vætilldi and their father Uvægi. They said that the savages’ country was governed by kings, one of whom was called Avalldamon and the other Valldidida. They said that there were no houses there: people lived in dens or caves. They reported that another country lay on the other side, opposite to their own, where people lived who wore white clothes, and uttered loud cries, and carried poles, and went with flags. It is thought that this was Hvítramannaland, or Ireland the Great. So then they came to Greenland, and stayed with Eric the Red for the winter.

Then Bjarni Grimolfson was carried into the sea of Greenland,[51] and came into a sea infested by the teredo, and the first thing they noticed was that the ship beneath them was worm-eaten. So they discussed what plan should be adopted. They had a boat which was coated with seal-tar. It is said that the teredo does not eat wood which is coated with seal-tar. The majority declared in favour of the proposal to man the boat with such men as she would accommodate. But when this was tested the boat would not accommodate more than half the crew. Bjarni then said that the manning of the boat should be by lot, and not by rank. But every man who was there wished to go in the boat, and she could not take them all. For this reason[52] they agreed to the course of drawing lots for the manning of the boat from the ship. So the result of the drawing was that Bjarni drew a seat in the boat, and about half the crew with him. So those who had been chosen by the lots went from the ship into the boat. When they had got into the boat, a young Icelander, who had been one of Bjarni’s companions, said, ‘Do you mean, Bjarni, to desert me here?’ Bjarni replied, ‘So it has turned out.’ ‘This is not what you promised me’, said he, ‘when I left my father’s house in Iceland to go with you.’ ‘But still’, said Bjarni, ‘I do not see any other course in this predicament: but answer me, what course do you advise?’ ‘The course I see’, said he, ‘is that we change places, and you come here while I go there.’ Bjarni answered, ‘Be it so. For I see that you cling greedily to life, and think it a hard thing to die.’ Thereupon they changed places. This man went down into the boat, while Bjarni got on board the ship, and men say that Bjarni was lost there in the teredo sea, with those men who were on board with him. But the boat and those on board of her went their ways, till they came to land, at Dublin in Ireland, where they afterwards told this story.

Note. Snorri Thorbrandson comes to Greenland. The Eyrbyggja Saga (chap. 48) mentions this emigration of Snorri Thorbrandson as an event taking place ‘after the reconciliation of the men of Eyr and Alptafjord’. The ingenuity of commentators in constructing a difficulty is well exemplified in connexion with this passage. Chapter 49 begins with the words ‘it was next after this that Gizur the White and Hjalti his son-in-law came out with the mission of Christianity, and all men in Iceland were baptized, and Christianity was legally established at the general sessions’. The events thus described happened in the year 1000. If therefore the emigration of Snorri Thorbrandson is taken as the event after which Christianity was introduced, a discrepancy in the chronology is apparent. A reference to the context shows, however, that chapter 48 concludes the section of the saga which deals with the dispute between the men of Eyr and Alptafjord. It is in accordance with the usual practice in such cases that the subsequent fate of the principal characters should be briefly indicated. Thus in the Flatey Book the Wineland episode concludes with the subsequent careers of Karlsefni and Gudrid, and the mention of their descendants. The book then reverts to the consideration of other matters following upon the death of Olaf Tryggvason. It is therefore quite unnecessary to regard Snorri’s journey to Greenland and his Wineland adventures as taking place immediately after the settlement of the feud in which his family were concerned, while the introduction of Christianity is the next main episode after the Eyr-Alptafjord quarrel, and does not necessarily follow in date the minor facts recorded in winding up this matter. It may further be pointed out that the sequence of the two chapters is not the same in all MSS. of the Eyrbyggja Saga.

Apart from this question of chronological discrepancy this passage strongly corroborates the Wineland story, for it goes on to state how ‘Snorri went to Wineland the Good with Karlsefni; when they fought with the savages there Thorbrand Snorrison, the bravest of men, fell there’. Some texts read ‘Snorri Thorbrandson’ for ‘Thorbrand Snorrison’, but, apart from the occurrence of the correct name in what is probably the most reliable manuscript, the sense seems to demand a different name from that of the original subject of the sentence, while to substitute Snorri, incorrectly, for a similar name not previously mentioned is a natural and characteristic error for a copyist to commit.

§11. FREYDIS

Translation from the Flatey Book.

Now talk began again about the journey to Wineland, for the voyage thither seemed both lucrative and honourable. The same summer that Karlsefni returned from Wineland there came a ship from Norway to Greenland, commanded by two brothers, Helgi and Finnbogi, and they stayed that winter in Greenland. These brothers were of an Icelandic stock from Eastfjord. Now the story goes that Freydis, Eric’s daughter, made a journey from her home at Garda, and went to see the brothers, Helgi and Finnbogi, and invited them to go to Wineland with their ship, and divide with her all the profit they might make out of it. They consented. From them she went and interviewed her brother Leif, whom she asked to give her the houses which he had had built in Wineland; but he gave her the same answer as before, that he would lend the houses but not give them.[53] So it was arranged between the brothers[54] and Freydis that each should take thirty fighting men on board, besides women. But Freydis broke these terms at once, and took five extra men, whom she hid, so that the brothers knew nothing of it before they reached Wineland.

Now they put out to sea, having arranged to sail together as far as practicable, and as it turned out there was not much difference between them, but the brothers were slightly the first to arrive, and took their belongings up to Leif’s camp. But when Freydis arrived her ship was unloaded, and her things taken up to the camp. Then Freydis said, ‘Why have you brought your property in here?’ ‘Because we imagined’, said they, ‘that the whole arrangement between us was going to be kept.’ ‘Leif lent me the houses,’ said she, ‘but not you.’ Then Helgi said, ‘We brothers are no match for you in wickedness’: so they carried out their goods, and made themselves a camp, which they placed further from the sea by the shore of a lake, and they thoroughly settled in, while Freydis had wood cut for her ship.

Now when winter set in the brothers suggested that games should be started to pass the time. This went on for a while, until a quarrel arose which led to discord between them, and the games stopped, and no one went from the one camp to the other. This state of things continued for a long time during the winter. Then one morning early Freydis got out of bed and dressed, but put nothing on her feet: and it happened that there was a heavy dew. She took her husband’s cloak, and went out to the brothers’ house, to the door: now a man had been out shortly before, and had left the door ajar. She opened the door, and stood for a while in the doorway without saying anything, till Finnbogi, who was lying furthest from the door and who was awake, said, ‘What do you want here, Freydis?’ She replied, ‘I want you to get up and come out with me, and I want to talk to you.’ He did as she asked, and they went to a log which was lying under the wall of the house, and sat down on it. ‘How are you enjoying yourself?’ she said. ‘I like the country,’ he replied, ‘but I do not like the quarrel which has sprung up between us, for I do not see any reason for it.’ ‘There you speak truly,’ said she, ‘and I am of the same opinion, but my reason for coming here to you is that I want to buy the ship which belongs to you brothers, for you have a larger ship than I, and I wish to go away from this place.’ ‘I will agree to that’, said he, ‘if it will please you.’ With that they separated; she went home, and Finnbogi went to bed. She climbed into bed with her cold feet, and waked Thorvard with them, so that he asked her why she was so cold and wet. She answered with great vehemence, ‘I have been to the brothers to bid for their ship, since I wanted to buy a larger ship; but they took it so ill that they beat me and grossly maltreated me: and you, miserable man, will neither avenge my shame nor your own; but I can realize now that I am not in Greenland, and I will separate from you if you will not avenge this.’ And when he could bear her reproaches no longer he ordered his men to get up at once and take their weapons, and having done so they went to the brothers’ house, and they went in to them as they slept, and took them and bound them, and brought each man out as he was bound, and Freydis had each one killed as he came out. Now all the men were killed, but the women were left, and no one would kill them. Then said Freydis, ‘Hand me an axe.’ So they did, and she killed the five women who were there, and left them dead.

Now after that outrage they returned to their camp, and Freydis appeared to them to think that she had arranged matters perfectly: and she said to her men, ‘If we are lucky enough to get back to Greenland I shall contrive the death of anyone who tells of these doings; we must rather say that they stayed behind here when we came away.’

So early in the spring they made the ship ready which had belonged to the brothers, and loaded it with all the good things which they could collect and the ship would hold. After this they put to sea, and had a rapid voyage, and came with their ship to Ericsfjord early in the summer. Karlsefni was there then, ready to put to sea, and waiting for a breeze, and it is said that no richer ship ever left Greenland than this which he commanded.

Freydis now went to her house, which had stood safe meanwhile, and having given large presents to all her followers, because she wished to hush up her misdeeds, she settled down at home. But all were not so close as to keep silent about their crimes and wickedness, that it should not leak out anywhere. So now it came to the knowledge of her brother Leif, who thought it a thoroughly bad business. Then Leif took three men of Freydis’s crew and tortured them till they told the whole of the circumstances, and their stories tallied with one another. ‘I cannot bring myself’, said Leif, ‘to treat Freydis, my sister, as she deserves, but I will predict of them that their stock will never be worth much.’ And the end of it was that no one from that time forward thought anything but ill of them.

Now we must go back to the point where Karlsefni made ready his ship and sailed to sea. He made a good passage, and arriving in Norway safe and sound he stayed there for the winter and sold his wares, and both he and his wife were honourably received by the noblest men in Norway. But in the following spring he made his ship ready to sail to Iceland, and when he was quite ready and his ship was waiting for a breeze alongside the quay, a southerner came to him who was of Bremen in Saxony, and bargained with Karlsefni for his ‘húsa-snotra’.[55] ‘I will not sell it’, said he. ‘I will give you half a mark of gold for it’, said the southerner. Karlsefni thought it a good bid, and thereupon they clinched the bargain. The southerner went away with the ‘húsa-snotra’; now Karlsefni did not know what wood it was, but it was ‘mausur’ come from Wineland.

Now Karlsefni put to sea, and came with his ship along the north of the land to Skagafjord, and his ship was laid up there for the winter. But in the spring he bought Glaumbæjarland, and built a house there, where he passed the remainder of his life: he was a most noble man, and many men and a good stock are descended from him and his wife Gudrid. And when Karlsefni was dead, Gudrid and Snorri her son, who was born in Wineland, took over the management of the place. But when Snorri married Gudrid went abroad, and made a pilgrimage to Rome (lit.: went south), and returned to the house of Snorri her son, who had by that time had a church built at Glaumbæjar. Afterwards Gudrid became a nun and lived the life of a recluse, and she remained there while she lived. Snorri had a son named Thorgeir, who was father of Ingveld, mother of Bishop Brand. Snorri Karlsefnison had a daughter named Hallfrid, she was the mother[56] of Runolf, the father of Bishop Thorlak. There was a son of Karlsefni and Gudrid called Björn; he was the father of Thorunn, the mother of Bishop Björn. Many men are descended from Karlsefni, and he became blessed in his descendants: and Karlsefni has told most clearly of all men the incidents of all these voyages, of which something has now been related.

APPENDIX

ALTERNATIVE VERSIONS AND SUPPLEMENTARY PASSAGES

1. Eric the Red.

Eyrbyggja Saga, chap. 24.

At the same sessions the family of Thorgest the Old and the sons of Thord Gelli prosecuted Eric the Red for the slaughter of Thorgest’s sons, which had occurred in the autumn, when Eric went after his beams to Breidabolstad; and these sessions were very well attended. The parties had previously had a numerous following. During the sessions Eric had a ship made ready for sea in Ericsvág in Oxney: and Eric’s party were assisted by Thorbjörn Vifilson and Styr the Slayer and the sons of Thorbrand of Alptafjord and Eyulf Æsuson from Sviney; but Styr was Eric’s sole supporter at the sessions, and he drew away from Thorgest all the men he could. Styr then asked Snorri Godi not to attack Eric after the sessions with Thorgest’s men, promising Snorri in return that he would help him another time, if he should happen to get into difficulties; and because of this promise Snorri lost interest in the proceedings. Now after the sessions Thorgest and his men went with a number of ships in among the islands, but Eyulf Æsuson hid Eric’s ship in Dimunavág, where Styr and Thorbjörn met Eric: Eyulf and Styr followed Arnkel’s example by escorting Eric together on his journey out round Ellida Island.

On that expedition Eric the Red discovered Greenland, and stayed there three winters, after which he went to Iceland, where he stayed one winter before setting out to colonize Greenland, and that was fourteen winters before Christianity was legally established in Iceland.

From Ari’s Íslendíngabók.

That land, which is called Greenland, was discovered and colonized from Iceland. It was a man called Eric the Red from Breidafjord who went out thither from this country, and he settled in the place which was afterwards called Ericsfjord: he named the country, and called it Greenland; saying that the fact that the country had a good name would attract men to journey thither. They found there, both in the east and the west of the country, dwellings of men, and fragments of canoes, and stone implements of a kind from which one may tell that there the same kind of people had passed who have settled in Wineland, and whom the Greenlanders call ‘skrælings’ (savages). Now when he started to colonize the country it was fourteen to fifteen winters before Christianity came here to Iceland, according to what was told Thorkel Gellison in Greenland by one who himself accompanied Eric the Red.

2. Leif.

Saga of Olaf Tryggvason (Fríssbók text).

The same winter Leif, the son of Eric the Red, was with King Olaf, in great favour, and he adopted Christianity. But that summer when Gizur went to Iceland King Olaf sent Leif to Greenland, to preach Christianity there. He sailed that summer to Greenland. He found at sea men on a wreck, whom he assisted. Then too he discovered Wineland the Good, and he came in the autumn to Greenland. He brought thither a priest and other clergy, and he went home to Eric his father at Brattahlid. Men called him afterwards Leif the Lucky. But Eric, his father, said that the account was balanced, by Leif’s rescue of the crew at sea, and his importation of the hypocrite to Greenland. This referred to the priest.

Kristni Saga (Hauk’s Book).

That summer Olaf the king went from the country south to Wendland: then too he sent Leif Ericson to Greenland, to preach the faith there: then Leif found Wineland the Good, he found also men on a wreck at sea, wherefore he was called Leif the Lucky.

Flatey Book, chap. 352 (in the body of the Saga of Olaf Tryggvason).

Then the king had the Long Serpent brought out, and many other ships both great and small. That same summer he sent Gizur and Hjalti to Iceland, as has already been written. Then King Olaf sent Leif to Greenland to preach Christianity there. The king got him a priest and some other holy men to baptize people there and teach them the true faith. Leif went that summer to Greenland, and brought into safety a crew of men who were at that time in distress and lay upon a wreck. He came at the end of that summer to Greenland, and went to Eric his father to stay at Brattahlid. Afterwards men called him Leif the Lucky. But Eric his father said that the account was balanced, in that Leif had rescued the crew and given the men life, and had brought a hypocrite to Greenland. So he called the priest. Yet by the counsel and persuasion of Leif, Eric and all the people in Greenland were baptized.

Saga of Eric the Red and Hauk’s Book, the latter italicized.

‘Leif put to sea when he was ready. He was driven about at sea for a long time, and lighted on lands whose existence he had not before suspected. There were wild (lit.: self-sown) wheatfields there, and vines growing. There were also those trees which are called “mösur”, and they had some samples of all these things: some of the trees were so large that they were used in house-building. Leif found men on a wreck and took them home with him, and got them all lodging for the winter. He showed in this the greatest courtesy and courage, as in many other ways, since he introduced Christianity into the country, and rescued the men, and he was ever afterwards called Leif the Lucky.’

Flatey Book.

When sixteen winters had passed since the time when Eric the Red crossed to live in Greenland, Leif, Eric’s son, travelled from Greenland to Norway: he came to Trondhjem in the autumn when King Olaf Tryggvason was come from the north from Halogaland (a.d. 999). Leif brought his ship into Nidaros, and went straight to King Olaf. The king preached the faith to him as he did to other heathen men who came to him. The king had an easy task with Leif, so he was baptized, and all his crew; Leif stayed with the king during the winter, and was hospitably entertained.

3. Thorvald’s Voyage.

Hauk’s Book: the companion text is here badly confused by the copyist.

Karlsefni went with one ship to look for Thorhall the Hunter, while the main body remained behind, and they travelled north past Keelness, and then bore along to the west of it, having the land on their port side. There there was nothing but desolate woods, with hardly any open places. And when they had sailed a long time, a river came down from the land from the east to the west: they entered the mouth of the river, and lay by its southern bank. It happened one morning that Karlsefni and his men saw before them on an open place a speck, which glittered before them, and they shouted at it; it moved, and it was a uniped, which darted down to the bank of the river by which they lay. Thorvald, son of Eric the Red, was sitting by the rudder, and the uniped shot an arrow into his entrails. Thorvald drew out the arrow, crying, ‘There is fat about my belly, we have reached a good country, though we are hardly allowed to enjoy it.’[57] Thorvald died of this wound soon afterwards. Then the uniped rushed away, and back northward. Karlsefni and his men pursued him, and saw him from time to time. The last they saw of him was that he ran towards a certain creek. Then Karlsefni and his men turned back. Thereupon a man sang this little ditty:

Hear, Karlsefni, while I sing
Of a true but wondrous thing,
How thy crew all vainly sped,
Following a uniped:
Strange it was to see him bound
Swiftly o’er the broken ground.

Then they went away, and back north, and imagined that they saw Uniped Land. They would not then risk their people further.

4. Thorstein’s Voyage.

Saga of Eric the Red and Hauk’s Book, the latter italicized.

At this time men spoke much of seeking for those countries which Leif had found. The leader of the project was Thorstein Ericson, a clever and popular man. Eric was also asked to join, since his luck and foresight were most highly thought of. He was a long time making up his mind, but he did not refuse what his friends asked;[58] so in the end they made ready the ship which Thorbjörn had brought over, and manned her with twenty men, taking little cargo, mostly arms and provisions. The morning when Eric rode from his home he took a casket containing gold and silver, which he hid before going on his way, but when he had hardly started he fell from horseback and broke a rib, and hurt his arm in the shoulder-joint, which made him cry out. In consequence of this mishap he told his wife to remove the money which he had hidden, considering that he had incurred this punishment by hiding it. Thereupon they sailed out from Ericsfjord in high spirits, thinking most favourably of their project. But they were tossed about for a long time in the ocean, and could not keep on the course which they desired. They sighted Iceland, and they came across birds from Ireland. Then their ship was driven out over the ocean. They came back in the autumn, exceedingly worn out and exhausted; they came to Ericsfjord at the beginning of winter. Then Eric said, ‘We were merrier in the summer sailing out of the fjord than we are now, and yet we have still much to be thankful for.’ Thorstein replied, ‘It is proper now for the leaders to think out some good plan for all these men who are here now unprovided for, and to get them lodging for the winter.’ Eric answered, ‘It is a true saying that one is only wise after the event, and our experience proves it. You shall now have your way in this matter.’ And so all who had no other lodging went with the father and son, after which they went home to Brattahlid, where they stayed during the winter.[59]

Now at this point the story tells how Thorstein Ericson proposed for the hand of Gudrid, Thorbjörn’s daughter. The proposal was accepted both by her and by her father, and the matter was concluded by the marriage of Thorstein to Gudrid, which took place at Brattahlid in the autumn. The festivity was a success, and very well attended. Thorstein had an estate in the Western Settlement, in the district known as Lysefjord. A man named Thorstein had also a share in the place: his wife’s name was Sigrid. Thorstein went to Lysefjord in the autumn, to his namesake, and Gudrid with him. They were given a good reception and stayed there for the winter. But as the winter drew on it happened that their estate was visited by a plague. The foreman there was a man named Gardi, who was an unpopular man: he was the first to fall ill and die. After that it was not long before one person after another fell ill and died. Then Thorstein Ericson and Sigrid, wife of (the other) Thorstein, fell ill, and one evening the latter wished to go to the yard which stood opposite the front door. Gudrid accompanied her, and they sat facing the doors. Then Sigrid uttered a cry. ‘We have been foolish’, said Gudrid, ‘to come unprotected into the cold weather, so let us go in at once.’ ‘It is not possible to do so’, replied Sigrid. ‘All the host of the dead is here before the doors, and there in the throng I recognize Thorstein your husband, and myself, and a sad sight it is.’ And when this passed off she said, ‘Now I do not see the host.’ The foreman had also vanished then, who had seemed to Sigrid at first to have a whip in his hand, and to have made as if to beat the host. After this they went in, and before morning came Sigrid was dead, and a coffin was made for her body. And the same day men were intending to go rowing out, and Thorstein conducted them to the quay, and in the twilight he went to see after their fishing. Then Thorstein Ericson sent his namesake word to come to him, saying that they were having an uneasy time in the house, for the housewife made as if to get on her feet, and get under the clothes by him; and when Thorstein came in she had come to the bedpost close to Ericson. He took her by the hands, and laid an axe to her breast. Thorstein Ericson died about sunset. (His namesake) Thorstein told Gudrid to lie down and sleep, saying that he would watch through the night over the bodies. She did as he told her and soon fell asleep, but when a little of the night was past Thorstein Ericson raised himself up, and said that he wished Gudrid to be called there, and that he wished to speak to her. ‘It is God’s will that this hour be given me for leave of absence, and for the perfecting of my advice.’ Thorstein went to Gudrid, and woke her, telling her to cross herself and pray God to help her, and said, ‘Thorstein Ericson has spoken to me, saying that he wishes to see you. Now you must decide what to do, for I cannot advise you.’ She replied, ‘It may be that this, this wonderful event, is meant for one of those things which are remembered afterwards, but I hope that God will watch over me. With God’s mercy I will risk speaking to him, for I must not at such a time shrink from harm to myself. I will do it lest he should go further, for I suspect that would happen otherwise.’ So then Gudrid went and saw Thorstein (her husband) and it seemed to her as if he shed tears, and spoke some words low in her ear so that she alone heard, and he said that those were blessed who kept the faith well, and mercy and succour attended them: but he said that many kept it ill:—‘That is no good custom which has prevailed here in Greenland since Christianity was introduced, to put men in unconsecrated ground with but little singing over them. I wish to be taken to the church with the others who have died here, but Gardi I wish to have burnt on a pyre as soon as possible, for he is the cause of all the apparitions which have been here this winter.’[60] He spoke to her also of her affairs, and said that she would have a great future. And he told her to beware of marrying a Greenlander: he told her too to contribute their money to the church, or to give it to poor men, and then he sank back for the second time.

The custom in Greenland, since the introduction of Christianity, had been that men were buried on the farms where they died, in unconsecrated ground, and a stake would be set up from their breasts, and later on, when priests came, the stake would be drawn up, and holy water poured in there, and a funeral service sung over them, though it might be long afterwards.[61]

The bodies were carried to the church at Ericsfjord and funeral services held over them by the priests. After this Thorbjörn died, and all his property then came to Gudrid. Eric took her in, and looked after her well.

5. Thorfin Karlsefni.

Flatey Book Version.

That same summer (when Thorstein the Black brought Gudrid to Ericsfjord) a ship came to Greenland from Norway, commanded by a man named Thorfin Karlsefni, who was a son of Thord Horsehead, son of Snorri Thordarson of (Höfda).[62] Thorfin Karlsefni was a wealthy man, and he stayed at Brattahlid with Leif Ericson during the winter. He soon turned his attention to Gudrid, and proposed to her, but she left it to Leif to answer for her. Afterwards they were betrothed, and their wedding took place that winter. There were the same discussions as before about a Wineland voyage, and people—both Gudrid and others—strongly urged Karlsefni to undertake that journey. So then his expedition was arranged, and he engaged his crew, sixty men and five women. Karlsefni agreed with his crew that they should have an equal share in any profit they might make. They had with them all kinds of cattle, because they proposed to colonize the country if they could. Karlsefni asked Leif for his houses in Wineland, but he declared that he would lend his houses but not give them. Afterwards they put out to sea with their ship, and arriving at Leif’s camp safe and sound they carried up their baggage.

They soon made a great and a good catch, for a whale both large and good was stranded there, upon which they went to the whale and cut it up; they were then in no want of food. The cattle went ashore there, but it soon came about that the males were unmanageable, and made great havoc about them. They had brought a bull with them. Karlsefni had wood cut, and shaped into a cargo for the ship, and laid the wood on a rock to season. They all took advantage of the valuable resources of the country, such as there were in the way of grapes and all kinds of game and good things. In the summer following the first winter they became acquainted with savages, a great crowd of whom came from the forest: their cattle were close by, and the bull began to bellow and roar very loudly; now this terrified the savages, and they ran away with their packs, which consisted of grey furs and sables and all kinds of peltries, and turning towards Karlsefni’s house they would have entered it, but Karlsefni had the doors guarded. Neither side understood the speech of the other: then the savages brought down their packs and undid them and offered their wares, desiring especially weapons in exchange, but Karlsefni forbade his men to sell weapons. And now he hit upon the idea of telling the women to carry out milk to them, and when they saw the milk they wished to buy that and nothing else. So then the result of the savages’ trading was that they carried away their purchases in their stomachs, but Karlsefni and his companions kept their bales and furs; so they went away.

Now the story goes that Karlsefni had a strong palisade made round his house, and preparations made there (for defence). At that time Gudrid, Karlsefni’s wife, bore a boy child, and the boy was called Snorri. Then at the beginning of the second winter the savages came to them in much greater numbers than before, with the same kind of wares as previously. Thereupon Karlsefni said to the women, ‘Now you must carry out the food for which there was a demand on the former occasion, and nothing else.’ And when they saw it they threw their packs in over the palisade.

But Gudrid was sitting in the doorway by the cradle of Snorri her son: then a shadow appeared in the doorway and there came in a woman in a black ‘namkirtle’. She was rather short, and had a band round her head; her hair was light brown; she was pale and had eyes so large that no one had ever seen eyes so large in a human head. She went up to where Gudrid was sitting, and said, ‘What is your name?’ ‘My name is Gudrid,’ said she; ‘but what is yours?’ ‘My name is Gudrid,’ said she. Then Gudrid the housewife beckoned with her hand to her to sit by her, when all of a sudden Gudrid heard a great crash, and the woman had then vanished, and simultaneously one of the savages was killed by one of Karlsefni’s servants, because he had wanted to steal their arms, whereupon they ran away as fast as possible, leaving their clothing and wares behind them. No one had seen that woman but Gudrid only.

‘Now we must take counsel,’ said Karlsefni, ‘for I imagine they will pay us a third visit in a strong and hostile body. Now the plan which we should adopt is that ten men go forward on to this point and show themselves there, while the rest of our force go into the forest and there cut clearings for our cattle, as the army comes out of the wood. We ought also to take our bull, and let it go before us.’

Now the place where their meeting was arranged had a lake on one side and the forest on the other. Karlsefni’s advice was followed, and the savages came into the place which Karlsefni had planned for the battle; so the fight took place, and many of the savages’ army fell. There was a tall and distinguished man in the army of the savages, who Karlsefni thought must be their chief: now one of the savages had taken up an axe, and having looked at it for a while he raised it against one of his fellows and hewed at him so that he fell dead; whereat the tall man took hold of the axe and looked at it for a time, after which he flung it into the sea as far as he could; and thereupon they fled into the forest, each one as best he might, and thus their fight then came to an end.

Karlsefni’s men were there all that winter, but in spring Karlsefni announced that he would not stay there longer, but would sail to Greenland. So then they made ready for their voyage, and they brought thence much that was of value in vines and grapes and furs. Now they put out to sea, and came safely to Ericsfjord with their ship, and were there for the winter.

6. Karlsefni’s Descendants.

Saga of Eric the Red with Hauk’s Book. (The latter italicized.)

The second summer after this Karlsefni came to Iceland, and Snorri[63] with him, and he went home to Reynisness. His mother thought that he had made a poor match, and so Gudrid was not at their house the first winter. But when she found that Gudrid was a very fine lady she came home, and they got on well together.

The daughter of Snorri Karlsefnison was Hallfrid, the mother of Bishop Thorlak, son of Runolf. They (i.e. Karlsefni and Gudrid) had a son called Thorbjörn. His daughter was called Thorunn, the mother of Bishop Björn. There was a son of Snorri Karlsefnison called Thorgeir, the father of Ingveld, the mother of Bishop Brand the first. Another daughter of Snorri Karlsefnison was Steinunn, who married Einar, son of Grunda-Ketil, son of Thorvald Krok, son of Thori of Espihol. Their son was Thorstein the Unjust, who was father to Gudrun who married Jörund of Keldi: their daughter was Halla, mother of Flosi, father of Valgerda, mother of Sir Erlend the Strong, father of Sir Hauk the Lawman. Another daughter of Flosi was Thordis, mother of Lady Ingigerd the Rich. Her daughter was Lady Hallbera, abbess of Reynisness at Stad. A number of great men in Iceland besides are sprung from Karlsefni and Gudrid, who are not catalogued here. God be with us. Amen. And that is the end of this story.

Ari’s Íslendíngabók.

Aud, the woman colonist, who settled to the west of Breidafjord in Hvamm, was mother of Thorstein the Red, father of Olaf Feilan, father of Thord Gelli, father of Thorhild Rype, mother of Thord Horsehead, father of Carlsefni, father of Snorri, father of Hallfrid, mother of Thorlak, who is now bishop in Scalaholt.

PART II. DISCUSSION

I. NATURE OF THE EVIDENCE

In order to judge what historical value should be assigned to the narrative here translated, it is necessary for the reader to have a clear idea of the nature of saga literature, and some notion of the process by which such stories were transmitted from the time of their occurrence to the period, more than three centuries later, when they assumed the form which is now known to us. In view of the fact, which must be at once conceded, that we are dependent upon an interval of oral tradition before any written account of the Wineland voyages can have come into existence, we must first of all consider how the special characteristics of story-telling in Iceland affect the reliability of such tradition; next we should look for any early corroboration bearing upon the questions involved; and finally we must consider the manuscripts which form the basis of the story, and inquire into any circumstances which may make one source preferable to another.

Oral Tradition in Iceland.

None of the Wineland voyages which form the subject of our inquiry can have taken place later than—say—a.d. 1030, and the earliest would appear to date from as early as 986. Until the inconvenient runic alphabet, suited only to short inscriptions, was superseded by something better adapted to the requirements of fluent literary composition, the history of such events could be preserved only by word of mouth. This change did not occur till at any rate nearly a century had elapsed from the time of the occurrences with which we are dealing. Oral tradition, however, may, under favourable conditions, show a fidelity to the actual facts which is at first sight surprising. Mention might be made in this connexion of the Scottish Highlands, where, in spite of the Celtic imagination, the ‘shenachies’ or prose annalists attached to the more important families have been found to have transmitted historical facts which have been most exactly confirmed by subsequent investigation of documentary evidence. A little consideration will show that this is not so extraordinary as one might superficially be disposed to imagine. The distinction, recognized by our law, between libel and slander is partly at any rate based upon a consideration which should be borne in mind in this connexion. The written word remains, even though contradicted and disproved; nay, it may not infrequently survive its contradiction. The verbal narrator of contemporary events, however, is always liable to have among his audience those who are as thoroughly conversant with the facts described as he is himself. An inaccuracy may be suddenly and unpleasantly brought to book; the lie is no sooner uttered than it is denounced and exposed. We find a good illustration of the embarrassing predicament in which a story-teller might find himself placed (though the hero in this instance came out of the ordeal with credit) in the episode of the Icelandic saga-man at the court of King Harald Haardraade which is reproduced among the excerpts in Vigfusson and Powell’s Icelandic Reader (p. 141). This young man, we are told, was taken in at court for the purpose of entertaining the bodyguard with his sagas. About Christmas time he began to grow melancholy, and on the cause being investigated it was found that he had used up all his stories but one just at the time—the Yuletide festivities—when his accomplishment was most in demand. This remaining story he hesitated to recite, for it was the saga of the king’s own travels. Encouraged, however, by Harald himself, he ventured upon his embarrassing task, the hero of the exploits described being present among the audience. The story was told, and the days passed by, but the Icelander evinced no curiosity to know how his rendering had pleased the person who had first-hand knowledge of the facts. ‘I am afraid about it’ was his reply, when the king drew his attention to this omission on his part. Harald reassured him, however, saying that his version was perfectly correct, and inquired the source from which so accurate a report had been obtained. On learning that one Halldor Snorrison was the person originally responsible, the king said that he was no longer surprised at the accuracy of the tale, and offered the narrator the hospitality of his court on any future occasion when he might wish to come there.

Another instance, where the consequences were not so satisfactory to the story-teller, occurs in Njál’s Saga, where Gunnar Lambison is requested by King Sigtrygg in the Orkneys to give an account of the burning of Njál in his house, to which he had been a party. He starts telling the story in an unfair and inaccurate manner, stating among other things that Skarphedinn, Njál’s son, had wept as the danger closed round him. Upon this Kári, who has been listening at the door, dashes in with a drawn sword, and cuts off the head of the untruthful historian. Flosi, another of the burners, defends and justifies Kári’s action, and thereupon tells the story himself, and as he favours neither one side nor the other unduly in his narration we are told that his story was believed.

Now the conditions of this art of story-telling in Iceland were unusually favourable to the maintenance of an accurate tradition. In the first place, as may be seen from the instance cited, the practice was to all intents and purposes contemporaneous with the occurrence of the events described. In the second place, a point which will fall to be developed later on, it is evident that the taste of the Icelandic audience was intensely practical and unimaginative. Superstitions no doubt there were, in Iceland as throughout the whole world of this and indeed far later periods, but even their ghosts and supernatural occurrences are treated by this people, far more than by any other with whose works I am conversant, as something all in the day’s work. The Icelander did not want, like the Celt or the later Romancers, to surround his heroes with an atmosphere of picturesque mythology; his principal desire was to learn in the utmost detail exactly how everything was done, with the dates, genealogies, and circumstances relevant to the story to which he was listening.

I have mentioned the word genealogies, and this brings me to the last factor which operated in favour of the accuracy of oral tradition in Iceland. The colony was from its very nature composed of a great number of more or less connected families, equal in social status, and known to each other to consist of men of like passions with themselves. There was no king, no outstanding heroic personality, round whose unapproachable majesty the flattering tongues of courtiers could weave their myths and fictions. The saga-teller moreover was not, like the bards and shenachies of the Scottish Highlands, the appanage of a single family. He moved from place to place, whiling away the monotony of the Arctic winter with his histories, and the hero of one locality was in another an ancestor or a member of a family in no way superior to the persons who were gathered to hear the tale. Each listener was deeply versed in genealogy, a subject which was clearly regarded as of primary importance. Most great families, by dint of intermarriage, were connected with at all events some of the characters which were introduced into almost any saga, and the necessity of reciting correctly before the most critical of audiences the intricate ramifications of all the family trees occurring in the course of the narrative must have been the best possible discipline to produce a school where accuracy was placed above every other consideration.

From the circumstance, too, that the story had to satisfy the inhabitants and the visitors of a number of different settlements, with an equal social status but with frequently conflicting interests, arose the characteristic which has often been noticed by students of Icelandic literature, that both or all sides of a question are stated fairly, the author or reciter being, as Vigfusson has put it, ‘a heathen with the heathen, a wrathful man with the avenger, and a sorrowful man with the mourner, as his style reflects the varied feelings of his dramatis personae’.[64]

We have therefore the best of grounds for imagining that the exploits of those who fought, litigated, or explored in the tenth and eleventh centuries were carried with truth, impartiality, and accuracy over the brief interval which separated them from the age of written history, which dawned with Ari the Learned.

Ari the Learned.

This pioneer of Icelandic history and of the age of writing was born, as we learn from the Icelandic Annals, in the year following the Norman conquest of England (1067). His grandfather, Gelli, was a contemporary of Karlsefni, and was in fact his second cousin. (See Genealogical Table, 20.) We are expressly told by Ari that his uncle, Thorkel Gellison, supplied him with information relating to Eric the Red, which he had obtained from direct speech with one of the latter’s companions. The events with which we are concerned thus fall within a period bridged by one human memory from the time of occurrence to the period when they could be recorded in writing, and when written history, as superseding oral tradition, may be said to begin.

It is moreover worthy of note in passing that the most important explorer with whom these sagas deal, Thorfin Karlsefni, was of the same stock as Ari, and must almost necessarily have been personally known to one of his informants, his uncle Thorkel.

It should also be remarked that one of the persons for whom Ari expressly tells us that he composed his Íslendíngabók, and to whom he showed it, was Bishop Thorlak, the grandson of that Snorri who, as we are told in the saga, was born to Karlsefni in Wineland.

To the truthful and conscientious work of Ari the Learned a well-known introductory passage in the history of the kings of Norway known as Heimskringla bears eloquent witness. The author of this book was greatly indebted to the researches of Ari; in fact, though the latter’s original work on the subject of the Norse kings no longer exists in its intact and primitive form, we know that such a book was among his literary achievements, and was in all probability followed closely by subsequent compilers of stories relating to the earlier history of Norway. Unfortunately, however, greatly as later writers were indebted to Ari, of his original work only one book remains, and this in a highly condensed and summarized form. This is the Íslendíngabók, or history of the Icelanders. We know from the author’s own statement that this book was originally written in a different and probably more extended form, of which no copies now remain, but the little book now extant contains, besides a genealogy of Karlsefni, one passage valuable to us in dealing with the present subject, from the early corroboration which it affords of the essential outlines of our story. This passage, which will also be found in the Appendix of Supplementary Passages, p. 74, may be rendered as follows:

‘The country which is called Greenland was discovered and colonized from Iceland. It was a man called Eric the Red from Breidafjord who went out thither from this country, and he took land in the place which was afterwards called Ericsfjord: he named the country and called it Greenland, saying that the fact that the country had a good name would attract men to journey thither. They found there, both in the east and the west of the country, dwellings of men, and fragments of canoes, and stone implements of a kind from which one could tell that a race had come (farit) there of the kind that inhabited (bygt) Wineland, and whom the Greenlanders call Skrælings. Now the date when the settlement of that country was started was from fourteen to fifteen winters before Christianity came here to Iceland, according to an account given to Thorkel Gellison in Greenland by one who himself accompanied Eric the Red out.’

This casual reference would appear to afford the strongest confirmation both of the known and recognized existence of Wineland, and, in particular, of the episodes described in the sagas relating to the savages or ‘skrælings’.

It furnishes besides, in the present writer’s opinion, proof positive that a land inhabited by savages had been visited by the Norsemen at a time when no such people had actually been met with in Greenland itself. The Eskimo of Greenland, it will be observed, had, so far as Ari’s information went, come and gone before the Norse occupation (farit), and their existence was only inferred from the traces above described, while the natives of Wineland had at the same date ‘a local habitation (bygt) and a name’. ‘Skrælings’ was not therefore a title transferred from known inhabitants of Greenland to savages figuring in tales of Wineland; the reverse was the case.

This point will be developed later, and certain objections which have been raised to this interpretation of the passage will be fully dealt with, but it will at once be seen that it is of considerable importance in its bearing upon the accuracy of the saga and the fact of the Norse discovery.

The Landnámabók.

Another work of high authority, in which it is certain that the conscientious hand of Ari played a large part, is the Landnámabók or history of the settlement of Iceland. Hauk Erlendson, in his edition of this classic, expressly acknowledges the authorship of the master, saying that it is ‘according to that which first priest Ari the Learned, Thorgil’s son, has written, and Kolskegg the Wise’. Kolskegg was a contemporary of Ari’s, and Vigfusson[65] thinks that his share in the collaboration was confined to supplying the genealogies of the Eastern district. Judging from its uniformity of style, this great authority[66] has no hesitation in ascribing the sole authorship of the Landnámabók to Ari and Kolskegg. The authoritative character of this work has a direct bearing upon our subject, for it is evident that the writers of both versions of the story drew largely from its pages, indeed both versions contain a great deal of absolutely literal quotation.

As regards Wineland itself, however, the Landnámabók has but little to say. It was in fact foreign to the purpose of a book whose whole scope was confined to Iceland, and we ought not therefore to expect more than we actually find. The only reliable mention of the place is in the passage relating to Ari Marsson, who is there said to have been cast upon Hvítramannaland, ‘which some call Ireland the Great, it lies westward in the sea near Wineland the Good’. The importance attaching to this passage is that Wineland is casually mentioned as a well-known locality from which the position of Hvítramannaland could be approximately fixed, without the necessity of further explanation. Another passage, relating to ‘Karlsefni who found Wineland the Good’, is of less value, as it is in all probability an interpolation by Hauk, which consequently affords no independent corroboration of the discovery.

Adam of Bremen.

It has therefore been established so far that at the time when writing superseded oral tradition the fact of the discovery of a ‘Wineland’ by the Norsemen was perfectly well known, that it lay to the west (vide Landnámabók), and contained savages. The name moreover affords some corroboration in itself of the details given in the sagas with reference to the discovery of grapes there. A further confirmation of the facts recorded as to the principal products of the country must now be dealt with. This dates from an even earlier period, and comes from an independent source, the Descriptio of the ‘islands’ or countries of the North which was written by Adam of Bremen. This worthy became director of the cathedral school in Bremen in or about the year of Ari’s birth (1067), and derived, as he tells us, the information upon which his description is based from Svein Estridson, King of the Danes, who died in 1076.

Knowledge obtained from such a source brings us practically to the lifetime of Karlsefni’s contemporaries, and well within that of many who might remember him or his associates. In the geographical work referred to, Adam inserts the following reference to Wineland:

‘He (King Svein) told me of yet another island besides, discovered by many in that Ocean, which is called ‘Wineland’, from the fact that there vines grow naturally, producing the best wine. Moreover that corn abounds there without sowing we have ascertained, not from fabulous conjecture, but from the reliable (certa) report of the Danes.’

Prima facie, therefore, we have here the most controversial part of the whole story—the existence of the wild corn and vines—substantiated by an authority based on a Scandinavian source, almost within the lifetime of the explorers themselves. In view of a contention which will be dealt with more fully later, that the accounts of vines and wild corn occurring in the sagas are derived from references to the Fortunate Islands in Isidore Hispalensis and classical works, it may be important to note here the emphasis laid by the writer on the source of his information.

Adam of Bremen, a learned continental magister, must have been already familiar with the numerous legends relating to these Fortunate Islands, references to which are frequent in many classical authorities, and he appears to be anticipating the criticism which has in fact been made, when he draws, as he does, a careful distinction between fabulosa opinio and certa relatio Danorum. He seems in fact to be saying,—‘Of course you think that this is another story based on classical legends which are familiar to you, but it is nothing of the sort: when I was in Denmark I had the opportunity of questioning the Danes whose information I have recorded, and I find it impossible to conclude that this is merely a case of the Insulae Fortunatae at second hand.’

Date of the Existing Manuscripts.

We may now pass on to consider the sources from which the present translation is drawn. The existing manuscripts, it will be found, are none of them earlier than the fourteenth century, but it may be well to point out that this fact is not so damaging to their credit as might be supposed.

The day of oral tradition was long over, the day of documentary history had been long established, and the compilers of those versions which we now possess must have worked in the main not from oral tradition, but from earlier written sagas which had then attained to a large extent the form in which we have them. A well-known passage in the Sturlunga Saga is not without a bearing on this point. ‘Nearly all stories.’ it says, ‘which had been made in Iceland before Bishop Brand Sæmundson died (a.d. 1201) had been committed to writing; but stories of things which have taken place since were hardly committed to writing at all before the skald Sturla Thordson dictated the Iceland Sagas.’ Now while we may admit, with Vigfusson, that this passage has reference primarily to the three sagas which have at this point been incorporated in Sturlunga, it is clear that ‘nearly all stories’ cannot be a statement confined to three, and must have a general reference to the condition of all the stories known at that date. It follows that any events which took place before 1201 had in all probability assumed a more or less fixed written form before Sturla (born c. 1217) started to write down the later occurrences.

The contributions of later scribes would appear to have been confined for the most part to bringing the genealogies down to their own day; the fashion of romanticizing the earlier material to any great extent did not become general till a later date than those which we have to consider.

That Eric’s Saga had assumed a written form before the Flatey Book version was compiled is evident from the reference to it in the opening chapter of that story: ‘Thence arose the quarrels and fights between Eric and Thorgest which are related in Eric’s Saga.’ How far the saga of Eric known to the compilers of the Flatey Book corresponded with any work which now bears the same name is a question which cannot be adequately discussed till we have considered further the nature and authenticity of the versions from which the translation has been derived.[67]

Hauk’s Book and the Saga of Eric the Red.

Our knowledge of the Wineland voyages is obtained, as the careful reader of the translation will discover, from two apparently independent sources, which may for convenience be described as Hauk’s version and that of the Flatey Book. The story as known to Hauk is found in two manuscripts: one contained in Hauk’s Book and partly written by his own hand; the other, in an early fifteenth-century hand, is No. 557 4to in the collection of Arne Magnusson, and is most conveniently designated—according to its actual title—as the Saga of Eric the Red.

This last-named manuscript, while it was undoubtedly written long after Hauk’s Book, probably embodies the earlier and better text of this version. It is certainly not a free rendering of the story, but a literal transcript of some earlier manuscript, for it contains a number of typical copyist’s errors. There are, for example, words repeated twice in succession, and passages which as they stand are meaningless, and require some simple emendation. It is equally certain that the text followed was not that of Hauk, for the language differs slightly throughout, and there are sentences in each version neither occurring in the other nor arising from it by necessary implication. The theory that the Saga of Eric the Red embodies an earlier text than that of Hauk is deduced by experts from the greater simplicity of the language in the former version. To the lay mind the most convincing proof is to be derived from the genealogy at the end of the saga. As has already been stated, it was the practice of transcribers to bring such pedigrees down to their own day. Hauk follows this practice, tracing the line of Karlsefni down to himself. The Saga of Eric stops short at Bishop Brand the first, several generations earlier. Hauk, according to his account, was the great-great-great-grandson of Bishop Brand’s second cousin. (See Genealogical Table, p. 20.) The fact, however, that Bishop Brand is described as ‘the first’ shows conclusively that the text copied in Eric’s Saga was not completed till the ordination of the second bishop of that name, which took place in 1263.

Of course, as far as this goes, it is not inconsistent with the writers of these two versions having worked from the same manuscript, which Hauk altered and edited, while the other scribe contented himself with a literal copy. While, however, the sense of Hauk’s version follows approximately that of the rival manuscript, the language is rarely identical for many words together. Had both been working from the same manuscript, this is not what one would expect to find: it is so much simpler to transcribe a passage verbatim, when the meaning which it is intended to convey is as adequately given by such a method. And Hauk’s text occasionally gives us information which cannot be explained as a mere intelligent amplification of the other.

We are consequently justified in all probability in imagining that the common origin of the two versions must be assigned to a period considerably earlier than either. Finnur Jónsson, an excellent critic of Icelandic styles, considers that we may give the common archetype as early a date as 1200. As regards the date of the extant manuscripts, to which, for reasons already given, too much importance should not be attached, it is sufficient to state that Hauk died in 1334, and as his own hand concludes the saga it must have been written some time before that date. The clue given by the mention of Bishop Brand ‘the first’, noticed above, is common to both manuscripts, and fixes the period before which neither manuscript was completed at 1263. In the case of Hauk’s Book these limits are further narrowed by the mention of Hallbera with her title as Abbess of Reynisness. We know that this lady attained this position in 1299, so that Hauk’s Book cannot have been completed before this date.

Hauk’s Personal Authority.

Mr. W. H. Babcock, in his clear and valuable treatise on the subject,[68] lays considerable stress on the fact that Hauk was a descendant of Karlsefni, as enhancing the authority of this version of the narrative. To some extent this is a good point, but it may be doubted whether Hauk’s knowledge of his ancestors was sufficient to check the written records accessible in his day. He follows the demonstrable error of Landnámabók in making Thorbjörn Vifilson the son of Aud’s freedman, which a close examination of the chronological data shows to be an altogether untenable theory. (See Genealogical Table, p. 20.) He was separated from Karlsefni by no fewer than eight generations, and any reader who takes the trouble to consider how much he knows of the achievements of so distant an ancestor will no doubt form the conclusion that Hauk was not in a position to throw much additional light on the subject, though it was naturally of peculiar interest to him. All we can say is that he regarded the saga as historical and not romantic, and his wide experience of Icelandic literature, quite apart from his family connexions, made him a good judge. That he had no special private sources of information is clear from the fact that he transcribed the saga practically as it stood. It cannot be sustained that he discarded the Flatey version, or preferred the alternative; it seems much more likely that the editors of the Flatey Book tapped sources to which he never had access. Hauk, had he deliberately compared the two authorities, would for example inevitably have selected the Flatey version of the stranded-whale episode, as this tallies much better than his own text with the older verses incorporated. (Cf. next chapter, p. 132.) Hauk, in fact, merely copied, with more or less intelligence, the only version of the story which he knew, and his manuscript, therefore, stands on exactly the same footing as the Saga of Eric the Red: coming from a common archetype they of course afford no independent corroboration of one another.

Independence of the Flatey Version.

That such corroboration is, however, afforded by the version contained in the Flatey Book is, I think, clear to demonstration. But for the attitude of some modern writers on the subject, the independence of this account might be said to be beyond dispute, whatever its relative value as an authority might be. Some commentators have, however, attempted to establish that the Flatey Book is but an embroidery based on the rival text. Thus Mr. Juul Dieserud, in the Bulletin of the American Geographical Society (1901), states boldly that the Flatey Book ‘borrowed incidents and descriptions from the story of Thorfin’. He adds: ‘This may seem to be a hazardous conjecture, but ... the only way out of it is to regard the saga of Thorfin as the result of a similar process.’

The alternative, however, with which Mr. Dieserud here considers himself to be faced, is by no means the only one. The depositions of two witnesses to a matter of fact may show many points of agreement as well as discrepancies without any collusion or borrowing whatsoever. So, too, different authors may treat of a question of history or tradition without having consulted each other’s works. Again, if I and a friend go through some experience together—suppose, for instance, that we serve in the same unit during the war—the accounts which we transmit to our respective descendants may be quite independent of one another. A charge of plagiarism, under such conditions, needs to be established by definite and cogent evidence.

Now what does Mr. Dieserud put forward as proof or support of his contention? He says, for example, ‘an incident related of the stalwart Freydis and the short mention of some quarrels caused by the women during the last winter in Straumsfjord sets somebody’s imagination working till we get a gruesome tale of her separate expedition to Wineland in company with the brothers Helgi and Finnbogi’. The quarrels over (not otherwise caused by) the women in the Saga of Eric the Red are of a purely sexual character. The bachelors, we are told, coveted the wives of the married men. This situation, though hardly unique, might well provide an imaginative mind with a plot like that of a modern problem novel. But where is anything of the kind to be traced in the Flatey Book story of Freydis? There is no quarrel about women; in fact, feminine charm was hardly Freydis’s strong point. There is a purely mercenary dispute about the ownership of a boat, in which a person who is incidentally a woman plays the principal part. In short, there is no sort of connexion between the two plots; it might as well be said that the story of Jezebel and Naboth was a plagiarism from that of David and Bathsheba.

In the same way, the alleged development of Bjarni Herjulfson from Bjarni Grimolfson, which is also asserted by Joseph Fischer,[69] rests upon no more solid foundation than the coincidence of a name by no means uncommon in Icelandic literature. Storm, more correctly, recognizes the Bjarni of the Flatey Book as ‘en ellers ganske ubekjendt person’ (a person otherwise quite unknown), and Neckel’s Erste Entdeckung Amerikas makes use of an identical expression. Would anyone, desiring to make up a good story about Bjarni Grimolfson, neglect the dramatic episode of his death in the worm-eaten ship, as given in the saga of Eric? Why, as Neckel says, not let him land and find the vines and corn, if the object was to give him a credit not his due? Apart from their first names, Bjarni Grimolfson and Bjarni Herjulfson have nothing whatever in common. When Fischer says, ‘Only in this way (i.e. by inventing the Flatey Book story) could the priest (John Thordson, one of the scribes of the Flatey Book) ascribe the honour of the discovery of Wineland to his hero Bjarni, who was really only one of the band who accompanied Karlsefni on his later expedition’, one is disposed to ask, Who treats Bjarni as a hero? He gets no credit for the discovery which accident threw in his way; Leif is here, as elsewhere, treated as the discoverer of Wineland: nay, we are told that Bjarni was severely criticized for lack of enterprise in not pursuing his investigations further. Moreover, if Bjarni Grimolfson was John Thordson’s hero, why change his surname altogether?

The third parallel suggested by Mr. Dieserud is between Tyrker in the Flatey Book and Hake and Hekja in Eric’s Saga. Hake and Hekja, one would think, make a more picturesque appeal to an imaginative writer than Tyrker. They are at least as good material for a story. But they are Scots or Celts while Tyrker is a German, they are two while he is one; in fact, they show few points of resemblance. A better case could be made out for a comparison between Tyrker and Thorhall the Hunter, though even this would be pretty remote. These are the three instances most prominently put forward to substantiate a charge of plagiarism.

When we look for points in one version which must inevitably have been included in the other if the two accounts were interdependent, we are only struck by the dissimilarity. The wild corn, so prominent in Eric’s Saga and in the popular accounts which reached Adam of Bremen, is not mentioned anywhere in the Flatey Book. The stranded whale, evidently a fact, as shown by Thorhall’s verses, is referred to, but the whole point of the story, as a story, is destroyed by too literal adherence to what appears to be the simple truth.

On the other hand, numerous statements of a circumstantial nature are made in the Flatey version which find no place in the rival account. The important ‘eyktarstad’ observation (see Chapter V) is a good instance of this. The Flatey Book gives the south-westerly course which the necessities of the case, as known to us, demand, but we look in vain for such a course in Eric’s Saga or Hauk’s Book, which follow the current ideas of Icelandic geographers in reporting a uniform progress to the south. Is it suggested that the greater accuracy of the Flatey Book in this particular is a freak of a vivid but uninstructed imagination? The savages, sleeping under their boats, as Jacques Cartier found them centuries later, are also mentioned in the Flatey Book alone. It is true that the authors of this version, coming to the conclusion that all the explorers made the same landfall, have felt at liberty to draw the description of Leif’s camp from what appears to be a report of Karlsefni’s Hóp, but, assuming the latter place to have been actually discovered by Karlsefni, there is no evidence in this that another saga was consulted at all. In short, I can find no evidence whatever that the compilers of the Flatey Book version had any knowledge of the rival account known to us. It is true that Finnur Jónsson[70] considers that the reference to ‘Eric’s saga’ in the introductory matter quoted from Landnáma is to the document known to us by that name; but, with all respect to the views of so fine an Icelandic scholar, such a theory seems to me untenable. In the first place, in the passage in question the author must be alluding to a story so well known to his audience that he can refer them to it without hesitation. A fortiori a story known to himself. Yet no one who had more than the haziest recollection of our Eric’s Saga could possibly make the wide departures from it which are characteristic of the Flatey version. Secondly, the reference to the ‘quarrels and fights’ between Eric and Thorgest suggests a detailed account of the whole dispute. Yet the matter omitted in the Flatey Book from that supplied by Landnáma, which is the source quoted by all our authorities at this stage, amounts to no more than a bare mention of the battle which brought about Eric’s banishment, and that on his return to Iceland which was the prelude to reconciliation. The omissions are in fact hardly longer than the explanation which the author inserts. The object of the reference being clearly to effect a saving of time or space, one must suppose that the allusion is to some fuller account. But even if the reference were to our Eric’s Saga, it would not disprove the independence of the Flatey version as a whole, since at this point the compiler has not reached the stage where he incorporates new matter, but is copying practically verbatim an abridgement from Landnáma which is to be found in other texts of the Saga of Olaf Tryggvason. The reference to ‘Eric’s saga’ is part of a quotation, rather than an original observation. In fact, as Neckel puts it, ‘the (Flatey Book) narrative makes pretty strong departures from the Saga of Eric the Red. It knows on the one hand more, on the other less; above all, the same occurrences appear in quite different order and connexion’ ... ‘Between both accounts runs the remarkable relationship that while clearly harmonious in the main features they are widely separated from one another in details. The use of the older narrative by the younger is accordingly excluded.’

The motive apparently suggested by Mr. Dieserud and those who agree with him for the tone adopted in the Flatey Book is the glorification of the family of Eric the Red. The introduction of a prior discoverer to Leif does not seem likely to conduce to such a result, and one feels that a member of Eric’s family would hardly regard the story of Freydis with pride or pleasure. But let that pass. Those who adopt this position seem to be faced with a dilemma. No one outside Greenland had any interest in attempting such a task, while if—as I myself believe (see next chapter, p. 139)—this version comes in the main from a Greenland source, it is far more likely that it represents an independent tradition than that compilers in so inaccessible a country had access to the version current in Iceland. For these reasons we need have no hesitation in accepting the independence of the Flatey version, and in concluding with Vigfusson that ‘the correspondence of these distinct versions throws great light on the vitality and faithfulness of tradition, and is a strong confirmation of the credibility in main points of a saga which is especially important for historic reasons’.[71]

Date of the Flatey Book.

The date and circumstances of composition of the Flatey Book are known to us from the invaluable researches of Vigfusson, who transcribed the entire manuscript for publication. From this source we learn that it was compiled for one John Haakonson, who was born in 1350; the date of its commencement can therefore hardly have been earlier than some twenty years later (c. 1370). As originally planned it commenced with the mythical tale of Eric the Far-travelled, a fact which is plain from the words of the text, ‘He that wrote this book set this story first’. It continues in the same hand to set down a long saga of Olaf Tryggvason, King of Norway, followed by the saga of King Olaf the Holy. At this point the first scribe, John Thordson, lays down his pen, and the book is carried on by one Magnus, terminating with some Annals, which it was intended to keep up to date by additions from time to time. When therefore Magnus found himself in possession of some additional matter, which it was thought desirable to incorporate in the volume, he added a few leaves at the beginning of the work, leaving the blank pages at the end for the continuation of the Annals. Towards the end of the newly incorporated matter comes the statement that it was written in the year 1387. Magnus then added a title-page with a list of the contents, and continued to add to the Annals from time to time till 1394. The story of the Wineland voyages given in the Flatey Book consists of two ‘thættir’ or episodes, interpolated after the manner of the time in the saga of Olaf Tryggvason, which is the second piece of literature included in the original volume. It follows therefore that, so far as we are concerned, the manuscript dates from some time after 1370, when the owner came to man’s estate, and before 1387. Considering the time which must have been occupied in writing a book of such gigantic proportions, we may fairly ascribe the Wineland parts of the book to a date considerably earlier than the year last mentioned.

The manuscript at present extant is therefore of a later date than that of Hauk’s Book. In admitting this we should, I think, for the reasons given earlier, be chary of attaching too much importance to the fact. Evidence is not wanting that the sources followed compare favourably in age with the rival version. Two such proofs are mentioned by Reeves, though only one of these seems to me of real importance. This is the fact that, unlike the rival version, the Flatey Book refers to Bishop Brand without the distinguishing title ‘the first’, which would in all probability have been added by anyone composing the archetype used by John Thordson at a date subsequent to the second Bishop’s ordination. The other point mentioned by Reeves is the reference to Eric’s landfall in Greenland by its original name of Midjökul, as well as by the later designation of Bláserk, which latter is given alone in Hauk’s version. A reference to the Landnámabók, however, shows that both names are there preserved, and as the part of both versions where the name occurs is obviously founded on Landnáma, the omission of a word of the matter copied by Hauk appears to me devoid of significance.

Turning to the contents of the rival productions of Hauk and the Flatey Book, though the two stories are obviously the same, we are at once confronted by certain striking dissimilarities. Bjarni Herjulfson and his adventure are recorded in the Flatey Book, and nowhere else in literature. Leif’s voyage is represented by the same version alone as being deliberately undertaken as a result of Bjarni’s discoveries; elsewhere it is accidental, an episode of a different voyage. A separate voyage of Thorvald Ericson, terminating in his death, is detailed in the same account, whereas in the Saga of Eric the Red no such person is mentioned at all till the episode of his death, and in Hauk’s Book and the companion manuscript he is represented as sailing and meeting his death under the auspices of Karlsefni’s expedition. Finally, after Karlsefni’s return, we have in the Flatey Book alone the story of Freydis’s second visit to the newly discovered country. With these discrepancies, and the attitude of modern criticism towards them, it will be necessary to deal in a separate chapter.

II. THE DISCREPANCIES OF THE FLATEY BOOK

The earlier writers on the subject of the Wineland voyages based their theories very largely on the Flatey version, and indeed accepted its authority as in every way preferable to the alternative rendering of the story. Laing, for example, in his preface to the Heimskringla, laments the fact that any other document besides the Flatey Book should come into the discussion at all: and Hauk’s version is dismissed by a writer in the Cornhill Magazine for 1872 (vol. xxvi) as ‘a later manuscript ... full of the most marvellous impossibilities’. In a slashing and sceptical paper on the subject in vol. VII of the Proceedings of the Royal Geographical Society, by R. G. Haliburton, the same view is emphasized. This writer had but little faith in any of the stories, but he treated the Flatey account as at all events preferable to that of the Saga of Eric the Red.

Perhaps none of the writers cited above can be considered as of very high authority, but their attitude is typical of the older school of thought, and the Flatey Book has as great a critic as Vigfusson on its side. They are quoted to show how widely the opinions of students can vary. For since Gustav Storm in 1887 published his Studier over Vinlandsreiserne[72], his views, which have found very general acceptance and still hold the field, have completely reversed the relative status of the different versions. To-day it is the Flatey Book which is criticized, and on all points where it joins issue with the rival version the evidence of the latter is preferred. With great deference to those whose learning has contributed to such a result, it seems to me that such criticism has gone a great deal too far. Let us endeavour impartially to consider the main points wherein there is variance, and thus form our own conclusion as to which story is the more correct.[73]

Bjarni Herjulfson.

Herjulf, Bjarni’s father, was undoubtedly a real person, whose name and pedigree occur in Landnáma, and it appears to be historically established that he was one of Eric’s companions when Greenland was colonized in a.d. 985 or 986. A well-known headland in Greenland was named after him, and in fact no one hitherto has ventured to question Herjulf’s existence, or his emigration to Greenland.

We start then from the certain fact that Herjulf, Bjarni’s father, has sailed to Greenland about the summer of 986. If he had a sailor son, absent in Norway on a trading voyage, that son on his return to Iceland would almost certainly endeavour to rejoin his parent in the new colony. All the best available pilots are gone, neither Bjarni nor his crew have any clear knowledge of the seas they will have to traverse, and it is with a knowledge of their risk, clearly stated, that they start sailing west in the direction of Greenland, separated from them by a distance imperfectly known, and also, if there is the slightest deviation to the south of Cape Farewell, in the direction of America. To America we are accordingly informed that they came, driven thither by suitable winds and weather. From America, without landing, without any information to impart as to these strange countries, they returned to Greenland, and Iceland saw no more of Bjarni thenceforward. As fiction, it is a pointless and barren narrative, whatever may be its historical interest to persons of a post-Columbian age. It was evidently disappointing to those who heard and to those who subsequently wrote the story. So far from being treated as a hero, as Professor Fischer would have us believe, we are told that Bjarni received nothing but blame for his lack of enterprise and curiosity on the occasion which chance and unsuccessful navigation had thrown in his way. These were not circumstances favourable to the perpetuation of a story devoid of incident in itself and redounding in no way to the credit of the chief actor in it. It would not be surprising to find that even in Greenland Bjarni’s adventure was not long remembered. The disappearance of the tale from Iceland is a fortiori immensely more probable. The interest of narrator and audience alike were in that country exceptionally domestic. It is the rarest possible exception to hear in Icelandic sagas of the exploits of anyone who had permanently left the country, and whose life never again threw him in contact with Icelanders. Bjarni, from the time he set sail from Eyrarbakki, was, short of a miracle, ‘out of the story’, as the Icelandic narrators would have put it. That the popular account of the voyages of Karlsefni and his predecessors should contain no mention of Bjarni is in accordance with every probability. The alternative appears to me to violate everything that experience teaches us of the development of tradition here and elsewhere. A person, possibly it is said fictitious, at best wholly devoid of interest for Icelandic audiences, is credited with an extremely featureless voyage, from which he derives no sort of kudos, the effect of which is—if anything—to some extent to impair the glory of the Icelander Karlsefni. Such inaccuracy as characterizes tradition has, it may be said with the utmost confidence, the effect of merging the exploits of the less well known with those of the more popular hero: the creation of a fictitious hero in addition to the real one is, I submit, the reverse of the normal process.

Thus, the legends which grew up about Charlemagne endowed that hero with the achievements of earlier Frankish kings and chieftains, and in particular absorbed and confused with Charlemagne his ancestor, Charles Martel. The national traditions of centuries were annexed and grouped round Charlemagne and his circle. On a smaller scale, much the same sort of process can occasionally be traced in saga literature. For instance, the earlier versions of the Landnámabók mention a certain Helgi Thorbrandson, who sailed with Eric to Greenland, and was accordingly less known in Iceland than his brothers, who figure largely in the Eyrbyggja Saga. This saga, therefore, ignores Helgi, and does not mention him among the sons of Thorbrand of Alptafjord. Similarly later editions of Landnáma substitute for Helgi’s name that of his brother Snorri, who went out later to Greenland, and was better known in Iceland. The less-known figure disappears and his history becomes absorbed in that of the better-known character. Such is the normal and natural working of tradition.

Prof. Gustav Storm, in his Studier over Vinlandsreiserne, makes a great point of the fact that though Bjarni’s voyage is represented as taking place about a.d. 986 nothing was done in the nature of further exploration for a period of about sixteen years. I fail to see the force of this argument. It was not till about a century had elapsed from the time when Gunnbjörn, son of Ulf Kráka, sighted an unknown coast to the west of Iceland, that Eric the Red, having made his adopted country too hot to hold him, followed in his track to Greenland. The battered and storm-tossed remnant who successfully accomplished the emigration to Eric’s new colony had little motive, in Bjarni’s bald description of unattractive coasts sighted from shipboard, to induce them to tempt Providence again. Leif, Eric’s son and the explorer of the future, was born in Iceland after the death of his grandfather, and was in all probability still a child. He is the only son of Eric mentioned in Landnámabók, which is concerned with the Icelandic pedigrees only.

On coming of age, and accomplishing the remarkable voyage from Greenland to Norway, having next carried out the difficult task of converting his countrymen to Christianity, it was time for him to look about for fresh worlds to conquer. The old story was recalled, the ship was manned, and the first real discovery and exploration of the new countries was effected, an exploit for which, in the Flatey Book as elsewhere, Leif receives the entire credit, just as his father, and not Gunnbjörn, is everywhere described as the ‘discoverer’ of Greenland.

Leif’s Voyage.

Next it is said that whereas, in the Flatey version, Leif’s discovery is represented as the result of an expedition deliberately equipped to investigate Bjarni’s reports, it is uniformly described in every other account as an accidental episode of his return voyage from the court of Olaf Tryggvason in Norway. Here again it must be remembered that Leif was by this time a Greenlander, as to the exact details of whose exploits Iceland was likely to be imperfectly informed and but little interested. The main facts of his career might be known: that he was a son of Eric the Red, that he sailed to Norway and introduced Christianity to Greenland, that he rescued a crew of shipwrecked persons—more especially if, as related in the Flatey Book, one of these was the Icelandic heroine Gudrid—that he discovered somehow and at some time Wineland the Good, and thereby gave rise to Karlsefni’s subsequent expedition. More exact knowledge was not necessary as a prelude to the story of the adventures of the Icelandic hero Karlsefni; in fact, in so far as there is likely to have been any conscious interference with the truth, it may be observed that the less Leif’s voyage was dwelt on the greater would be the credit attaching to the later explorer, in whom alone Icelanders were likely to be generally interested. Such a state of things was eminently calculated to produce the fusion by tradition of two voyages into one, which was likely to be more generally known for two obvious reasons. In the first place, Leif’s voyage to Norway and his return with Olaf Tryggvason’s mission to Greenland was an important fact in the history of that proselytizing king. In the second, it was of interest to the priests who became the historians both of Iceland and Norway. As I have urged already, merger rather than expansion is the normal trend of tradition. The ‘man in the street’ at the present day might well be acquainted, for example, with an incident in the career of Captain Cook, without being able accurately to assign it to the correct voyage of the navigator, or indeed without being certain as to the exact number of the voyages for which he was distinguished. It is far more likely, in my opinion, that such a merger took place in Leif’s story as usually summarized in Iceland than that an imaginary and distinct voyage should have been invented and described with much circumstance and detail.

But, it is said, the Flatey Book’s account stands alone, while that of Hauk, short as it is, is corroborated elsewhere, by a body of independent evidence. On examination, however, this body of evidence shrinks to the dimensions of a single passage, repeated in one context with unimportant verbal variations in a number of different manuscripts.

The oldest extant version of this passage, that occurring in the Friis codex of the Book of the Kings of Norway, will be found included in the Appendix to our translation (p. 74). Another example, from the great Olaf Tryggvason Saga, may be usefully given here, for purposes of comparison:

‘That same spring when Olaf the King sent Gizur and Hjalti to Iceland, as has already been written, he also sent Leif Ericson to Greenland, to preach Christianity there. The King got him a priest and other holy men, to baptize the people there and teach them the right faith. Leif went that summer to Greenland. He took at sea a ship’s crew, who were then in misfortune, and lay on a completely broken wreck of a ship, and on that voyage he found Wineland the Good, and came at the end of that summer to Greenland, and went home to Brattahlid to his father Eric. Men called him afterwards Leif the Lucky. But Eric his father said that the account was balanced, since Leif had preserved and given life to the men of the ship’s crew, and had brought the hypocrite to Greenland, so he called the priest.’

A similar passage in the Heimskringla may also be compared.

Besides these we have also a shorter passage in the Kristni Saga, which has been preserved for us in Hauk’s Book. This last, translated in the same baldly literal manner, may also be found in the Appendix of Supplementary Passages, p. 75.

Now the first thing noticeable about all these passages is that they occur in exactly the same context, the history of King Olaf Tryggvason’s missionary enterprises. We have further the authority of Vigfusson for saying that both the Kristni Saga and the Book of Kings, though in their present shape they have passed through the hands of various editors, were in their original form products of the pen of Ari the Learned. We have therefore in all these cases one author, one context, and substantially one phraseology.

And, setting aside for the moment the exact form of words used, we may fairly say that the essential meaning of these various passages is as follows:—Olaf Tryggvason also brought about the conversion of Greenland. For this purpose he found an excellent agent in Leif, the son of the founder of that colony, a man who attained distinction in many ways, for he not only introduced the faith into those benighted regions but he also earned the title of ‘Lucky’ by the discovery of Wineland, and a brave and sensational rescue of a crew of shipwrecked men. It will be observed that Leif’s career is only relevant in this context in so far as it comes in contact with that of Olaf Tryggvason, with whom the writer is principally concerned, and all that it was necessary for him to know, and possibly all that he did know, was the fact that Leif was Olaf’s missionary and that he had various other claims to distinction. The when or the how of these various adventures of Leif were altogether beside the point, and did not need to be closely investigated. In this way, without any blame attaching to the original chronicler, even if he was responsible for the present order of the words, a false idea of the circumstances of Leif’s discovery may easily have been started in Iceland.

Between the two ‘thættir’ or episodes which make up our story as incorporated in the Flatey Book Saga of Olaf Tryggvason, the passage already quoted from other texts appears, slightly edited into conformity with the Wineland story of the book by the omission of any reference to that country (see Appendix of Supplementary Passages, p. 75). The editing is incomplete, for the rescue of the crew remains, to be repeated under different circumstances later on; but inasmuch as the whole passage is obviously derived from the same source as the others which have been mentioned, no point can legitimately be made of this other than that the scribes of the Flatey Book did not carry the interference with their sources very far, which on the whole only goes to indicate that the Wineland story as they copied it suffered no alteration in the process, a fact in favour of this version rather than otherwise.

It also shows that the thættir were drawn from an independent source.

We may sum up the argument on this branch of the case as follows:

1. Leif was a person who came within the range of Icelandic interest not because of his exploits in themselves, which rather concerned Greenland, but because they had a bearing on the history of an Icelandic hero, Karlsefni, and of a Norse king, Olaf Tryggvason.

2. For this purpose the precise circumstances and date of his Wineland voyage were quite irrelevant.

3. The accounts therefore which appear of this voyage, both in Hauk’s account of Wineland and in the sagas of Olaf Tryggvason, are, as we should expect, extremely short and superficial.

4. The account of Leif given in the Flatey Book, on the other hand, is extremely circumstantial and detailed and appears to have been written from a more intimate knowledge of the facts.

5. The normal course of tradition is rather to blend many voyages into one than to expand one voyage, in one and the same story, into many.

One other point may be mentioned.

Part at all events of the Flatey Book version is accepted by the majority of those who have studied the subject, especially the observation recorded of the length of the shortest day, which is indeed one of the most circumstantial points to be found in any of these stories. Now assuming this observation to be correctly attributed to Leif, and it is recorded of no one else, then it is plain that Leif must have wintered in the new country, and at the most southerly point in it to which he penetrated. The alternative accounts are one and all wholly inconsistent with any such idea. According to these, Wineland was discovered by Leif while endeavouring to return from Norway to Greenland in the summer of the year 1000. In the first place, at least two of the texts giving this version of the story state distinctly, and the others imply, that he arrived in Greenland in the year in which he set sail. (Cf. Fríssbók: ‘He came in the autumn to Greenland’, and the passage occurring in the body of the Flatey Book’s Saga of Olaf Tryggvason: ‘He came at the end of that summer to Greenland.’)

But apart from these statements we may ask ourselves,—is it likely that Leif would have passed the winter in Wineland, unless he came there on a definite voyage of exploration? On the hypothesis of accident he had come, and knew he had come, a tremendous distance out of his way by the time he made land on the coast of America. Would he have had either the supplies or the inclination to stay the winter in the newly discovered land? Supposing that—as the Flatey Book tells us—he arrived first at Helluland, why should he have sailed south across open sea from that point if his destination was Greenland? If he followed the coast he would arrive in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and would come across nothing resembling the Wineland of the story.[74] And it is incredible that he should have put directly to sea in the direction opposite to his objective and happened by chance upon the two more southerly ‘lands’. Again, if we suppose him to have gone through the experience recorded of Bjarni, is it not still more unlikely that he would have elected to pass the whole autumn and winter in the very first place at which he touched, without provisions and so very far from home? Would he not at least have sailed for Greenland after a very cursory examination of the country, however much he might have contemplated returning thither on another occasion? Even if we reject the circumstantial version of the Flatey Book altogether and attribute the observation of the sun to Karlsefni, of whom it is nowhere recorded, it seems to me that the delay necessary to collect the samples of local products mentioned in Eric’s Saga and Hauk’s Book is most unlikely to have taken place if the discovery of the country was accidental and the party desirous of returning to Greenland. For these reasons, therefore, in addition to those given above, it seems to me that we are justified in taking the Flatey version as authentic.

Storm, in his Studier over Vinlandsreisrne, urges that it was more likely that Leif, returning from Norway to Greenland, should have been driven out of his course to America than that Bjarni should have met the same fate on the shorter journey from Iceland. In the state of navigation at the time it is course by no means incredible that either captain should have missed his destination by the necessary margin. There were practically no limits to the possible deviation in those days. Thorstein, sailing to Wineland, is said to have been driven by contrary gales to the neighbourhood both of Iceland and Ireland, and whether this be true or no it clearly cannot have struck an Icelandic audience as at all improbable. It has however to be remembered that Leif, assuming the discovery to have been made on the voyage from Norway, was retracing a known course, and traversing a known distance; and if we follow the only version which supplies information on the point, he, like Karlsefni, was carried first to Helluland, which seems to argue a direction of the wind which could not be very unfavourable for his projected destination, Greenland; Bjarni, on the other hand, set out on a voyage of uncertain length across an unknown sea, and his landfall in America is stated to have been so far to the south as to point to really contrary winds. Subject to these remarks I do not think that there is much in the point, either one way or the other.

Thorvald.

The next difference to be noted is with regard to the fate of Thorvald Ericson. The Flatey Book assigns to him an independent voyage, and a reasonable death at the hands of the savages. The details of this voyage are given at length, and substantially in a natural and credible form. The other version of his death is clearly incredible, for it introduces the agency of a ‘uniped’, fabulous creature, not unknown to classical legend.

Hauk’s story, moreover, makes Thorvald a companion of Karlsefni, not an independent explorer. It has further to be noticed that until the episode of his death it is not certain that the original wording of this text recognizes Thorvald Ericson at all. Up to the point of Karlsefni’s expedition the only reference to Eric’s family in either of the companion texts reads as follows: ‘At that time Eric had a wife named Thjodhild, and by her two sons, one called Thorstein and the other Leif’: Thorvald, it will be observed, is not mentioned at all. In the list of those accompanying Karlsefni, the purer text of Eric’s Saga again contains no reference to this son of the house. ‘There was a man named Thorvald’, it runs, ‘who was a connexion by marriage of Eric the Red.’ Thorvald, the connexion by marriage, is obviously not Eric’s son, but, as Hauk correctly so far amends the passage, a slip for ‘Thorvard, who married Freydis, an illegitimate daughter of Eric the Red’. Hauk then interpolates ‘and Thorvald Ericson’ in conformity with the story of his death which is subsequently introduced. This, the uniped episode, seems to be later in origin than the main body of the saga. The melodramatic death-speech of Thorvald is borrowed almost verbatim from the death-scene of Thormod Kolbrunarskald, as given in the Heimskringla; so that a Greenlander in Wineland is here represented as intelligently anticipating the utterance of an Icelander in Norway. Then again the uniped, as has already been pointed out, is a borrowed conception: it is not a creature typical of the normal superstitions of early Scandinavia. The passage, as will be seen on a reference to the text, where it has been omitted, is in no way necessary to the story, and the sense is not affected by its absence. It would seem therefore as if the author of the text on which Hauk’s version is founded, having derived from another source an exaggerated and romanticized account of Thorvald’s death in Wineland, interpolated it in the saga without taking the trouble to make his account of Eric’s family or Karlsefni’s companions tally with the final form of the story.

Two of the arguments which I have already used apply with equal force to this part of the question. Thorstein, as the husband of Gudrid, who subsequently became by her marriage with Karlsefni an Icelandic heroine, was a person necessary to an Icelandic version of the story. So was Leif, because his voyage, however and whenever accomplished, was the reason of Karlsefni’s subsequent exploration. But Thorvald was a person in no way interesting to Icelanders; he had gone to Greenland with his father, probably as a child, and was ‘out of the story’. The other point is the normal trend of tradition. The important voyage, to Icelanders, was Karlsefni’s, and it was likely in the ordinary course, like Aaron’s serpent, to swallow up all minor rivals, whose continued existence was not necessary to its own. The Flatey Book version of Thorvald’s adventures and death appears to me therefore infinitely more satisfactory than the other, and the objections to it seem to have but little weight.

Freydis.

All that has been said hitherto applies to the second voyage of Freydis. After Karlsefni’s return to Iceland his interest in Greenland and in Wineland ceased, and with his own ceased naturally the interest of the normal Icelandic historian and audience. ‘And that is the end of this story’, says the author of Eric the Red’s Saga, as he lays down his pen, having got Karlsefni safe at home, and his Icelandic descendants duly chronicled. What happened in Greenland later on is no concern of his. But life in Greenland went on, and it cannot in any way be said to follow that nothing happened in the family of Eric because nothing has been recorded in a saga dealing mainly with a different person. Those who would attack the authenticity of this voyage must take other ground, and show from the story itself that it is inherently impossible. The task has no doubt been attempted, but it seems to me that the saga emerges successfully from the ordeal. The conduct of Freydis and her husband as described in the Flatey Book is entirely consistent with their characters as delineated in the rival version. I am wholly unable to follow the reasoning of Laing, who considers this incident in itself incredible, though others seem to share his view. The independence and power for evil possessed by an Icelandic wife of the saga period are well illustrated in the Njál Saga, where the wives of Njál and Gunnar respectively carry on a bloody vendetta with complete immunity to themselves, but at no inconsiderable expense to their reluctant but powerless husbands, who, though on terms of complete amity, are continually forced to pay each other compensation for the murder of members of their households perpetrated by third parties on the instigation of these women.

Of course the interview between Freydis and Finnbogi cannot be authentic, as no witness was left but Freydis herself, whose version would naturally be different, and the details of the story may well have been worked up by a later hand.

But consider the facts apart from this: Freydis, a woman everywhere represented as of masculine temper, is married to a wealthy nonentity named Thorvard. From the contemptuous vituperation which Freydis pours upon her panic-stricken companions in the skræling fight in Hauk’s Book we get a fine insight into her character. She and her husband sail to Wineland with Helgi and Finnbogi, whom she swindles and bullies at every turn. The crews of the two ships are soon not on speaking terms; a very little more will lead to a violent encounter. The brothers have a much better ship than Freydis, and on this ship she, who has got her way in every other respect, has set her heart. She makes a fruitless attempt to bargain for the coveted vessel, as Ahab treated first for Naboth’s vineyard. Her overtures repulsed, she returns in a rage to her miserable and helpless husband, to whom she represents the conduct of Helgi and Finnbogi as an insult only to be wiped out in blood. The henpecked Thorvard is screwed to the sticking-place, he turns out his men, between whom and the rival crew there is already a quarrel, smouldering under the cover of an armed neutrality. The camp of the brothers is attacked, and the men are assassinated. The women remain, damning witnesses of the outrage, whom nevertheless male chivalry would spare. ‘Hand me an axe’, says Freydis (‘Infirm of purpose, give me the daggers’). The coup is not to be ruined by humanitarian scruples: dead men (and women) tell no tales. The massacre is completed. Surely it is all consistent with our experience of women of this type in history and even in modern life. Man draws the line, he is ruled by convention, there are ‘things no fellow can do’. Woman is a law to herself, and as a result there are heights to which she climbs where no man’s ideals will follow, and depths to which she falls from which men are fortunately protected. With men, treachery and cowardice go hand in hand; in women a masculine bravery seems merely to kill their natural delicacy and horror of blood, they can be brave and yet sink to the lowest excesses of meanness and cruelty. Judith, Jezebel, Lady Macbeth—how brave they are, and yet how disgracefully treacherous! It is of course a matter for individual judgement: the touchstone for such a tale is not to be found among the canons of criticism. To me this dreadful story reads as one of the most natural, consistent, and human episodes in history; and though of course such characterization is not beyond the powers of a brilliant writer of fiction, it seems to me far more reasonable to accept it as authentic history. Why should this awful libel disfigure the annals of the distinguished house of Eric the Red, if there were nothing in it? Who would dare to invent it, if it were not true?

I contend, then, that on main lines, where the two stories are in conflict, it is preferable throughout to adopt the version of the Flatey Book, and that the alleged discrepancies come to nothing more than this, that the natural development of tradition in Iceland led, to a great extent, to the ignoring of some elements in the story and the fusion of others in what, to Icelanders, were the more important episodes. Some slight additional support to the view which has been here put forward is supplied by Adam of Bremen’s reference to Wineland, which has been referred to in another chapter. For he states that this country has been ‘a multis repertam’, that is to say, discovered or explored by many. This, so far as it goes, is in favour of the Flatey Book, for a country visited on but two occasions, one of which was accidental, could hardly be so described.

Even where the narratives are in closer agreement, the Flatey Book appears to me on the whole the more reliable version.

Courses.

Especially is this the case with the courses given in the narrative. According to the Saga of Eric the Red and Hauk’s Book, Karlsefni rarely sailed in any direction except south. Thus, Greenland to Helluland is south; Helluland to Markland either south or south-east; Markland to Keelness south according to Hauk, the companion version being silent; Straumsfjord to Hóp, once more, south. Now, wherever we place the lands discovered in America, the situation really calls for a great deal more west than south for a large part of the voyage. In a statement which is only approximate, the bearing we need is south-west. This occurs nowhere in the synoptic versions. Now compare the Flatey Book. Bjarni’s return is all north-east; the lands therefore lie, as they do in fact, on a south-westerly line. Leif sails south-west from Markland to Wineland, and it is implied that his course elsewhere corresponded with Bjarni’s. This gives us at any rate good foundation for supposing the data in the Flatey Book to be the more authentic. At the very least these statements go far to establish the entire independence of the Flatey version, and to demolish the suggestion already dealt with that this narrative is merely a perverted embroidery of hints contained in the other.

It is astonishing to find that Storm and his school prefer the courses set out in the rival version, and seem to evince great difficulty in making anything of the Flatey Book’s geography. They even say that the latter conveys to them the idea of a coast facing north or north-east. How this is arrived at it is difficult to see. When Bjarni turned in a north-easterly direction to search for a way home, we are told that he ‘left the land on the port side’. This clearly indicates that the coast lay to the north of him and faced south, trending away to the north in a little while so as to disappear from sight. So again Thorvald from his base in Wineland can go east or west, but to reach ‘the more northerly part of the country’ he has first to turn east. This conveys the same idea as Bjarni’s voyage, a south-facing coast, turning to the north at its eastern extremity. True, there is a word in this voyage which seems to imply an easterly course after leaving Keelness; this will be discussed later, but in any case, if it had to be rejected, it would not justify the views expressed by Storm and his followers as to the Flatey Book’s geography as a whole.

The Stranded Whale.

I have incorporated the rival version of Karlsefni’s voyage in the story as I have rendered it, as the differences are but small, and the version adopted is less condensed and therefore fuller of information. I will however give an instance to show that here also the Flatey version is the more likely to be accurate. Undoubtedly the oldest parts of the text of either authority are the verses ascribed to Thorhall the Hunter in the saga adopted by Hauk. These are admitted by the most exacting critics to bear all the indications of a date corresponding with their ascribed origin. Even Dr. Nansen allows their genuineness. Now it will probably have struck the careful reader that the second of these two poems bears no sort of relation to its context. The verses, either expressly or by necessary implication, convey the following facts:

1. They are the utterance of a person who is leaving the New World behind, to return to his own country.

2. Those whom he is leaving behind him are at Furdustrands.

3. These people are satisfied with a diet of boiled whale, which the poet considers unattractive.

The text, on the other hand, conveys a totally different set of facts:

1. The verses are composed by a person who is proposing to coast northwards in search of Wineland.

2. The explorers are at Straumsfjord, far to the south of Furdustrands, and the main body are proposing to go even further away from that locality. (I do not, however, attach much importance to this discrepancy, believing as I do that the name Furdustrands was applied broadly to a large district in which Straumsfjord may well have been included.)

3. The one person who appeared pleased with the whale, and indeed claimed the credit for its appearance, was the author of the poem. The rest were made ill by it, and on hearing of its supposed origin refused altogether to eat it.

These differences are clearly quite irreconcilable, and, the poem being the more reliable authority, the version in the text at this point must be abandoned. As Storm says, the fact that the author has plainly misunderstood the verses quoted is in itself evidence of the greater age of the latter. But in the Flatey Book, though, the account being much condensed, no mention is made of Thorhall or his verses, the whale is given a perfectly natural origin, and is eaten without any contretemps by the whole body of the explorers. We may, however, reasonably assume that such fare would not be relished by a fastidious person, and might well provoke the utterance of the sentiments embodied in the old song. There is at all events no inconsistency between the text of the Flatey Book and the poem.

There are one or two minor discrepancies which must now be considered. Leif’s visit to Norway is said in the Flatey Book to have taken place sixteen years after Eric’s colonization of Greenland. This would date his arrival after Olaf’s death in September 1000. But Eric had explored Greenland with an eye to the colony three years before it was actually inaugurated, and if we take it that the date of the first visit is referred to as part of the same transaction this point disappears.

Thori Eastman.

In no other account in Icelandic literature do we find Gudrid mentioned as the widow or wife of Thori Eastman, i.e. the Norwegian, whom Leif rescued from the wreck. It is still not improbable that she was so. Gudrid apparently arrived in Greenland about the time that Leif was absent on his voyage of discovery, and Thori, from his remarks as reported in the Flatey Book, seems to have been acquainted with Brattahlid before his shipwreck, which was not far from the coast of Greenland. Supposing him to have married Gudrid about this time, we are told that he died the same winter, and Gudrid would almost immediately be free to be married, as we are told she was, to Thorstein Ericson; consequently when Karlsefni married her, which was the important incident in her career from the point of view of the saga genealogists, she would be, as all accounts make her, Thorstein’s widow, and the brief episode of her marriage with the comparatively insignificant Thori would soon be forgotten, particularly as Thori was a Norwegian, and therefore of no interest to Icelanders.

Death of Eric the Red.

A more important question arises in connexion with various conflicting statements as to the ultimate religious faith of Eric the Red, and the precise time of his death. On these points the Flatey Book is not quite consistent with itself, for in the body of the Olaf Tryggvason Saga, chap. 352, it states that Eric was converted. This passage, however, is evidently from a different source, and speaking broadly we have the statement in the Flatey Book that Eric died in the winter following Leif’s return from Wineland, which would hardly give time for his admittedly slow conversion to Christianity, while in Hauk’s version Eric lives on to the time of Karlsefni. The repeated statements in other authorities as to Eric’s low opinion of the priest, whom he described as a humbug or hypocrite, give colour to the theory that he died unconverted. The priestly chronicler of his achievements, on the other hand, would doubtless favour any rumour of the final conversion of his hero. It would hardly do, if it could be avoided, to leave this pioneer of colonial enterprise in the hell which the belief of the period would inevitably assign to him if he refused to the end to abandon his old creed.

I am inclined to think, on the whole, that the Flatey Book is correct in saying that Eric was dead when the later voyages took place.

If we glance at the chronology we find that Eric, by 981 or 982 (date of first Greenland voyage), had been long enough in Iceland to have made many friends as well as enemies. Before he came to Iceland he was old enough to be implicated in homicide with his father.[75] He married, and one son was born before his three years’ exile from Iceland. The sons of Thord Gelli, brothers, that is, of Karlsefni’s grandmother, were among his active enemies. The father of Gudrid, Thorbjörn Vifilson, was among his contemporaries, as was Herjulf, who had a grown-up son who had owned a ship for some years in 985–6. True, Snorri Godi, born 963, and the sons of Thorbrand of Alptafjord, were among those who participated in his quarrels, but they must have been among his younger contemporaries. In 985 or 986 Eric had an established position as a leader of men; at the date of Leif’s voyage he considered himself an old man. If we put his birth midway between that of Snorri Godi (963) and his father (938), we shall not then be far wrong. Eric, therefore, would be born about 950.

Now Karlsefni’s voyage, in spite of some statements to the contrary in the sagas, cannot have taken place till about a quarter of a century after Leif’s, whether we date the latter from a.d. 1000, following Hauk, or 1002, accepting the Flatey Book. This, though not generally recognized, is clear from the known dates of the descendants of Karlsefni’s Wineland-born son. Snorri’s grandson, Bishop Thorlak, was born, as we find in the Annals, in 1085; Bishop Brand the first, Snorri’s great-grandson, died in 1201. Brand’s mother therefore, of the same generation as Thorlak, can hardly have been born so early as 1085. Putting the mean date of the birth of Snorri’s children at thirty years before 1085, which is making a liberal allowance, we get the date 1055. Snorri therefore cannot have been born much before 1025. If the Flatey Book is correct, Gudrid was married in 1003, and she certainly was of a marriageable age before leaving Iceland, and was a widow when Karlsefni married her. Karlsefni’s voyage and the birth of Snorri should accordingly be placed rather earlier than 1025, say 1020. At this time Eric would be about 70 years old, and, especially if he was ageing in 1002, it is most improbable that he survived so long amid the hardships of life in Greenland.

Again, when King Olaf the Holy, about 1018, wished to get rid of the troublesome blind king Rörek, and commissioned Thorar Nefjolfson to take him to Greenland, it was Leif Ericson, and not his father, whom he designated as consignee. (Vide Heimskringla, Saga of Olaf the Holy, c. 85.)

Finally, it seems strange that Leif should not have accompanied Karlsefni on his voyage if there was nothing in particular for him to do in Greenland, whereas if the management of Brattahlid and the control of the colony had devolved on his shoulders by his father’s death, the position is quite intelligible.[76]

There is accordingly abundant reason to conclude that on this point also the Flatey Book is right, and Hauk is wrong.

Other small discrepancies which have not escaped the vigilance of commentators can be explained as clerical slips, and consequently do not go to the root of the matter. The alleged improbability of certain details in both narratives will fall to be discussed hereafter.

It seems to me, however, that too much importance may easily be attached to the fruits of this sort of microscopic criticism. The broad fact that we have two quite independent versions telling to all intents and purposes the same story—at any rate providing material for a substantially consistent and circumstantial history collated from both sources—is much more important than the existence of any number of minor discrepancies. By placing ourselves as far as possible in the positions both of the actors and chroniclers of these adventures we are likely, I think, to get a fuller appreciation of the facts as they were and of the truth with which they have been related than if we pore with a too studious eye over every line and every word, with a view, if it be possible, to establish an inevitable but trivial inconsistency.

A Greenland Saga?

The reader who has carefully followed the argument so far will at this point probably be disposed to make some such observation as follows: You argue that the story is more likely to have lost the additional facts given in the Flatey Book than to have invented them by the natural operation of tradition. Well and good. You also point out, with a certain amount of plausibility, that the probable state of interest and knowledge in Iceland was just such as to produce precisely those alterations and omissions from what you consider the true course of the story, which, according to you, have taken place in what we may call Hauk’s version. You appear to forget, however, that both texts are Icelandic, and that this argument ought therefore to apply with equal force to the Flatey version, where the parts uninteresting to Icelanders are notwithstanding retained.

My first answer to this would be that it is quite possible that actual facts might be retained in one version in Iceland, even though not of great interest to the people of that country, but it is highly improbable that an Icelandic chronicler would be at the pains to supply by invention precisely those points in which his audience would feel the least concern.

My own private conviction, however, is that the Flatey version is in the main drawn from a Greenland source. Here we are embarking upon conjecture, a conjecture, by the way, which has been made before, but it may be interesting shortly to consider the grounds upon which such a theory is based.

It is in the first place improbable that in the narrow confines of Iceland two quite independent versions of the same story should exist side by side. The original story-tellers in this country were peripatetic, there was a close intercourse between families residing in different parts of the island, and it would be strange if the tradition of one district had remained unaffected by that of another. But the point most universally admitted with regard to these two versions is that, except for certain introductory and genealogical points derived from a common source, the Landnámabók, while on the whole the facts correspond, the stories are obviously independent.

This curious circumstance is at once explained if we suppose the historian of the Flatey Book to have had access to a saga composed in Greenland.

Next, it is a marked and unique characteristic of the Flatey manuscript considered as a whole that the library from which it was derived was evidently rich in literature treating of the Scandinavian colonies which existed outside the confines of Iceland. This feature has been noticed by Vigfusson in his preface to the Orkney Saga in the Rolls Series (p. xxxii). ‘Its pages’, he writes of the Flatey Book, ‘preserve more than half of all we know of the older history of the Orkneys, the Faroes, Greenland, and Vineland (America). Indeed John Haconson and his two scribes seem for some reason, now unknown, to have paid particular attention to gathering up every scrap relating to these neighbour-lands of Outer, or Colonial, Scandinavia.’ It is therefore precisely in such a work as the Flatey Book that we might expect to find incorporated a saga derived from an outlandish source such as I have suggested. We know, too, that the practice of saga-telling went on in the new colony as in the old, as indeed was a priori probable. In the Saga, of Eric the Red such a form of entertainment is expressly mentioned as a means whereby the nights of the Arctic winter were enlivened during the visit of Karlsefni to Brattahlid. The stock-in-trade of these Greenland story-tellers must inevitably have included a detailed account of the founder of the colony, thus supplying a rival ‘Eric’s Saga’ such as I have argued (supra, p. 108) that the Flatey Book is referring to in the passage where ‘Eric’s Saga’ is mentioned. Now, on turning to internal evidence, we shall find that corroboration of the theory advanced is by no means wanting. Not only does the Flatey Book, as has been remarked already, supply precisely those episodes in which Greenland rather than Iceland would be interested, e.g. Bjarni’s voyage, the circumstances, date, and details of Leif’s, and the full description of Eric’s family, but conversely, where Greenland interest would naturally cease, the Flatey Book is far less rich in detail than its rivals. Take, for example, the case of Gudrid. To Icelanders this lady was a most important character, the ancestress of many distinguished men. To Greenlanders she was a girl who paid a temporary visit to the colony, and was for a few months the wife of a son of the house of Brattahlid who met with an early death, before the promise of his youth was fulfilled. She then married the Icelander, Karlsefni, and disappeared from their ken. Consequently, though the Icelandic scribe of the Flatey Book has been able to supply some facts about her descendants in the concluding paragraphs of the story, we find an extraordinary lack of information on the subject of Gudrid in this version as compared with the other.

In the Flatey Book she is subordinate in importance to the truculent Freydis and her henpecked husband. Besides the principal adventures of this couple we are given a summary of their characters, the mercenary nature of their union, and the exact place of their abode, which is described in a phrase of more interest, one would think, to a Greenland than an Icelandic audience, as ‘Garda, where the cathedral is now’. Of Gudrid’s origin we are told nothing. She appears suddenly in the Flatey Book as the wife of the Norseman Thori, who was rescued at sea by Leif. Of this marriage, which is only recorded in this one source, I have spoken already. Whether it is to be accepted as a fact or no is not for the moment material, the point is that Gudrid comes abruptly into the story as a person whose previous history is of no importance. In the rival versions she is the principal character, who holds the stage from start to finish. The saga opens with a passage—otherwise irrelevant—explaining the origin of her family in Iceland, in the days of her alleged grandfather, Vifil. Next, after Eric the Red has migrated to Greenland, we have another interlude devoted to explaining the reasons which brought about her emigration with her father to the new colony, followed by a description of the sibyl’s séance in which Gudrid played so important a part, which is so vivid and real as to give rise to the suspicion that it may have been derived from the description of Gudrid herself.

Now the usually accepted explanation of the Flatey version is that, being composed in the north of Iceland, in close proximity to the religious establishment associated with Gudrid’s piety, and in the district where Karlsefni’s family were settled, the story is derived from the reports of the Icelandic explorer. And indeed, the final paragraphs, wherein the descendants of the pair are duly recorded, may well be ascribed to a local origin. That some combination of different sources takes place at this point is indicated by the fact that the statement ‘many men are descended from Karlsefni’ occurs twice over in separate places towards the end of the saga. It reads, in fact, exactly as if the final passage beginning ‘and when Karlsefni was dead’ was an addition from local sources. But is it not in the last degree surprising, if the accepted theory be true of the whole story, that here alone we should be imperfectly informed as to the career and descent of the local heroine?

Again, if this story is the result of the full report which we are told that Karlsefni left of his adventures, is it not remarkable that in the description of this voyage alone the Flatey Book gives place, in point of circumstance and detail, to the rival account? Not a word is said of the Icelandic co-adventurers, Bjarni Grimolfson and Snorri; nay, we are given to understand that Karlsefni had come from Norway, without stopping on his way in Iceland to join forces with any such companions. And the whole story of the voyage, unlike the other expeditions detailed in the Flatey Book, is, when compared with the alternative account, quite sketchy and meagre. It may well be accurate as far as it goes, for Karlsefni evidently returned to Greenland before proceeding home, and many of his companions were Greenlanders, but it is, as one would expect of a Greenland version of this story, compressed into the briefest summary.

If the account of the Wineland voyages to be found in the Flatey Book originated in Greenland, it is evident that it was far less exposed than the Icelandic sagas to literary and other influences derived from communication with other countries. Intercourse between Greenland and the outside world must always have been rare, and the effect of the edict issued by the King of Norway in 1294 creating trade relations with Greenland a crown monopoly led very speedily to the decline and disappearance of the colony, which appears to have been completed about a.d. 1400. In particular, the edict cut off communication from Iceland. Only in one respect should we expect to find a Greenland saga affected by modern developments. And this is just what we actually do find in the present case.

Direct Voyages to Norway.

As Dr. Storm has pointed out in the preface to his excellent edition of the Saga of Eric the Red, the Flatey narrative contains an extraordinary number of direct voyages between Greenland and Norway. Apart from Bjarni Herjulfson, there is first Karlsefni’s arrival, which is here stated to be from Norway; there is his return, direct to Norway, where he sells his ‘húsa-snotra’ to a German from Bremen; and finally there is the arrival of the brothers, Helgi and Finnbogi, from Norway, in the story of Freydis’s expedition.

Now Dr. Storm sees in all this merely an additional count in his indictment against the Flatey Book. This talk of direct voyages between Greenland and Norway smacks of the days of the royal monopoly; Germans from Bremen suggest a date subsequent to the establishment of the Hanseatic League in Bergen. I think these anachronisms are established with some degree of certainty; but it also occurs to me that the mistake is more suggestive of a Greenland than an Icelandic source. It is difficult to suppose that the infrequent ships which sailed to Greenland under the royal monopoly in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries did not in fact call at Iceland, which lay directly in their track. If they did so, they would not suggest to an Icelander the idea of direct voyages between Norway and Greenland; if they did not, they would not be present to the Icelandic mind at all. To a Greenlander of about the period of the Flatey Book’s composition, or even earlier, any ship which arrived off Greenland would, on the other hand, be ‘a ship from Norway’; i.e. a ship bringing his necessary supplies from the only available source. And, as the original sagas handed down to him would hardly be concerned very much with the origin or destination of the ships which came to Greenland, the error of introducing Norway might easily creep in.

So too with the episode of the Bremen merchant. It smacks of the fourteenth century, and it is obvious that the doings of Karlsefni after leaving Greenland would not be accurately known to an inhabitant of that country. But it seems not improbable that the Greenlanders, being without timber, continued to visit the new lands to obtain such commodities, especially for use in ship-building, and indeed the Icelandic Annals for 1347 contain an allusion to a ship coming from Markland. It must be remembered that ‘mösur’ wood is not elsewhere specifically mentioned in the Flatey Book account, which makes it probable that this passage is from a different source from the main narrative. But, at a later date, some anonymous Greenlander may well have sold a ‘húsa-snotra’, which appears to have been something connected with a ship, to a German at Bergen or elsewhere, and, in conformity with the tendency to which allusion has been made of attributing the actions of lesser-known characters to those more distinguished, the transaction may easily have come to be associated with Karlsefni, as the principal hero of the Wineland tradition, and the only one who after his return left the coasts of Greenland.

All this points to Greenland as the country where the Flatey Book version of the story originated, and if this be so it not only accounts for several inconsistencies in the rival versions, but renders it likely that the account here preserved escaped the contamination which affected the later Icelandic sagas, through the influence of foreign literature.

III. THE STORIES AS HISTORY

It has now, I think, been established that the Norse discovery of America is an historical fact, and that the broad lines of the story have a substantial claim to be regarded as history. While so much has been and must be generally admitted, there is still a considerable difference of opinion as to how far the details of any and which of the versions are to be treated as part of an authentic record, and how far, if at all, the saga has become contaminated with external and mythological influences. Some writers, such as Rafn and Horsford, have treated these records with a credulity to which no early work of history is probably entitled; others, of whose views Dr. Nansen is perhaps the most distinguished exponent, consider the admissible element of truth to have been so overlaid with fiction and imported mythology that the details can no longer make any claim to be regarded as historical. ‘It will therefore be seen’, says the writer last referred to, ‘that the whole narrative of the Wineland voyages is a mosaic of one feature after another gathered from East and West.’[77]

Between these two schools of opinion it is necessary for us to pick our way, and in doing so I propose to devote the largest part of my attention to the arguments of Dr. Nansen, which set out most skilfully, and with a wealth of research which it would be difficult to equal, the point of view which is most directly opposed to my own.

Admixture of the Supernatural.

Of course in the writings of so primitive and superstitious an age, based upon oral traditions of an even earlier date, we cannot expect to find a standard of historical accuracy equal to that of the present day. The authors, however truthful in intention, had not reached a stage of enlightenment enabling them to winnow fact from myth, both elements appearing to them to be equally credible. As Livy candidly postulated in the case of Rome, some licence must be conceded to antiquity in the dressing-up of early history by an admixture of superstition with the facts it seeks to record. ‘To suppose’, says Dasent, in his admirable introduction to the Njál Saga, ‘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.’ In other words, one would be entitled to regard the authenticity of any history alleged to be early with great suspicion, if no traces of the supernatural were to be found in it. Such things are to be seen in contemporary chronicles of early times no less than in histories written long after the events described; the evidence might not be sufficient to satisfy a member of the Psychical Research Society, but it was good enough for those who lived in primitive and credulous times. The ghosts and miracles of such history, not in Iceland alone but everywhere, are not conscious inventions on the part of the historian, and do not really damage his credit.

It will be observed, in the narratives here under consideration, that the great bulk of the supernatural happenings is confined to the part dealing with Greenland, the part, that is, which is in the main most conclusively established. Greenland of course was intended to be a permanent colony, and consequently for some time communication, of a more or less intermittent character, was maintained between that country and Scandinavia. As a further result of this protracted occupation of the country, traces were left which remain at the present time. Ruins of houses and churches have been discovered, together with the bones of horses, cattle, and other animals. Had the circumstances been different, had Greenland been merely the object of fleeting visits such as those of the explorers of Wineland, it may well be doubted whether the scepticism with which some have been disposed to regard the alleged exploration of the latter would not have been extended to the former. We should have had our attention drawn to supernatural episodes such as that of the apparitions in Lysefjord (see Thorstein’s voyage), the inclement climate of the locality and the inappropriateness of the name Greenland would have been insisted on, and the mention of horses and cattle would not improbably have been regarded as incredible. But the successful colonization of Greenland is an historical fact, and its story is chronicled in precisely those sagas which are here under consideration with regard to Wineland. It is therefore prima facie unlikely that writings found to be historical so far as it is possible to test them, in one respect should suddenly develop a character mainly fictitious, as alleged by Dr. Nansen and others.

Character of Early History.

Still it must be admitted that the historians of these early times, in Iceland as elsewhere, were not so scientific in their methods as those of the present day. The word History still retained its derivative kinship with Story; the Muse presiding over this branch of literature had not yet settled down in the humdrum ménage of meticulous professors. Like the classical and scriptural historians, the Icelandic chroniclers considered themselves at liberty to clothe the dry bones of their material, and even to present in the lively form of dialogue speeches of which the substance only could have been known. If, for example, the saga-writer has to chronicle the discovery of wild grapes, it is quite natural for him to assume that a sailor who found the means of intoxication ready to his hand did not neglect his opportunities. This explains the conduct of the German, Tyrker, in the Flatey Book, a great stumbling-block to some commentators. In the same category comes Hauk’s account of the incantations of Thorhall the Hunter; it is an expansion of a stranded-whale episode from the hint given in Thorhall’s verses, and a very careless and inconsistent one at that. Other absurdities can be explained in the same way, and the names of such places as Keelness may have suggested the conflicting stories told to account for them.

Again, if the historian had ready to hand a picturesque anecdote from a different source, but manifestly connected with the principal theme, which could be fitted into the main story, he would have little hesitation in using it, though the unscientific joinery would be often painfully evident. Hake and Hekja, for instance, whether or no they have an historical basis, are manifestly introduced in the wrong place, before any vines had really been discovered, and the limits of the inserted passage are made glaringly apparent by the fact that the last words of the preceding matter are substantially repeated immediately afterwards (‘gerðiz vágskorit lanðit’ ... ‘er varð fjarðskorit’). Such interpolations are frequently of great interest, as affording what really amounts to independent confirmation of the story: they show it to have been widely discussed and accepted at an early date, but they hardly redound to the credit of the first amalgamating editor.

Dr. Nansen’s Position.

A certain degree of caution is necessary, therefore, in the scientific investigation of this as of all early historical documents. But Dr. Nansen is not content with such reservations as these. He goes so far in the direction of scepticism that the reader wonders in the end that the frail remnants to which he clings are sufficient to hold this author to any belief in the Norse discovery of America. His arguments, if sound, play havoc with the very foundations of the story, and if he sits unmoved among the ruins it is fair to doubt if he will find many to share his attitude, or to trust to the tottering remains. It is advisable, therefore, to examine Dr. Nansen’s arguments rather closely, and to see whether the records which we are investigating are really as unreliable as he has suggested.

Minor Objections.

It would take a disproportionate allowance of space to deal in detail with all the smaller and more incidental points in the argument. Some of them will be found noticed elsewhere in the present volume, and one or two may here be mentioned as typical. Dr. Nansen suggests, for example, that the statement in the Icelandic Annals for 1121 that Eric, Bishop of Greenland, went out to seek (leita) Wineland, shows that Wineland was at that date not a known but a legendary country, for ‘leita’ can only apply to a search for that the existence of which is undetermined. For instances of a use of the word which entirely upset such an argument it is not necessary to look outside the sagas dealing with the present subject, where we find that Aud the Wealthy ‘fór at leita Íslands’ (went to seek Iceland), at a time when her own brother was already settled there, and long after the foundation of the Icelandic colony.

Again, Dr. Nansen asks us to see ‘an air of myth and invention’ in the numerous Thor-names—Thorvald, Thorhall, Thorstein, Thorfin, &c.—which are undoubtedly to be found in this story. To find, however, such names conferred on men born in heathendom seems to me to prove less than nothing, particularly when we find in the index of names to the Landnámabók no fewer than fourteen pages in double columns devoted to men and women whose names began with Thor.

Occurrence of Number Three.

Of perhaps greater importance is the resemblance to fairy-tale which Dr. Nansen seeks to establish from the frequent occurrence of the number three.[78] This feature is not conspicuous in the Flatey Book version, which gives us no fewer than six voyages—Bjarni, Leif, Thorvald, Thorstein, Karlsefni, and Freydis—while the distances between the lands are not given as equal in all cases. In the companion version it is true that the figure three plays or can be made to play a considerable part, yet it is doubtful if so much use can fairly be made of the point as Dr. Nansen argues. There are three voyages—Leif’s, Thorstein’s, Karlsefni’s; but the fact that the second alone is unsuccessful robs the number of the significance which we should expect in fairy-tale. Karlsefni’s expedition consists of three ships, but this is explained by the circumstance that two of these belonged to the visitors to Greenland, while one was manned by the local contingent. Each ship had two leaders—not one or three—and the crews totalled 160 men, so that the figure three is here only to be found by selection from other quite arbitrary numbers. That three countries are visited is only true if we take the nomenclature of the Flatey Book; in the companion account we may rather say that five places are mentioned—Helluland, Markland, Furdustrands, Straumsfjord, and Hóp. With regard to the number of days’ voyage between the different places visited, no emphasis is laid on the number three; the figure recorded is two, and in some cases a long while. If it is said that two days’ voyage involves an arrival on the third day, then no use can fairly be made of the three days’ search for Thorhall on the island, who was found on the fourth day. Dr. Nansen draws attention to the fact that three meetings with skrælings are recorded, but this is only true of the skrælings at Hóp; it omits the five skrælings found sleeping by the sea, and those whose boys were captured in Markland. If the episode at Hóp is to be treated by itself, it is not a fair argument to say that there were three casualties, for only two men were killed at this time, with four of the savages. If Thorvald’s death at the hands of the uniped is to be included, it would be reasonable to take the total loss to the expedition from all causes, which would comprise Thorhall the Hunter and his eight or nine companions, and Bjarni Grimolfson with about half his crew. Altogether the uniformity of fairy-tale seems conspicuously absent, and the mystic figure, appearing as it does with other numbers which Dr. Nansen ignores, is explicable on quite rational hypotheses.

The Wild Grapes.

Turning now to the broader issues of Dr. Nansen’s argument, they may be summarized as follows. The wild grapes and corn are rejected altogether, and traced to legends of the Insulae Fortunatae in Isidore Hispalensis and classical sources. Most of the other salient features of the narrative, the whale, the bird-island, and above all the skrælings, are treated as derived in the main from Irish legend.

The alleged classical and Celtic influences it will be convenient to consider separately.

I may state at the outset that I believe there is something in Dr. Nansen’s argument from the unusual form of the name Vínland hit Goða, which however in its complete form is hardly to be found in the text of the sagas.

I think it quite possible that this is an Icelandic form of the classical Insulae Fortunatae, but I differ from the author under consideration in concluding, for my part, that the Norsemen, or those who recorded their achievements, identified the newly discovered country with these legendary islands, or considered that the name was appropriate, because of the commodities actually found in America.

It seems to me that herein may have lain the great importance attached to the discovery of the grapes, &c., things of which Scandinavians had little knowledge and could make but little use.

That wild grapes, at all events, were discovered I regard as indisputable. Before the introduction of Christian learning into Iceland and Greenland, which could hardly have been far advanced at the time of the actual voyages, it cannot be said that any knowledge of Isidore or the Insulae Fortunatae is likely to have existed in these countries.

Now the verses of Thorhall the Hunter are admitted by all authorities to bear the marks of contemporary composition. And it cannot be disputed that the first of these verses contains an allusion to the discovery of the grape and is very strong evidence that information of this discovery had penetrated to Greenland at a date earlier than that of the voyage in which the author took part. It is hardly possible, in my opinion, to exaggerate the significance of a contemporary composition which says in effect ‘I had been told before I started that I should find vines, but I have not done so’. The latter part of the verse is immaterial, for it may well have been the case, as indeed is stated in the saga, that the vine region had not at this stage been reached by the expedition; the point is that such a region appears to have been discovered by some predecessor of Thorhall, who composed his verse at a period when knowledge of the Fortunate Islands can hardly have penetrated to the Icelandic or Greenland Colonies. It is moreover not without importance that the briefest accounts of Leif’s voyage contain allusions to the discovery of a ‘Wineland’, showing that this was in fact the salient feature of the discovery in the minds of those who heard of it, even if the name was not conferred by the explorers themselves.

Then too we have the evidence of Adam of Bremen, to which allusion has been made in the chapter on sources. Adam, indeed, is likely to have been well acquainted with the classical allusions to the Fortunate Isles, but the same can hardly be predicated of his informant King Svein of Denmark, and the Danes whose ‘certa relatio’ is contrasted by this author, and as I think purposely contrasted, with the ‘fabulosa opinio’ on which the existence of such a country had hitherto rested. Adam’s testimony, dating from about 1070, may therefore be regarded as very strong and practically contemporary corroboration of the discovery of the vines alluded to in these sagas.

Again, it is clear that by the time of Ari the Learned, who was born in 1067, the name Wineland had become definitely attached to a country discovered in the west by the Norse explorers, whose existence and position were well enough known to be understood in a casual allusion. It seems to me in the last degree improbable that, by the time Ari wrote, so large an accretion of legend should have collected round the story of the discovery as to account for the name containing an allusion to wine if grapes had not in fact been discovered there. The style of Ari’s writings, as indeed of all the earlier sagas, is the most independent and natural to be found in the whole of literature; this is due to the absence in these times of almost all external influence. It is clear too that Ari was well qualified for the duties of an historian by a most discriminating judgement as to the merits of his sources of information; he is constantly giving us the names and qualifications of the persons from whom his statements are derived, and their knowledge not infrequently goes back to the period now under consideration; hence it is impossible to ignore the value of a mention of a land of vines or wine in the work of this early and conscientious authority.

But it is further to be observed that if the Norsemen discovered America—and it is generally agreed that they did—the commodities of which the sagas speak were in fact there, waiting to be discovered. Precisely the same two things—wild grapes and cereals—struck almost every one of the rediscoverers and later explorers of this continent. The coincidence of a mention of wild vines and corn in the mythical lands of classical writers is just as strong an argument against the truthfulness of these later explorers as of the Norsemen, yet no one doubts their word, corroborated as it is by the facts known to us at the present day. The whole force of Dr. Nansen’s argument under this head rests upon this coincidence; in fact, he summarizes it in these words: ‘The resemblance between this description (Isidore’s of the Fortunate Isles) and that of Wineland is so close that it cannot be explained away as fortuitous.’[79] Yet the resemblance is just as close between the passage cited and many in the reports of later explorers, where it is quite certainly fortuitous.

A few examples of such passages may here be given:

Cartier.—(Brion Island.) ‘We found it full of goodly trees, meadows, fields of wild corn.’

(North Point, Prince Edward Island.) ‘We landed there this day in four places to see the trees, which are wonderfully fair, &c.,—many others to us unknown.—The lands where there are no woods are very fair, and all so full of wild corn, like rye, that it seems to have been sown and cultivated there.’

(Baye de Chaleur.) ‘Their land is more temperate in heat than the land of Spain—and there is not here any little spot void of woods and made up of sand, which may not be full of wild grain, which has an ear like rye, and the kernel like oats.’

(St. Lawrence River.) ‘On both sides of it we found the fairest and best lands to look at that it may be possible to behold—full of the goodliest trees in the world, and so many vines loaded with grapes along the said river that it seems that they may rather have been planted there by the hand of man than otherwise: but because they are not cultivated nor pruned, the grapes are not so big and sweet as ours.’

Again, ‘Finest trees in the world: to wit, oaks, elms, &c., and, what are better, a great many vines, which had so great abundance of grapes that the crew came aboard all loaded down with them.’

Champlain.—(Richmond Island.) ‘Many vineyards bearing beautiful grapes in their season.’

(Cape Anne.) ‘We found in this place a great many vines, the green grapes on which were a little larger than peas.’

(Gloucester Bay.) ‘We saw some very fine grapes just ripe.’

Charles Leigh.—‘Concerning the nature and fruitfulnesse of Brion’s Island, Isle Blanche, and of Ramea, they do by nature yeeld exceeding plenty of wood, great store of wild corne like barley, &c.’

Hudson.—(Near Cape Cod.) ‘They went on land, and found goodly grapes and rose-trees, and brought them aboard with them.’

Denys.—(St. John’s River.) ‘There is found here also a great quantity of wild grapes.’

It may further be noticed that both Champlain and Cartier conferred on different places the name Île de Bacchus, from the circumstance that grapes were found there. This name, particularly as it is used of different localities, seems quite as much open to Dr. Nansen’s attack as the Norsemen’s Vínland hit Goða. One can imagine the force with which the eminent explorer could point out the manifest connexion with classical sources, and the close resemblance between this nomenclature and that of the legendary islands from which he thinks the Norsemen drew their vines. If then the resemblance in these cases is fortuitous, as it clearly is, what becomes of Dr. Nansen’s argument?

The Corn.

It will be noticed that in the passages above cited not only the vine but the wild corn also makes its appearance. It is clear, therefore, that any argument based on analogy or resemblance to these features of the Fortunate Islands is quite inconclusive. Nevertheless the case for the vines is, it must be admitted, considerably stronger than that for the corn. In the first place, no mention of the latter commodity occurs in the Flatey version, if the reference to ‘a wooden corn-barn’ be explicable on another hypothesis, as I have endeavoured to indicate in treating of Thorvald’s voyage.

In the second place, most of the later explorers seem to have meant by ‘wild corn’ something in the nature of lyme-grass (Arundo arenaria). But there is a difficulty in accepting this plant as the ‘wild wheat’ of the Icelanders, since lyme-grass, under the name of ‘melur’, was well known to this people; a reference to the method employed in comparatively recent times in preparing flour from it will be found in Troil’s Letters on Iceland at page 105. It is true that Professor Fernald of Boston, in his paper on the plants of Wineland, identifies not only the corn, but the vines and the mösur wood, with commodities known to the Norsemen in their own countries, but this has always seemed to me to add to the already insuperable difficulties in the way of accepting his theories, to which I shall have occasion to revert later on.

All the same, I am inclined to think that something in the nature of lyme-grass may be indicated by the wild corn, and if so perhaps we may here trace to some extent the influence of the classical legends on which Dr. Nansen lays stress. One may imagine, without much straining of probability, that on hearing of the vines learned people would ask leading questions as to the existence of corn, and so the lyme-grass, hitherto considered, as we see from the Flatey Book, to be comparatively unimportant, might have reappeared under a new name. One can certainly imagine the schoolmaster, Adam of Bremen, in his cross-examination of the Danes from whom his information was derived, on hearing of the vines, making some inquiry as to the existence of some sort of wild corn, and being quite truthfully told that it did exist.

However this may be, the identification of the wild corn will always be an insoluble problem. The older commentators on these sagas used to consider that maize was indicated, but this is not, properly speaking, a wild plant, and moreover bears singularly little resemblance to any European cereal. The later school mostly identifies the corn of the sagas with wild rice, but this is open to the objection that it is an aquatic plant. On the whole, therefore, while I think the discovery of the vine is indisputable, and was the cause rather than the effect of any trace of the influence of the legends of the Insulae Fortunatae to be met with in the sagas, I confess, in spite of the coincidence of the reports of later explorers, to regarding the corn as a more difficult problem.

In any case it seems to me that the absence of all mention of wild corn in the Flatey Book version has a most significant bearing on Dr. Nansen’s argument. For in practically all references to the Fortunate Islands the corn and the vines are so closely connected that a borrower from such sources could hardly take the one without the other.

E.g. Horace, Epodes, xvi. 41:

‘Beata
petamus arva, divites et insulas;
reddit ubi Cererem tellus inarata quotannis,
et imputata floret usque vinea’;

and Isidore, Etymologiarum xiv. 6:

‘Fortuitis vitibus iuga collium vestiuntur; ad herbarum vicem messis.’

The existence, therefore, of a circumstantial account of Wineland, which contains no mention of wild corn, makes any derivative connexion between the descriptions of this country and the Insulae Fortunatae, apart from all other difficulties, exceedingly improbable.

Celtic Legends.

When we turn to the other features of the saga, we find Dr. Nansen displaying even greater resource and ingenuity in finding parallels in the folk-lore of other lands. The argument from analogy is proverbially untrustworthy, but it is at the same time rather difficult to combat effectively where, as in the present case, it is impossible to set out the full number of alleged resemblances with which Dr. Nansen’s industry in research has provided him. Samples are open to the charge of unfair selection. I should doubt, for example, whether even Dr. Nansen himself, though he emphasizes the parallel with a marginal heading, can attach any real importance to such an instance as the following:

‘The great river that Brandan found in the Terra Repromissionis, and that ran through the middle of the island, may be compared to the stream that Karlsefni found at Hóp in Wineland, which fell into a lake and thence into the sea.... But the river which divided the Terra Repromissionis ... was evidently originally the river of death, Styx or Acheron in Greek mythology (Gjöll in Norse mythology). One might be tempted to suppose that, in the same way as the whole description of Wineland has been dechristianized from the Terra Repromissionis, the realistic, and therefore often rationalizing, Icelanders have transformed the river in the promised land, the ancient river of death, into the stream at Hóp.’[80]

A striking parallel to this parallel leaps at once to the mind of the irreverent. ‘There is a river in Macedon, and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth: it is called Wye at Monmouth; but it is out of my prains what is the name of the other river; but ’tis all one, ’tis so like as my fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both’ (Henry V, Act IV, sc. vii).

In so far as there were ‘salmons in both’, it must I think be conceded by the impartial reader that Fluellen’s analogy is more striking than Dr. Nansen’s.

Before considering further examples of the resemblances which Dr. Nansen has sought to establish, a few words may be said which are of general application to the whole. As in the instance above cited, Dr. Nansen’s analogies are practically all drawn from the mythical ‘imramha’ or voyages which form a definite class in early Irish literature. This class merges gradually at a later period into vision literature, where a vision of Paradise takes the place of a voyage into the wonderlands of the unseen world. But in its earlier form, with which Dr. Nansen is mainly concerned, the imramh took the form of a kind of Odyssey, in course of which the voyagers discovered many new and wonderful countries. It is manifest therefore that many elements must necessarily be present from which analogies with any voyage of discovery, however genuine, can be deduced. Unless, then, the similarities to be found are more striking than anything which can be explained from these necessary coincidences, we should, I submit, attach but little importance to them. We should remember also that the Icelander, however realistic or rational, is not likely to have been a discriminating borrower or to have rejected fabulous elements quite credible in a superstitious age. Thus we should expect, if extensive loans were taken from a literature exceptionally rich in the monstrous and marvellous, to find at any rate a good many definite instances where these characteristics have been retained without much alteration.

I have said that Irish literature was exceptionally rich in the monstrous and marvellous. This indeed is a characteristic insisted upon by Mr. W. B. Yeats in his admirable introduction to Lady Gregory’s Cuchulain of Muirthemne as the great distinction between Celtic and Scandinavian writings. ‘The Irish story-teller’, he says, ‘could not interest himself with an unbroken interest in the way men like himself burned a house or won wives no more wonderful than themselves. His mind constantly escaped out of daily circumstance, as a bough that has been held down by a weak hand suddenly straightens itself out. His imagination was always running off to Tir-nan-Oge, to the land of Promise, which is as near to the country-people of to-day as it was to Cuchulain and his companions.’ ‘Just so,’ says Dr. Nansen, ‘and therefore when the Icelander borrowed he rationalized.’ But had he the necessary critical discrimination to enable him to reject the fabulous? Was he so free from superstitious beliefs as to be able to discredit the mythical? By no means. Nothing is clearer than that he was highly superstitious, believing intensely in ghosts, and portents of all kinds: in fact, he believed in them so thoroughly that they almost ceased to be portentous from the matter-of-fact way in which he thought of them. For all he knew, the wildest flights of the Celtic imagination might be sober truth, and as truth he would have set them down if they had concerned him. But if they were no part of the story he was telling, they could be left out of it.

Now if we examine one of these Irish stories, we shall find the marvellous elements to be the very bones and sinews of the tale. Eliminate these and nothing is left which it would not be easy to parallel from the records of any voyage of discovery. There is nothing characteristic to which any resemblance can be traced, except these clearly mythical features. Take as an example the summary of Maelduin’s voyage given on p. 336 of the first volume of Dr. Nansen’s work. First we hear how ‘swarms of ants, as large as foals, came down to the beach and showed a desire to eat’ the crew and the boat.

‘This land’, says Dr. Nansen, ‘is the parallel to Helluland, where there were a number of Arctic foxes.’ Now there seems to me no reason why an Icelandic writer of the thirteenth century should have discredited the possibility of these Brobdingnagian ants. Yet he describes merely Arctic foxes, animals differing in every way about as widely from these ants as could well be imagined. They are not insects, they are not large, they are not dangerous or formidable. They are animals actually to be found in the northern parts of the American continent, and the locality where they are found is correctly described as a land of rocks, and not a beach at all. Is it credible that the one story, accurate in every particular, could have been derived by the exercise of any amount of imagination from the other? Set your children to rationalize Maelduin’s story, and see if you will get the ants turned to foxes in any single case.

Next we hear of ‘a great lofty island with terraces around it and rows of trees on which there were many large birds’. ‘This island’, says Dr. Nansen, ‘might correspond to the wooded Markland, with its many animals, where Karlsefni and his people killed a bear.’ Then where is the island, or where are the terraces, or the loftiness, or the birds, none of them features, one would have thought, which the most rationalistic need have hesitated to retain? We have, on the contrary, a low-lying land, apparently mainland, wooded indeed, but otherwise unlike in every single particular. Next we read of a sandy island, inhabited by a beast like a horse with dog’s paws and claws. Next a flat island with marks of horses’ hoofs as large as a ship’s sail, nutshells of marvellous size, and traces of human occupation. Next comes a lofty island with a great house sumptuously furnished, into which the waves of the sea threw salmon. Here Dr. Nansen might claim, with Fluellen, ‘salmons in both’, but this has not usually been regarded as a convincing analogy. Lastly we are told of an island encompassed by a great cliff with a single tree growing on it. A branch of this Maelduin caught, and held for three days while sailing by the island, at the end of which time there were three apples at the end of the branch. Not even grapes! I am not sure, in spite of some ambiguous phrases, that in quoting this long passage Dr. Nansen wishes to emphasize many similarities beyond the recurrence of a certain number of periods of three days. But the description is convenient for my purposes as affording a characteristic example of the type of legend from which it is suggested that most of the features of the saga were derived. And I ask myself in vain where is the slightest trace to be found of one story in the other, except that both are voyages of discovery?

Correspondence with actual Facts.

Or the case may be put thus: If the fauna and natural products described are merely the monstrosities of Celtic fiction taken with a grain of Icelandic salt, how comes it that they invariably correspond with the actual facts of the countries to which the earliest discoverers of America would most probably have come?

Indisputably this is the case until we come to Straumsfjord, though not much stress can be laid on the circumstance that descriptions so brief and general as those of Helluland and Markland happen to be accurate. The episode of the Irish runners appears indeed to have been inserted out of its proper order, and while not impossible may embody a distinct and less reliable tradition, and in the case of the whale incident the details given by Hauk may be rejected in favour of the simpler account given in the Flatey Book.

But there seems no good reason to doubt that a stranded whale did actually provide food for the explorers, or to regard, as Dr. Nansen does, this incident as borrowed from St. Brendan. The second song of Thorhall the Hunter, generally admitted to be a contemporary production, and anyhow the oldest part of the existing story, makes a plain reference to such an episode when it speaks of ‘boiling whales’. Whales moreover figure extensively in the legends collected from the Algonquins and Micmac Indians of Nova Scotia and New England by C. G. Leland, while Douglas, in his Summary of the planting of the British North American Settlements (1760), refers to whales setting in along shore by Cape Cod, and records that the back of Long Island, where small whales affect the flats, was the first place of the English whale-fishery. To eat whale-meat, even without the pressure of hunger, was quite natural for an Icelander, for Troil writes in his Letters on Iceland (1780), with special reference to the ‘reydur’, the name applied to the whale in question in the Flatey Book, ‘they are all considered very dainty food; and the Icelanders say that the flesh has the taste of beef.’ With regard to the whale incident, therefore—at any rate as recorded in the simpler version—it may be said, first, that it appears to be corroborated by contemporary allusion, secondly that it was perfectly consistent with the local natural history, and lastly that there was at any rate no need for an Icelander to go to Ireland for stories of whales being used as food. Dr. Nansen’s case accordingly breaks down in regard to the whale. The other salient feature mentioned in connexion with Straumsfjord is the bird-island. This Dr. Nansen dismisses as ‘evidently an entirely Northern feature, brought in to decorate the tale, and brought in so infelicitously that they are made to find all this mass of eggs in the autumn’. He further denies the existence of any breeding-grounds of importance even so far south as Nova Scotia. Now, in the first place, the statement that the eggs were gathered in the autumn is not the saga-writer’s but Dr. Nansen’s. The expedition left Greenland—according to Hauk—in spring, according to the companion text in summer. We may suppose therefore that the start was made not later than the beginning of May. No prolonged stay was made anywhere until Straumsfjord was reached.

Even therefore if we reject all the distances recorded, and assume a rate of sailing as low as one tylft a day, (75 miles, or little over three knots), it is manifest that wherever we place Straumsfjord the explorers would have arrived there before the end of the nesting-season. And though they stayed in this place for the winter, when they suffered from great scarcity, no mention is made of egg-collecting till the following spring, after the first record of the discovery, immediately upon their arrival in Straumsfjord.

Next, although the statement ‘a man’s feet could hardly come down between the eggs’ is at first sight startling, it is an easy task to find parallel passages among the later records of exploration in or about these latitudes.

For example, Charles Leigh (in Hakluyt’s Voyages) says of the Islands of Birds in the Gulf of St. Lawrence that they ‘are sandy red, but with the multitude of birds upon them they looke white. The birds sit there as thicke as stones lie in a paved street.’

The same locality is described in language almost equally striking by Jacques Cartier: ‘These Islands are as full of birds as a field is of grass, which nest within these islands.’

If Dr. Nansen objects that the islands here alluded to are not quite so far south as Nova Scotia, where he denies the existence of large breeding-places, we may refer him to Nicholas Denys, who writes of an island off this coast which has been identified with Sambro Island, near Halifax:

‘I was once there with a boat, at the time when the birds make their nests. We found so great an abundance of all the kinds I have named that all my crew and myself, having cut clubs for ourselves, killed so great a number, as well of young as of their fathers and mothers, which were very sluggish in rising from their nests, that we were unable to carry them all away. And aside from these the number of those which were spared and which rose into the air made a cloud so thick that the rays of the sun could scarcely penetrate through it.’

Or again take Champlain (islands near Cape Sable, Nova Scotia):

‘Thence we went to Cormorant island, a league distant, so called from the infinite number of cormorants found there, of whose eggs we collected a cask full.... At the two other islands there is such an abundance of birds of different sorts, that one could not imagine it, if he had not seen them.’

Lastly we may turn to more modern times and still more southerly latitudes, and refer to the ‘hundreds of thousands’ of breeding sea-birds observed on and about Muskegat Island as lately as 1870.[81] This after centuries of indiscriminate plunder by the hand of man may well lead us to accept as practically literal fact the birds’ nests of Straumsey, wherever we may feel disposed to locate this island. In any case it would appear rash to dismiss this detail as a purely northern feature, and still more far-fetched to trace, as Dr. Nansen does, a possible connexion between these eggs and the red and white ‘scaltae’ which covered the anchorite’s island in the legend of St. Brendan.[82]

Among the remaining descriptions of the fauna of Wineland there does not appear to be much calling for any comment. As to the halibut—or ‘holy fish’—taken in pits dug at the tide-mark, it seems to me most likely that the fish here alluded to was the American plaice or chicken halibut. Of these it is said in Goode’s American Fishes (p. 316): ‘Very shoal water seems to be particularly attractive, and they are often found at the water’s edge, embedded in the sand, with only their eyes in view.’ Cf. the tract New English Canaan:[83] ‘There are excellent plaice and easily taken. They (at flowing water) do almost come ashore, so that one may step but half a foot deep, and prick them up on the sands.’

In any case, all Dr. Nansen’s researches have failed to provide him with a mythical source for this feature.

We find, in short, wherever we look, in place of the wild absurdities of Irish legend, sober descriptions of places with their fauna and flora which are perfectly natural. What is more important, we do not find in these descriptions the sort of thing likely to occur to an Icelander or Greenlander, who was rationalizing a legend to make it fit the circumstances to which he was accustomed. Apart from the wine and corn, we have a temperate climate with woods and large trees, low shores and sandy beaches; except for the introduction of glaciers into Helluland in the Flatey Book, which may be an embroidery from local sources to emphasize the desolate character of the landscape, we trace a manifest attempt throughout to describe conditions, natural enough to us, but quite unlike anything characteristic of Iceland or Greenland. With regard to the vines in particular, one can see that the nature of these things was imperfectly understood by the saga-writers, so unlike were they to anything with which they were acquainted at home. The most conspicuous example of the description of something utterly foreign to Icelandic conceptions is, however, the account of the ‘Skrælings’ or savages. These, however, are so important an item in the consideration of the question that they must be allotted a chapter to themselves.

IV. SKRÆLINGS

There remains to be considered what is probably the most important feature of all, the information given in the sagas on the subject of the aborigines. In this connexion it is important to observe that at the time of the voyages themselves in all probability a savage tribe was a complete novelty to the Norsemen. The only possible exceptions were the Eskimo of Greenland, of whom probably something was known by the time that the Wineland sagas were reduced to writing. In so far, then, as the descriptions of the Skrælings of Wineland are realistic, and differ materially from anything which can have been derived from Eskimo sources, these descriptions form probably the most convincing proof of the historical accuracy of these stories. The inquiry at this point falls therefore under three heads: possible or probable Eskimo influences, any traces which may be found of legendary or mythical influences, and characteristics indisputably Indian.

Testimony of the Íslendíngabók.

Now first of all it must be stated that we have no evidence of any meeting between the Norsemen and the Eskimo of Greenland until after the time of Ari the Learned. And indeed we have some evidence that no such meeting had up to this time taken place, while it is clear that the existence of Skrælings in Wineland had at this date been reported. In a previous chapter (p. 95) I have drawn attention to Ari’s testimony on the point, but in view of Dr. Nansen’s comments upon it some further reference must now be made to these matters.

In Ari’s Íslendíngabók, in the passage relating to the colonization of Greenland (see Appendix and cf. p. 95), it is stated that dwellings and fragments of canoes had been discovered. And the writer goes on explicitly: ‘and stone smith-work (weapons) such that from it (steinsmíði þat, es af því) one may understand that there that kind of folk had passed (farit) who have settled in (bygt) Wineland, and the Greenlanders call Skrælings.’ One could hardly have a clearer statement that the deduction as to the former presence of this people in Greenland was based on such traces as are here mentioned, and on nothing else. It seems prima facie most improbable that such guarded terms should be used if the Greenlanders had at this time actually met the Eskimo, and thus provided themselves with a much more conclusive proof of their existence. Moreover we have, besides the express terms used by Ari, the apparently intentional contrast to which I have alluded elsewhere between the transitory and past movement of the Eskimo through the one country (farit) and the permanent residence of the savages in Wineland (bygt). And it would seem a legitimate and almost irresistible inference to draw from this passage that accounts of savages with canoes and stone weapons (cf. the ‘hellustein’ which slew Thorbrand Snorrison in Wineland) were forthcoming at a time when the Norsemen had no other source but America from which the existence of such things could be known to them. Dr. Nansen however concludes that Ari’s silence as to the Eskimo themselves was due to the fact that ‘they were supernatural beings of whom it was best to say nothing’.[84] It is rather difficult to see, if this were so, why Ari should have felt himself at liberty to mention the existence of these people in Wineland any more than in Greenland, or why he should have thought it any better to speak of the inferred existence of the Eskimo than to record their actual occurrence. Further, we may fairly demand where it is that Dr. Nansen finds in Icelandic literature any reluctance to mention supernatural beings, where these are believed to have existed. Altogether it appears to me an understatement of the case to say that no meeting between the Norsemen and the Eskimo prior to the date of the Íslendíngabók seems at all probable.

Dr. Nansen, however, writes (vol. ii, p. 77): ‘I am unable to read Ari’s meaning in this way. He uses the present tense: “calla”, and what one “calls Skrælings” must presumably be a people one knows, and not one that one’s ancestors had met with more than a hundred years ago.’ On this line of reasoning, if I speak of ‘the man whom Carlyle calls the Sea-Green Incorruptible’, I mean to imply that Robespierre and Carlyle were contemporaries. Dr. Nansen further refers (loc. cit.) to the parallel passage in Ari, mentioning the Irish monks in Iceland ‘whom the Norwegians call (calla) Papar’.[85] ‘From these words’, he says, ‘it might be concluded, with as much justification as from the statement about the traces of Skrælings, that the newcomers did not come in contact with the earlier people; but in the latter case this is incredible, and moreover conflicts with Ari’s own words.’ Let us examine this statement. In the first place it is clear from Ari’s statement, ‘they went away afterwards’, that none were left at the time of writing, yet he still says, in conformity with normal grammatical usage, that the Norsemen ‘call’, i.e. speak of, them as Papar. It is obvious, therefore, from the very passage to which Dr. Nansen appeals, that the use of the present tense does not denote the contemporary presence of the Irish monks, and it need not therefore indicate in the other passage the presence of any Skrælings in Ari’s time in the Greenland colony.

In the second place, whereas in the Skræling passage Ari only mentions traces from which their former presence could be inferred, he begins his reference to the ‘Papar’ with the words, ‘There were then Christians here, those whom the Norsemen call “Papar”, but they went away afterwards ... and left behind’, &c. This passage therefore cannot be taken as affording any support to Dr. Nansen’s construction of the statement about the Skrælings.

In another place (vol. ii, p. 16) Dr. Nansen suggests that the mention of traces of Skræling occupation without recording a meeting with the men themselves has an uncanny significance, suggesting that the Skrælings are treated as trolls. It seems more natural on the whole to construe the passage as meaning what it says—that the traces were there but not the men.

While on this subject I may as well refer to an inaccuracy which appears in the note on page 77 of Dr. Nansen’s second volume. He says there, ‘If it was the tradition of Karlsevne’s encounter with the Skrælings that was referred to, then of course neither he nor the greater part of his men were Greenlanders, but Icelanders, so that it might equally well have been said that the Icelanders called them Skrælings.’ This is in direct conflict with the statement in the Saga of Eric the Red, ‘ok váru þar flestir Grœnlendskir menn á’—‘and the majority of those there on (the expedition) were Greenlanders.’ Of course the real reason why Ari says ‘the Greenlanders call them Skrælings’ is that he is here citing, as he tells us, a Greenland source, viz. the information obtained by his uncle, Thorkel Gellison, in Greenland. The argument, therefore, in Dr. Nansen’s note, like that of the text, falls to the ground.

The Skræling Canoes.

Conceding, however, that some knowledge of the Eskimo may have prevailed at the time when our sagas assumed their present form, though the ‘King’s Mirror’, composed about the middle of the thirteenth century, says nothing of these people in its detailed description of Greenland, the question next arises as to how far the writers can have been indebted to such knowledge for their realistic descriptions of the Wineland savages. These Skrælings, as they are called, make their first appearance in the story during the exploration of Thorvald, as narrated in the Flatey Book. We are told how three canoes of skin (húðkeipar) were observed, with three men sleeping beneath each. These canoes appear to have been so portable that one man, the only survivor of the ensuing slaughter, was enabled to escape with one. Now here at first sight we have an Eskimo characteristic, in the fact that the canoes are said to have been of skin. And indeed it may well be that the word used is simply the Greenlanders name for a kayak. This, however, is not certain, for it would need a close inspection of an Indian canoe, with its sewn ‘skin’ of birch-bark, to enable a people unfamiliar with the use of this material in boat-building to distinguish between such a covering and a hide. I prefer not to lay stress, as some have done, on the fact that some Indian tribes used skin coverings for their canoes, for the natives of the latitudes with which we are concerned are represented in the earliest authorities as using birch-bark. Turning, however, from the name used to the thing described, it is quite clear that we here have neither kayaks nor umiaks, but Indian canoes. Three men could not possibly sleep under a kayak, which is a narrow craft covered in at all points but one, like a Rob Roy canoe or a racing outrigger. Nor could one man carry off an umiak, which is a large and clumsy boat, usually manned (if this is not a bull) by women. Both these forms of Eskimo boat were observed and accurately described in the contemporary account of Frobisher’s second voyage (1577), given in Hakluyt,—‘The greater sort—wherein sixteen or twenty men may sit:—the other boat is but for one man to sit and row in with one oar;’ and doubtless at a much earlier time the Eskimo constructed their kayaks and umiaks in practically the same manner as at the present day. But an Indian canoe exactly and completely fulfils the conditions required in both respects. It is exceedingly light and portable, yet it may be, and frequently is, used as a shelter for its occupants. On this last point one may compare the observation of Jacques Cartier with regard to a tribe of Indians met with in the course of his explorations. ‘They have no other dwelling but their boats, which they turn upside down, and under them they lay themselves all along upon the bare ground.’ (Hakluyt’s translation.) Here, then, we have a feature which, with the possible exception of the word used for canoe, can only have been drawn from an actual meeting with the North American Indians, and of which the historical accuracy is indisputable.

The Skræling Food.

Another small point accurately observed and almost certainly pointing to direct contact with the American Indians is to be found in the passage relating to the sleeping Skrælings discovered and slain by Karlsefni’s expedition. They had, we are told, cases containing animal marrow mixed with blood, a description which seems to refer to something in the nature of pemmican, or the ‘moose-butter’ of which Denys speaks in his work on Nova Scotia, and Father Leclercq in his Relation of Gaspesia. This was a cake of hard grease extracted from the bones of the moose, and Denys tells us that ‘it was this which they (the Indians) used as their entire provision for living when they went hunting’.

Personal Appearance.

In the description of the personal appearance of the Skrælings there is little that is decisive, but much that is circumstantial. One of the two companion texts describes them as ‘swarthy’, the other as ‘small’. ‘Small’ sounds more like Eskimo than Indian, and may be a corruption of the original text based on knowledge derived from Greenland. Ugliness, unkempt hair, and broad cheeks would apply to many Indian tribes, e.g. Micmacs, as well as to Eskimo. Large eyes would seem at first sight to apply to neither, and Dr. Nansen therefore considers it to be a trait showing the introduction of troll ideas. Yet the eyes of Indians have struck many genuine observers as large; for example, Lescarbot tells us that these features ‘neantmoins ne sont petits, comme ceux des anciens Scythes, mais d’une grandeur bien agréable’. Carver, again (1779), says of the Indians, ‘their eyes are large and black.’ Verezzano likewise speaks of ‘large black eyes and a fixed expression’. Another characteristic claimed by Nansen as evidence of the influence of the troll-idea is the beard which we are told was possessed by one of the Skrælings discovered in Markland: but this strikes me as telling rather the other way, for all trolls are bearded, and the Norsemen were so commonly so as to be known to the Greenland Eskimo as ‘Long-beards’. The point therefore appears to have been recorded precisely because of its rarity among the Skrælings, and, while Indians for the most part take care to remove all hair from the face and body, the possibility of beards among this people is recognized by almost all writers on the subject (cf. Lescarbot, Schoolcraft, Carter, Catlin, &c.). It may be admitted, however, that the personal appearance of the Skrælings is not a point from which any very clear inference can be drawn either one way or the other.

The Waving Staves.

The savages whose appearance is described in these ambiguous terms made their appearance in canoes on board of which—we are told—certain objects were waved with a noise like threshing. The word used of these objects is variously written ‘trjánum’, ‘trjom’, and ‘trjónum’. It has been usually translated ‘staves’ or ‘poles’, but if ‘trjónum’ be the correct reading it would seem doubtful whether something more in the nature of a totem-mask or movable figure-head is not indicated. For ‘trjóna’ means primarily a snout, and then a detachable figure-head; cf. the interesting passage in Landnáma (IV. 7) referring to an old law whereby men were enjoined to remove their figure-heads before approaching Iceland, ‘and not to sail to land with gaping heads or open-mouthed snouts (trjónum) which might disturb the local spirits’. It might on the one hand be argued that figure-heads are things more intimately connected with the idea of boats than staves are, but for that very reason a copyist would be more likely to convert ‘trjánum’ into ‘trjónum’ in the passage under consideration than to err in the opposite direction.

Accepting the meaning ‘staves’ or ‘poles’, a recent writer[86] regards this as proof that the description is drawn from Eskimo, and Dr. Nansen makes a similar suggestion. To Mr. Gosling it is ‘evident that this is an attempt to describe the motion of the double-bladed paddle used by the Eskimos, and it will be seen that an Eskimo, sitting in his kayak, facing the direction towards which he is paddling, when going east or north, will appear to wave his paddle contrary to the motion of the sun in the heavens, but with it when travelling west or south’. I must confess that this attempt at an explanation is very far from satisfying me. In the first place it seems to me most unlikely, that the Norsemen could observe a large number of kayaks on three separate occasions without understanding that the waving paddle was merely the means of propulsion. In the next place, though nothing explicit is stated as to the direction from which the first visitors arrived, the second and third visits, one peaceable and the other hostile—one therefore in which the staves moved with the sun and the other in which they moved against it—both came ‘from the south’, so that the movement of the paddles would be the same in both cases. Again, a kayak paddle, having a blade at each end, does not move continuously in one direction, but from side to side, while, viewed broadside, the motion is that of a stave rotated forward.

Finally, though perhaps of less importance, it may be pointed out that on one occasion the language used seems to imply more than one ‘trjóna’ to each boat (var veift á hverju skipi trjánum). Having regard to the prevalence in America, as in most other countries, of the ceremonial use of solar and contra-solar motion (cf. Brinton’s Myths of the New World), it seems to me a more probable explanation that we have here a genuine and interesting use of a sign correctly interpreted by the Norsemen, which further research into Indian customs and superstitions might succeed in elucidating. For my part, I am inclined to think that the ‘trjóna’ was a rattle-stick, such as is used by many Indian tribes. No other explanation hitherto suggested takes into account the ‘noise like threshing’ which is a circumstantial part of the description. Rattles, being normally an accompaniment to dancing, would be likely to be swung with or against the sun according to the significance of the ceremony of which they were a part.

With regard to the white and red shields used as answering signals by the Norsemen, of course there is no need to suppose that the Skrælings understood them, as Dr. Nansen does, observing that these features ‘have an altogether European effect’. Yet by a curious coincidence such signs would in fact have probably been intelligible to American Indians, for it is stated in Wood’s Natural History of Man that, ‘As among us, white and red are the signs of peace and war, and each leader carries with him two small flags, one of white bison’s hide and the other of reddened leather.’ But we may be content to observe that the Norsemen would be likely to make their customary attempts at signalling regardless of the fact that their efforts might be unintelligible.[87]

Trading and Fighting.

The fur-trading of the savages will recall to any student of the history of exploration numerous parallels in the writing of Jacques Cartier and others. In particular one may claim as a genuine Indian characteristic the eager acquisition of red cloth to bind round the head. Numerous parallels to this may be found in the records of later explorers; in particular one may cite, from Juet’s description of Hudson’s third voyage (ed. Hakluyt Society, p. 60), what reads almost like a free translation of the saga: ‘They brought many beaver skinnes and other fine furres, which they would have changed for redde gownes.’

It does not appear likely that the seal-clad Eskimo of Greenland, who seem to have kept out of the way of the Norsemen as much as possible, could have contributed such a feature to the story. Even more certainly authentic is the account of the fights with the natives. Eskimo, as Dr. Nansen points out, were unused to war in Greenland, where indeed they had no other nation to fight, while of course warfare has always been a normal part of the Indian’s existence. (It must be conceded, however, that Frobisher found the American Eskimo distinctly warlike and pugnacious.) It is clear that the Skrælings were formidable antagonists, since it was the fear of them which ultimately drove Karlsefni to withdraw from the country. Of their weapons only one seems to call for comment, the large ball, resembling a sheep’s paunch and dark in colour, which was slung from a pole towards Karlsefni’s force, making a terrible noise where it came down. Dr. Nansen has sought to parallel this incident from a number of disconnected sources, ranging from the use of catapults and even gunpowder in European warfare to the fiery mass thrown with tongs at St. Brendan’s ship by the inhabitants of the Smith’s Island, and a similar incident in Mælduin’s voyage, and through these last to the Cyclops in the Odyssey.[88] In all these suggested sources, however, the differences seem quite as striking as the resemblances. The pole is absent, the resemblance to a sheep’s paunch seems remote, the missile in the case under consideration appears to have been neither fiery nor explosive, and altogether it is difficult to see that the incidents cited have more in common than the presence of a large and in some cases noisy missile. Bearing this in mind, let us see whether a resemblance far more striking is not to be found in a passage which Dr. Nansen passes by with a half-contemptuous footnote. The passage in question, which is to be found in Schoolcraft’s Indian Tribes of the United States, vol. i, p. 85, appears to me of sufficient importance to be quoted in full.

‘Algonquin tradition affirms that in ancient times, during the fierce wars which the Indians carried on, they constructed a very formidable instrument of attack, by sewing up a large boulder in a new skin. To this a long handle was tied. When the skin dried it became very tight round the stone, and after being painted with devices assumed the appearance and character of a solid globe upon a pole. This formidable instrument, to which the name of ‘balista’ may be applied, is figured (Plate 15, fig. 2) from the description of an Algonquin chief. It was borne by several warriors who acted as balisteers. Plunged upon a boat or canoe it was capable of sinking it. Brought down among a group of men on a sudden it produced consternation and death.’

With all deference to Dr. Nansen, who regards the resemblance as ‘distant’, it seems to me that here we have the very thing described. We have first of all a weapon which Schoolcraft thinks of as a ‘balista’, and one which therefore could easily give rise to the statement that the Skrælings had ‘valslöngur’, i.e. war-slings or catapults. We have the pole on which it was raised, we have several men to sling it, we have in particular the resemblance to a sheep’s paunch accounted for by the fact that it was covered with a stretched skin. In fact, to reject an explanation of this passage, which fits every single fact recorded, in favour of a suggested resemblance to an explosive because it made a noise when falling, or to fiery masses hurled at a ship because these, too, are large missiles, seems to me to border on perversity. But the reader will judge for himself whether it is necessary to impute to the saga writer here any borrowing from mythical sources, or whether the description of this weapon is not in itself a very strong instance of the substantial historical accuracy of the story.

Mr. Babcock, indeed,[89] seems to me to have been unnecessarily puzzled by this weapon. He seems to regard the thing described by Schoolcraft as a ‘club’, whereas that author, by conferring on the implement the name ‘balista’, distinctly suggests that the stone was discharged as a missile. He also searches, not very conclusively, for evidence that the Indians in these latitudes used slings; but it is pretty clear that the remark about ‘valslöngur’ (war-slings) has reference exclusively to this weapon, the description of which immediately follows. So at any rate I read the passage (q. v., page 62).

Of the Skrælings, then, who are said to have been seen in Wineland, we may say that the description contains practically no statement which might not be truly made of American Indians. It contains, moreover, points, such as the canoes under which three men slept and the balista above referred to, which can hardly be due to any other source but direct observation of the American natives. Possibly derived from a knowledge of the Greenland Eskimo comes the word ‘húðkeipur’, used for a canoe, and, as some have thought, the incident of the waving poles on the boats, though the latter strikes me as a quite unjustifiable inference. The description of the personal appearance of the natives will suit either Eskimo or Indian. On the whole, however, we may say with confidence that we have here a description of savages so realistic as to point to direct and careful observation. In support of Dr. Nansen’s claim that the tale is mainly a potpourri of borrowed folklore we have really nothing but the double who appeared to Gudrid in the Flatey Book version, the belated warning of the Skræling attack which came to Thorvald, and the uniped which in one version is said to have caused the death of this son of Eric the Red. Of these three incidents two are typically Scandinavian and no more than we must expect in the reports of an unscientific age. Did not even Hudson have his mermaid? The uniped incident shows traces of importation from some separate and later legend, e.g. the dying speech of Thorvald is clearly plagiarized from that of Thormod Kolbrunarskald at Stiklestad. And the story, as I have endeavoured to show, can quite well do without it. When these fabulous elements are admitted we may still ask in vain for a single clear instance of the adoption or adaptation of Celtic legend with its continuous insistence on the supernatural; of the source, that is, which Dr. Nansen claims as the chief contributor to the saga as we have it.

The Markland Skrælings.

There remains to be considered the episode of the savages captured in Markland on the return voyage. With the circumstance that one of the Skrælings captured on this occasion is said to have been bearded I have dealt already. The statement that those who escaped disappeared into the ground appears to me to mean no more than that, like good stalkers, they contrived to take cover and creep away unseen. There is therefore no clearer evidence of legendary influence in this case than in the rest of the story. The rest of what is reported is hearsay derived from the captives themselves, after they had—possibly not very effectually—been taught to speak Icelandic. I therefore agree with Dr. Nansen that it is hopeless to attempt, as some have done (notably Mr. Thalbitzer, 1905 and 1913), to trace the nationality of these savages from the words preserved, Vætilldi, Uvægi, Avalldamon, Valldidida.[90] The explorers of a later age were not very happy in their transliteration of native words, and we cannot imagine that these names were handed down through a period of oral transmission without a fatal amount of transformation. That the rest of what is reported is inaccurate in most particulars is no more than we should expect under the circumstances.

Hvítramannaland.

One statement, however, in this passage, to which most commentators have devoted an abnormal amount of attention, merely purports to be a conjecture on the part of those who heard the story, and does not involve any necessary inaccuracy in the reported utterance of the captives. I refer to the allusion to Hvítramannaland (White Man’s Country) or Ireland the Great. The existence or non-existence of such a place as this, while it has exercised the ingenuity of almost all writers on the present subject, has really nothing to do with the authenticity of the Wineland stories. All that appears from the passage is that certain persons, on hearing an account of an adjacent land supposed to have been described by these Skræling children, jumped to the conclusion that Hvítramannaland was the place described, and the non-existence of such a country would merely prove that these persons were wrong in their conjecture, not that the story itself was unworthy of credence. What the savages may have been struggling to explain I will suggest later. Here, the point having been made that it is quite irrelevant, it may be interesting to follow the allusion a little farther.

What was apparently in the minds of those who made the conjecture referred to was a passage in Landnáma (i. 22) which tells how one Ari Marsson was driven by storms to ‘Hvítramannaland, which some call Ireland the Great; it lies westward in the ocean near Wineland the Good: it is called six days’ (dægra) sail west from Ireland: Ari did not succeed in getting away from thence, and he was baptized there. This story was first told by Rafn the Limerick-farer, who had been long at Limerick in Ireland. Thorkel Gellison (uncle of Ari the Learned) stated that Icelanders say, who had heard it from (Earl) Thorfin in the Orkneys, that Ari had been recognized in Hvítramannaland, and did not succeed in getting away from it, but was held in great honour there.’

In the Eyrbyggja Saga a similar story is told, though the name of the strange country is omitted, of one Björn Asbrandsson, who was cast in the same way upon a land to the south-west of Ireland, where he was subsequently recognized by an Icelander named Gudleif Gudlaugson. This story does not appear to me sufficiently relevant to the subject in hand to warrant more detailed notice, though the curious will find ample mention of it in other works on the Wineland question.

Apart from the irrelevance of these stories, those familiar with the laws of evidence will doubtless agree that lands where a hero is said to have made his final disappearance, reported as they must necessarily be on hearsay testimony, are on a very different footing from countries whose explorers returned to describe them in person. The only value—either one way or the other—of this passage from Landnáma lies in the mention of Wineland the Good as a place known and acknowledged to exist at a period long antecedent to the date of any extant manuscript of these voyages. The proximity of Hvítramannaland to Wineland is presumably a conjecture by the authors of Landnáma, who would naturally tend to connect with one another any unknown lands reported in a westerly direction. It seems to me highly improbable that Wineland found any mention in the original story told by Rafn from Limerick. At any rate, no one can be justified in basing an argument on the assumption that it did, as does Dr. Nansen,[91] when he says, in support of his argument that the Celtic imagination has played a large part in corrupting the traditions of Wineland, ‘Ravn must have heard of both Hvítramannaland and Wineland in Ireland, since otherwise he could not have known that one lay near the other.’

Anyhow, if Hvítramannaland was but six ‘dægra’ sail from Ireland it cannot really have been anywhere near Wineland, assuming the latter to be in America. If we follow the Eyrbyggja Saga in placing it to the south-west rather than the west of Ireland the distance is more suggestive of the Azores. Storm, however, is of opinion that the stories of Ari Marsson and Björn Asbrandsson are a perversion of Irish legends of the Christian occupation of Iceland, which a knowledge of the position and characteristics of that island had shifted to a different locality, retaining the distance (six ‘dægra’ sail) which, in the form ‘sex dierum navigatione’, is recorded by Pliny and adopted by Bede and Dicuil with reference to Thule. There seems much to be said for such a view, particularly as ‘Ireland the Great’ seems intended to convey the idea of an Irish colony (cf. Magna Græcia, &c.), and, if so, Hvítramannaland must be regarded as a mythical region.

It by no means follows, however, that the statements attributed to the captive Skrælings must be placed in the same category. Whatever these statements may have conveyed to a Scandinavian audience, either contemporary or subsequent, there seems no reason for us to read into the description a procession of Christian priests, as so many commentators seem to have agreed in doing.

Of course such statements as these, even when the captives had been ‘taught speech’, would be very liable to misinterpretation. It is not difficult, among the well-authenticated voyages of a later period, to find instances of native reports which were understood to convey notions the possibility of which must have originated in the mind of the questioner. Thus we find in the explorations of Jacques Cartier such passages as the following: ‘Donnacona had told us that he had been in the country of Saguenay, in which are infinite Rubies, Gold, and other riches, and that there are white men, who clothe themselves with woollen cloth, even as we do in France.’ Misunderstanding of answers to questions based on preconceived ideas may thus account for much, but, farther than this, accounts in themselves accurate may easily become coloured by a false association of ideas as the tradition passes from mouth to mouth. Thus in the present case it may well be that those who gave us the saga in its present form understood the statements of the Skrælings to imply the existence of some such Christian community as later commentators have imagined. But the statements themselves are capable of an explanation more consonant with fact. The dressed deerskin of the Indians, before being treated with smoke, is as white as a kid glove, and robes of this unsmoked material are not uncommon, particularly if intended for ceremonial use. I have myself seen coats of the Indians of Labrador decorated with a few unimportant lines and patterns in red paint which would have led me to say with perfect truthfulness of the wearer that he ‘wore white clothes’. As for the ‘uttering of loud cries’, this is a trait far more easily reconciled with the idea of an Indian than a Christian ceremony. What is described as an ‘Indian Flag’, adorned it is true with feathers in place of bunting, is figured in Schoolcraft’s book at Plate 13 of vol. iii, and it is difficult to think how else any one could describe it, while other instances of poles and flags will occur to the reader of almost any work on the North American Indians.

On the whole there seems no very violent improbability in thinking that some Indian ceremony on the mainland might be referred to in some such language as is here attributed to the Skræling prisoners.

It will be convenient, before closing this chapter, to sum up the conclusions at which we have arrived.

1. At the time when savages, using stone implements and canoes, had been described and reported in Iceland, no meeting with the Greenland Eskimo had taken place.

2. There was at the time no other source from which descriptions of savages could be realistically drawn, unless the Norsemen had found them in America.

3. The description of the personal appearance of the Skrælings is neutral—it will suit either Indian or Eskimo very well; it is manifestly an accurate picture of some sort of savage.

4. The canoes described resemble Indian canoes, except for the name (húdkeipar), ‘skin-canoes’. This point, however, can be explained, either by supposing a natural misconception as to the material used, or by taking the word employed to be that which the kayaks of Eskimo in Greenland, by the time the sagas were written, had brought into use as the natural word for any form of canoe.

5. The trading with furs for red cloth, the beast’s marrow mixed with blood, the sleeping under canoes, the yelling and fighting, are markedly Indian characteristics.

6. An Indian weapon in use in former times has been independently described by Schoolcraft, which exactly resembles something described in the saga.

7. The people described display terror at unfamiliar sights and sounds, e.g. a domesticated bull; they are unacquainted with civilized weapons; they are unsophisticated but vindictive. All these are genuine savage characteristics, some of them specially appropriate to Indians.

8. The waving poles cannot be satisfactorily explained as kayak paddles, and any attempt made to identify the words ascribed to the Skræling captives as Eskimo, after they had been transcribed by several generations of copyists, must necessarily be very inconclusive.

9. The ‘Hvítramannaland’ passage can be interpreted in a sense consistent with Indian customs, though any alleged statements by the savages must be regarded as most untrustworthy and extremely liable to misinterpretation.

10. The descriptions are accurate and life-like, and show no clear traces of features borrowed from Celtic or other romantic sources. On the whole, then, we may assert confidently that the sagas contain accurate descriptions of American Indians, and that these, made at a time when savages were otherwise unknown to the Norsemen, constitute an unimpeachable confirmation of the essential historic accuracy of the story.

V. THE ‘DÆGR’ AND ‘EYKTARSTAD’ QUESTIONS

Before passing on to examine the voyages themselves, with a view to identifying so far as possible the territory explored, it is advisable to clear the way by the discussion of two questions, the first of which provides by its solution an approximate standard for the measurement of certain distances recorded, while the second provides a rough northerly limit to the possible situation of Wineland. The two questions are not in any way connected, except as being preliminaries to any trustworthy inquiry: as such they may conveniently be dealt with in one chapter, which may be skipped by the unscientifically inclined.

‘Dægr sigling’.

In the early days with which the present volume is concerned, the only method of measuring distances at sea was necessarily by time. No astronomical observations capable of giving results even approximately exact can then have been understood, and it is a curious fact in the history of navigation that even the simplest form of log for calculating the rate of progress was not introduced until comparatively modern times. The most natural method of measuring nautical distances in these circumstances would be by means of units corresponding to the usual divisions of time. We should therefore expect to find one unit representing an hour’s sail, another representing a voyage of twelve hours, and for use over long tracts of open sea possibly a unit based on the average progress during a period of twenty-four hours.

Now the standards of nautical measurement found actually to have been used by the Icelanders are primarily two—the ‘vika’, and the ‘tylft’ or dozen, which, as its name implies, represented twelve of the first-named units. It will be found useful for the present inquiry to establish first of all, with as much certainty as possible, the distances represented by the ‘vika’ and the ‘tylft’.

In a fifteenth-century manuscript incorporated in the collection of scientific treatises known as Rímbegla the following passage is to be found (p. 482): ‘Between Bergen and Nidaros (Trondhjem) there are about four degrees, so one degree comes to about a nautical “tylft”.’ Pausing here, we may observe that the voyage from Bergen to Trondhjem was evidently recognized to be four nautical ‘tylfts’. The passage continues: ‘now a degree on land and a “tylft” at sea are equal, and there are two “tylfts” in a day’s (dægur) sailing.’ To the expression used for a day’s sailing attention will have to be directed later on, but for the present it may be allowed to stand in the non-controversial form into which it is translated above. Taken as an accurate statement of the case, this quotation from Rímbegla has given us the following table:

1 vika | = 5 nautical miles.
1 tylft | = 1 degree (60 nautical miles).
2 tylfts | = 1 day’s sail (120 nautical miles).

Now if a day’s sail be taken here as equivalent to twenty-four hours, we have precisely the divisions of distance which, as I said at the outset, we ought to expect where the measurement is effected by time. A ‘vika’ represents an hour’s run, a ‘tylft’ twelve hours, and a day’s sail twenty-four hours. Whether, the geographical distances which they are alleged to represent have been correctly stated is another matter, into which we may now look a little more closely.

It is evident that the assumed correspondence between a ‘tylft’ and a degree, which, having regard to the state of navigation in the saga period, must in any case have been accidental, rests upon the hypothesis that the length of a voyage from Bergen to Trondhjem is four degrees or 240 nautical miles. The difference of latitude between the two places is in fact little more than three degrees, and even the rhumb-line connecting Bergen and Trondhjem is not 240 nautical miles in length; this error, however, need not necessarily have any effect on the author’s calculation. But on working out the shortest distance covered by a ship sailing from the one place to the other, it is apparent that in calling this distance four degrees a serious under-statement is made which vitiates the conclusion arrived at. This distance as sailed at the present day is said to be 318 nautical miles, and calculation or inspection of a chart will show that it is impossible to bring it much below 300, so that if this represents four ‘tylfts’, calculated by time, as it probably did, our table must be revised as follows:

1 vika | = 6·25 miles.
1 tylft | = 75 miles.
1 day’s sail | = 150 miles.

This estimate is corroborated to some extent by the scale of Icelandic sea-miles (vikur) given in Troil’s Letters on Iceland (1780), where they are represented as nine to a degree or equal to 6⅔ miles each. Exact correspondence is of course not to be expected in standards of measurement arrived at by so rough a method as the time occupied on an average voyage.

Another ‘tylft’ capable of measurement is that given in the Greenland sailing directions attributed to Ivar Bardson. Here the distance so described is that between Reykjanes (lat. 63° 24′ N., long. 22° 40′ W.) and Snæfellsnes (lat. 64° 55′ 30″ N., long. 23° 59′ 40″ W.). Calculation gives the length of a rhumb-line between the two points as 73.54 miles, according to which a ‘vika’ would be about 6.12 miles, which once more justifies the assumption that something over six rather than five miles must be the correct measurement of this unit.

If the line of reasoning has been correct so far, it follows that the average rate of speed on an Icelandic voyage under favourable conditions would be something over six knots. The next thing to ascertain is the highest speed possible under exceptionally favourable circumstances. Fortunately this point is also capable of determination. It is unnecessary, and probably misleading, to enter, as Mr. Babcock does, into calculations based on the speed of modern ships. In the saga of Olaf the Saint (see this saga in Heimskringla, §125), one Thorar Nefjolfson accomplished what was evidently regarded as a remarkable feat by sailing from Norway (Moeri) to Eyrarbakki in Iceland in the space of four days and four nights. There is in this case no ambiguity about the meaning of eight ‘dægra’, the period recorded, for Thorar himself refers to the fact that four nights previously he was with the King in Norway. The starting-point may safely be taken as Stad, which lay in the Söndmöre district, since we know from other sources that it was the usual place of departure for Iceland, as indeed its geographical position at the extremity of the westerly trend of the coast-line from Trondhjem would render inherently probable. The geographical position of Stad is 62° 11′ N., 5° 8′ E. The distance to Eyrarbakki (63° 51′ 45″ N., 21° 7′ W.) round the most southern point of Iceland (63° 23′ 45″ N., 19° 5′ 5″ W.) comes in round figures to about 730 nautical miles. This would represent a rate of about 7·6 knots, and though this is probably too little, as the course can hardly have been so direct and we know neither the precise place of departure nor the exact times of start and finish, we shall be safe in assuming that anything appreciably over eight knots was beyond the extreme powers of an Icelandic vessel.

According to our calculations, then, the average distance covered in twelve hours with a fair breeze would be about seventy-five miles, and having obtained these important data we may now proceed to consider more particularly the unit of distance uniformly employed in the story of Wineland, namely the ‘dægr sigling’ or day’s sail.

In its strictly scientific signification there can be no doubt that a ‘dægr’ is a period of twelve hours. The Rímbegla (not the treatise already cited, but another incorporated in the same collection) is explicit upon the point. ‘In a day there are two “dægra”, in a “dægr” twelve hours’ (p. 6). In nautical phraseology, in which the word most commonly occurs, it cannot be denied that it is sometimes used with the same meaning. The passage already quoted, recording the voyage of Thorar Nefjolfson, is a case in point. On the other hand, the statement of the Rímbegla treatise already cited, that there are ‘two tylfts in a “dægur” sailing’, must clearly be interpreted as meaning twenty-four hours, since even 120 nautical miles could not be covered in twelve hours at what we have found to be the extreme speed of an Icelandic sailing ship, and we should always hesitate to assume the identity of local or technical usage with accurate scientific terminology.

One might, for example, be led seriously astray by taking the length of a mile from a geographical textbook and applying it under all circumstances to any distance called by the same name.

The author of the last-mentioned passage in the Rímbegla seems indeed to use ‘dægr’ and ‘dag’ interchangeably, for he goes on to say that ninety degrees of the earth’s circumference would take forty-five ‘dag siglingar’, and the complete circumnavigation of the globe would occupy 180 ‘dag siglingar’. If this passage stood alone it would doubtless be possible to explain the first ‘dægr’ as a mere verbal slip; it is accordingly necessary to examine the matter from a different standpoint, and to investigate the distances said to be covered by a given number of ‘dægra sigling’.

A convenient passage for this purpose occurs in Landnáma I, 1. The writer is evidently endeavouring to fix the position of Iceland by reference to well-known points on all sides of it. With this object he makes the following statement:

‘Wise men say that from Norway from Stad it is seven “dægra” sail west to Horn on the east of Iceland; but from Snaefellsnes where the distance is shortest, there are four “dægra” of sea to Hvarf in Greenland[92].... From Reykjanes in the south of Iceland there are five “dægra” of sea to Jolduhlaup in Ireland, to the south, while from Langanes in the north of Iceland there are four “dægra” of sea to Svalbarda in the Polar Sea (Hafsbotn) and it is a “dægr” sail to the uninhabited parts of Greenland from Kolbein’s island (Mevenklint) north.’

Let us examine these statements seriatim.

Horn in the east of Iceland may either mean the modern Cape Horn, the most easterly point of the country, or more probably East Horn a little further to the south-west. My reason for preferring the latter place is that it appears to have been the most easterly Horn known as such to the authors of Landnáma. It is referred to shortly afterwards in describing the discovery of the land by Gardar, and was evidently not the most easterly point of the country, for Gardar is said to have arrived to the east of it. The position of the most easterly part of Cape Horn is 65° 5′ N., 13° 27′ 45″ W.; that of East Horn is 64° 20′ N., 14° 25′ W. The distances from Stad to these two places respectively are 524·67 and 543·46 miles. In this case, therefore, it is clear that seven periods of twelve hours are meant, and the distance covered in each ‘dægr’ corresponds closely with the average ‘tylft’ at which we have already arrived, being from 74·9 to 77½ miles according to the objective chosen. It is clear from this that we are here dealing with averages, and not, as Storm suggests, with records, for the rate is but 6·4 knots at the outside, which apart from what we know of Thorar Nefjolfson’s voyage is obviously nothing extraordinary, while the journey between these two points must in all probability have been traversed more frequently than any of the others here referred to.

Hvarf (turning-point) in Greenland was either Cape Farewell or one of the promontories such as Sermesok lying immediately to the north-west of it, and for our present purpose it will be fair enough to calculate the distance to Cape Farewell.

This works out at about 631 miles in a direct line, and it is at once evident that four periods of twelve hours are quite insufficient to cover the voyage. On the other hand, four days of twenty-four hours suit remarkably well, the rate being about 6½ knots.

Let me now deal with one or two possible objections. First it may be urged that the version of the passage which specifies Hvarf as the objective may be wrong, and that the coast of Greenland immediately west of Snæfellsnes is the point of measurement. The words ‘west to Greenland’, which take the place of any mention of Hvarf in the alternative reading, may seem to bear out this view, but a glance at the chart will show that all the courses laid down must be interpreted with considerable freedom, and that Hvarf answers as closely to west of Iceland as, say, Ireland to south of Reykjanes. The real answers to the objection, however, are first that no one can ever have completed an uninterrupted voyage to a point in Greenland due west of Snæfellsnes, having regard to the ice barrier which at this point intervenes between the coast and the open sea; and next that the distance to Greenland due west of Snæfellsnes, about sixteen degrees of longitude, is at least 400 miles, and is therefore an equally impossible distance to cover in forty-eight hours sailing. Finally, it is surely more probable that a point regularly passed on the voyage between Iceland and Greenland should be chosen for measurement than an undefined locality in an unexplored region hundreds of miles out of the track of practical navigation. The next objection will possibly be that I have measured the distance on the rhumb-line, whereas it appears from the old sailing directions that this was by no means the usual course adopted. The course laid down in the directions attributed to Ivar Bardson appears to lie west for a day and a night and then in a south-westerly direction parallel to the belt of ice. Now first of all it must be remembered that a rhumb-line course is not actually the shortest, and if a day and a night due west be laid down on the chart and the remainder of the distance be calculated from say longitude 29·45 W., the resulting distance will not be very materially increased, but will come to somewhere about 645 miles, which can still be covered in four days, at a rate of about 6·7 knots. In point of fact probably all the courses with which I am dealing would in practice be longer than I have estimated them, and the average rate which I have deduced from them should be slightly increased, while the same does not apply to the rate of eight knots which I have taken as the maximum, since in this case a liberal allowance for deviation has already been made. If it be said that my maximum and average rates are in such circumstances brought rather close together, I reply that in fact a gale does not bring with it a very great advantage in speed over a fair sailing breeze, as the effect of the sea raised is to neutralize much of the gain which might otherwise be anticipated. If the distance actually travelled between Snæfellsnes and Hvarf be increased even to 700 miles, the rate is not much over seven knots, or well within the limits assigned. For these reasons the distance given in Landnáma between the two points seems to me to be a correct statement, but ‘dægra sigling’ must here be interpreted as days of twenty-four hours.

Similarly in the case of the voyage from Reykjanes to Jolduhlaup in Ireland. This cannot by any means be brought within the space of five ‘dægra’ of twelve hours each. Approximately the nearest points in Ireland may be taken as about 688 miles distant. Malin Head in the north and Erris Head in the west of Ireland are almost equidistant from Reykjanes, the former being some 685, the latter 690 miles from the starting-point. There is no real reason to suppose that any point in Ireland so near to Iceland is the true position of Jolduhlaup. It is evident on the other hand that a very few more miles will make the distance recorded perfectly consistent with five days of twenty-four hours. If we bring our ship into Sligo Bay the distance will be 718·6 miles, or ten ‘tylfts’ of 71·8. This would be perfectly consistent with the standards of distance already considered, but of course Jolduhlaup may easily have lain even farther away than this from Reykjanes. The name is generally taken to mean ‘wave-run’, and is sometimes spelt Olduhlaup. Joyce[93] attributes a Scandinavian origin to the name of Olderfleet close to Larne Harbour, and as ‘hlaup’ and ‘fljót’ are both common terminations meaning ‘stream’, this word in an Icelandic form (Oldufljót) would be practically identical with Olduhlaup. The author above quoted says that the first part of Olderfleet is a Scandinavian corruption of Ollorbha, the Celtic name of Larne water, but whether the true derivation be from this word or ‘oldu’ a wave is a question which applies equally to Olderfleet and Jolduhlaup and affords no ground of distinction between them. As far as names are concerned the two may well be identical. Larne would be the first important harbour after entering the North Channel between Scotland and Ireland, and may well have been chosen therefore as a well-known point for the measurements in Landnáma. From Reykjanes to Rathlin Island off the entrance of the North Channel is about 713 miles, thence to Larne would be about thirty-seven more, making a distance, if there be anything in this conjecture, of some 750 miles to be covered in the five ‘dægra’—ten ‘tylfts’ of seventy-five miles, which corresponds exactly with our amended table.

It has been objected that some of the MSS. do not read ‘five dægra’; this is true, but the alternative (three dægra) does not help those who contend for a twelve hours ‘dægr’, while even if we adopt the arbitrary emendation of the version printed at Skalholt in 1688 and read ‘eight dægra’, the rate of travel, even to the nearest point, would be too rapid to be normal. We have therefore once more a statement remarkably consistent with our data if we interpret a ‘dægr’ as twenty-four hours, and wholly impossible if a ‘dægr’ must universally be considered as only twelve.

In estimating the distance from Langanes to Svalbarda we are confronted with the difficulty that we do not know where the latter place can have been. I am content, however, to admit that in this case a dægr of twelve hours seems to be indicated. Four times twenty-four hours would penetrate too far into the Arctic regions to be at all probable, while Jan Mayen seems best to fulfil the conditions of a spot to the north of Langanes, situated in the Polar Sea.

From the point of Langanes to the southern extremity of Jan Mayen is about 296 miles, or ‘tylfts’ of 74 miles, the route in summer would at this point normally be clear of ice, and altogether it seems probable that Jan Mayen rather than Spitzbergen, as sometimes suggested (840 miles away), is the place described as Svalbarda.

The last distance recorded is from Kolbein’s Island (Mevenklint) to the uninhabited coast of Greenland lying to the north. The position of Mevenklint is in lat. 67° 10′ N., long. 18° 30′ W., and the nearest point on the Greenland coast would be about lat. 69° 40′ N., long. 22° 48′ W. The distance would therefore be 177·45 nautical miles, and so it is evident that it could not be covered by a voyage of twelve hours. In twenty-four hours, however, under exceptionally favourable conditions, the whole distance could be traversed, and in any case in that period of time a ship would be likely to have got as close to the land as the ice would permit. It is not likely that this particular voyage, which is not included in all the texts of Landnáma, was sufficiently often accomplished to enable a fair average to be taken; the allusion is more probably to a special case within the knowledge of the authors, which would in all likelihood have taken place on an exceptionally favourable opportunity.

Now the conclusions to which we are forced by the consideration of all these distances recorded in Landnáma are as follows:

1. Only two out of the five voyages are at all compatible with a ‘dægr sigling’ of twelve hours.

2. These two appear to be very accurately recorded, which raises a presumption in favour of the correctness of the other data. In the voyage from Stad to C. Horn we have exactly seven ‘tylfts’ of 74·9 miles to cover in seven dægra, in that from Langanes to Svalbarda (if Jan Mayen is meant) four ‘tylfts’ of seventy-four miles each in four dægra.

3. Either the remaining three are hopelessly inaccurate, or a ‘dægr sigling’ in these cases means twenty-four hours.

4. If they are inaccurate, it is a most remarkable coincidence that they can all be made accurate by adopting the basis of twenty-four hours.

Thus, taking the average of seventy-five miles in twelve hours at which we had previously arrived:

The distance from Stad to C. Horn would take 6·9 or practically seven days of twelve hours (given as seven dægra).

If the alternative Horn be taken the voyage would occupy 7·1 days.

From Snæfellsnes to Hvarf would be 4·1 days of twenty-four hours (given as four dægra).

In sailing from Reykjanes to any part of Ireland one could not arrive before the fifth day of twenty-four hours was well advanced, and it would be easy to find a point which would occupy exactly the time prescribed. From Langanes to Jan Mayen the distance is correct within eight miles, which may easily be accounted for by slight differences in the points of arrival or departure.

From Mevenklint to Greenland would occupy 1·16 days of twenty-four hours.

Thus the discrepancies are so slight that even if the rate had to be limited to this average, the statements would be as correct as so vague a unit as a day’s journey would permit, and of course the variation in speed must have been greatly in excess of anything required absolutely to justify these estimates in the smallest detail.

That in the case of three out of five statements such a correspondence should be fortuitous seems to me to be out of the question.

It will doubtless be objected that I am not justified in interpreting the same word in the same passage by two different periods of time. The compilers of the Landnámabók, however, expressly disclaim personal responsibility for the statistics recorded. They are based on the reports of ‘vitrir menn’, men that is with the requisite special knowledge, and once it is admitted that the meaning of the expression ‘dægr’ may have varied from place to place, there is nothing extraordinary in a discrepancy of this nature being exemplified in a passage based on information gathered from different informants in the east and west of Iceland.

It is comparatively easy to see how such a discrepancy in nautical use may have arisen. Evidently ‘dægr sigling’ was the usual nautical expression for a day’s sail. This is shown not only by the fact that it is nearly always in a nautical context that the word ‘dægr’ makes its appearance, but also by the opening sentence of the Landnámabók’s preface, which renders Bede’s words ‘sex dierum navigatione’ by ‘sex dægra sigling’ as the obvious equivalent. Now of course until the exodus brought about in Scandinavia by the policy of Harold Haarfagre, the vast majority of the voyages undertaken by Norsemen were along the coast of Norway and the adjacent countries, and were carried on almost entirely by day, the ships putting into a convenient haven almost every night. The coast of Norway, before the days of lighthouses, cannot have been a pleasant place to navigate in the dark, and in fact we almost always find it recorded, as an exceptional occurrence, when any motive induced the seamen of this period to sail day and night without stopping. A day’s journey in a ship would therefore in the normal course be equivalent to the distance covered in a ‘dægr’ of twelve hours, and thus the application of this word to a nautical day’s journey doubtless began. Then, when colonial expansion and viking enterprises made continuous open-sea voyages more common, two courses would be open to those who wished to record the distance travelled. They might take the nautical expression ‘dægr’ as referring to the twelve hours actually occupied in sailing under old conditions, or they might take it as extending to the period during which the ships of less venturous seamen had usually lain at anchor. A man who had taken—say—four ‘dægra’ to sail between two points, stopping at night, would actually have travelled but forty-eight hours, but the time occupied from point to point would have been four days of twenty-four hours. According to the aspect of the question which struck a sailor accustomed to this method of reckoning he would be likely to call a continuous voyage of four days either four or eight ‘dægra’. Thus a variety in local usage might quite naturally spring up which would account for the discrepancy which has given rise to the difficulties with which I have been endeavouring to deal.

Of course it is but seldom in passages where this expression is used that we have any data at all to enable us to say which meaning should be attached to the word. In the sagas of Wineland the word ‘dægr’ occurs perhaps with unusual frequency, and to my mind every passage where it is there employed might be prayed in aid of the argument that a ‘dægr sigling’ was frequently twenty-four hours. But to use these passages at this stage would be to argue in a circle, and we must be content to rest the assumption that the word was so used on the data of which use has been made in the foregoing argument, reserving to ourselves the right in subsequent investigation of the voyages to accept what is there stated with regard to distances sailed, even though on the hypothesis that a ‘dægr’ can only mean twelve hours the statements made are clearly incredible.

The ‘eyktarstad’ problem.

In the account of Leif’s sojourn in Wineland, contained in the Flatey Book, will be found a passage which has given rise to more acute controversy than any other in the story. It runs as follows:

‘Sol hafðe þar eyktarstad ok dagmálastad um skamdegi’—the sun had there eykt place and breakfast place on the shortest day, or, as rendered in our translation, p. 42, ‘on the shortest day the sun was up over the (Icelandic) marks for both nones and breakfast time’.

Now one may note in passing that, whatever the significance of the words, they are evidently not the sort of thing which a romanticizing saga-writer would introduce from his own imagination. This is admitted by the most adverse critics of the authority which reproduces them.

In view of the attitude taken up by some modern writers, it is important to point out their entire independence of anything to be extracted from the rival version. They go far to disprove, if disproof be necessary, the theory that the Flatey Book account is borrowed from the Saga of Eric the Red.

But at this point in the inquiry we are less concerned with this than with the precise significance of the expression used, and though the question has finally been solved, and nothing new can be added, it is necessary, for the sake of readers unfamiliar with the subject, to devote some space to the matter.

The Icelanders, possessing no clocks or scientifically constructed dials, were in the habit of estimating the time of day by the position of the sun above the horizon. With this object they marked eight points upon the horizon, utilizing hills and natural objects where such were conveniently situated, and erecting cairns in places which were otherwise undistinguished. This method of time-keeping, crude as it was, persisted down to very recent times, if indeed it is not still in use in some parts of the country. Henderson, who visited Iceland in 1814–15, describes the method in some detail (Iceland, vol. i, p. 186), and gives the names and time-equivalents of the various points as follows:—

1. Midnaetti. | About | 11 | p.m.
2. Otta. | ” | 2 | a.m.

3. Midur-morgun
(or Hirdis-rismal).

”

5

a.m.

4. Dagmal. | ” | 8 | a.m.
5. Hádegi. | ” | 11 | a.m.
6. Nón. | ” | 2 | p.m.
7. Midur Aptan. | ” | 5 | p.m.
8. Nattmal. | ” | 8 | p.m.

In an earlier work,[94] the same divisions of time are mentioned, but with some difference in the equivalents, thus:—‘Otta is with them three o’clock in the morning; Midur morgon or Herdis rismal, five o’clock; Dagmal, half past eight; Haadege, eleven; Nonn, three in the afternoon; Midur afton, six in the morning (sic: obviously should be ‘afternoon’); nattmal, eight, and midnatt twelve o’clock at night.’ A little thought will make apparent the reasons for these discrepancies in time, for not only is the method exceedingly rough, but of course the horizontal bearing or azimuth of the sun at a particular time is not the same throughout the year, and it also varies with the latitude. For example, taking the latitude of Iceland as 65°, and the obliquity of the ecliptic in a.d. 1000 as 23° 34′, which is substantially accurate, and calculating the sun’s bearing at three o’clock p.m. throughout the year, we get:—

Midsummer: | S. 57°   9′ W.
Equinox: | S. 47° 49′ W.
Midwinter: | S. 40° 36′ W. (not visible)

while on shifting the latitude to 51° 30′ (about that of London) we get a bearing of 68° 17′ for 3 p.m. at midsummer.

It appears, however, from the fact that one of the eight points was midnight, and another ‘hádegi’ (high day or noon), that the scheme would aim at dividing the equinoctial day into three-hour intervals. Dagmál would then be about 9 a.m. and Nón 3 p.m. The latter word originally meant the ecclesiastical ‘nones’ (3 p.m.) and in old Icelandic ‘eykt’ is used as synonymous with ‘nones’.

In the Icelandic Ecclesiastical Code, or Kristinret, instructions are given for the correct location of the mark for ‘eykt’. ‘It is eykt’, says the law, ‘when the south-west airt is divided into three, and the sun has passed two divisions and has one to go.’ This gives us a bearing of S. 52° 30′ W. for ‘eykt’ or nones, which would be, in Iceland of the eleventh century, pretty correct for 3 p.m. between the equinoxes and the summer solstice, during nearly the whole time, that is, when the sun would be visible at this hour in these northerly latitudes. (See accompanying diagram.)

Now the root error of all the earlier commentators who attempted the elucidation of the passage under consideration consisted in treating ‘eykt’ not as a solar bearing, but as a definite clock time. Three o’clock clearly would not do, for sunset at 3 p.m. on the shortest day in winter indicates a latitude too far north to correspond in any way with the climate indicated. Torfaeus, the earliest writer on the subject, accordingly interpreted ‘the south-west airt’ as the whole quarter between south and west, and dividing the time between noon and 6 p.m. (equinoctial west) into thirds he arrived at 4 p.m. as the time of sunset, which with 8 a.m. for Dagmál gave an eight hours day, or a latitude of approximately 49° N. Of course, for the reasons already given, the bearing corresponding to such a division of the horizon (S. 60° W.), assuming the latter to be justifiable, would not unalterably represent 4 p.m. even in Iceland, and the clock time for which the bearing stood in Iceland would be indicated by a wholly different position of the sun in another latitude.

Next came what may be called the school of Rafn, who claimed to have located the Wineland of the sagas with certainty in the neighbourhood of Rhode Island. For them an interpretation which resulted in a latitude of 49° was unsatisfactory. They accordingly prayed in aid a passage from Snorri’s Edda, in which the winter is said to begin at the point where the sun sets in ‘Eyktarstad’. It was known that winter, according to the Icelandic calendar, began in the week preceding the 18th of October, and observation in the latitude of Snorri’s home showed that the sun set there on the 17th of October at 4.30 p.m. As the passage is drawing a distinction between autumn and winter it could hardly refer to the Icelandic winter beginning about the 18th of October, for as Vigfusson has pointed out with regard to this division of the calendar, which persists in modern Iceland, it is a division of the year into summer and winter only, and leaves spring and autumn out of account.[95] But it led Rafn and his followers to assert, in the teeth of all the other evidence, that ‘eykt’ was not a point but a period of time, and that ‘eyktarstad’ was a point which could be interpreted as 4.30 p.m. apparently in any latitude! This, with ‘dagmálastad’ at 7.30 a.m. gave a day of nine hours, from which Rafn claimed to deduce the latitude—to a second of arc—as 41° 24′ 10″, an observation which, accepting Rafn’s theory as to the locality visited, would be beyond the accuracy of a modern sextant. Unfortunately for this surprising result, the method of calculation was hardly so correct, for, apart from the fallacy of treating the local time as transferable, no correction was made for the effects of refraction, &c., and the declination assumed was not that of the eleventh but of the nineteenth century.

It remained for Dr. Gustav Storm to point out the correct way of utilizing the data supplied. Assuming the instructions in the Kristinret to apply to an observation recorded of an earlier day, and assuming the passage to mean that the sun set at the precise moment of ‘eykt’, the amplitude, or distance from the west at setting, of the sun on the shortest day in Wineland was 37½. We may assume, as the observer would have been looking across the land, that the lower edge of the sun was at least 19′ above the actual horizon, and this being so no allowance for refraction or dip of the horizon need be made before working out the formula:—sec : lat : = sin : amp : cosec : decl. Professor Turner, of the Oxford University Observatory, has kindly supplied me with the corrected declination for the year a.d. 1000, viz: 23° 34′ 8″. We need not trouble about the seconds, as we know neither the precise moment of the solstice nor even the year with certainty; omitting these the problem works out as follows:—

log sin : amplitude : | 9·784447
log cosec : declination : | 10·398140
log sec : latitude : | 10·182587

The latitude therefore would be about 48° 57′ N. This, however, correctly understood, gives only the northern limit beyond which the observation could not have been made.

It might be argued that the refinements enjoined in the Kristinret were not likely to have been in operation in these primitive times. There seem to have been eight day-marks, two of which represented midnight and noon respectively, and it would seem more natural therefore for men who attached no particular importance to the hour of 3 p.m. such as was subsequently associated with the time of nones, to divide their horizon into equal parts, which would serve, at any rate at the equinoxes, accurately for 6 a.m. and p.m. and mid-day, while dagmál and eykt would occupy the points midway between the others, and stand, less accurately, for 9 a.m. and 3 p.m. The answer to this criticism probably is that it was found necessary to divide the day into equal watches: anyhow, such an interpretation cannot be correct, for an amplitude of 45° would give a latitude of 55° 34′ up to which this bearing would be visible, and this would be too near the latitude of Greenland to be remarkable, while nothing is clearer than that the writer of the passage was endeavouring to record a marked and surprising difference from the length of the winter day to which Greenlanders were accustomed.

This in fact, rather than a precise determination of latitude, would seem to be the object of the statement, taken as a whole. It is as if one were to say, ‘I could breakfast, or shave, by daylight all the year round.’ It by no means follows from the passage that dagmálastad and eyktarstad are meant to be understood as sunrise and sunset; in fact, it would involve an extraordinary coincidence if they were. There were only eight points in general use by which the time of day could be measured or expressed, and to say therefore that the sun was up at a particular time does not indicate that at that precise moment it was on the horizon. Indeed if Rafn had been content with probabilities instead of trying to make the passage support an exact determination of latitude, he would have made out a fairly strong case, so far as eyktarstad was concerned, for the locality which he identified with the explorers’ camp. The chances are that, over a background of wooded and hilly ground, actual sunrise and sunset were invisible, and that the sun was well up at the time of passing over the points recorded. I have calculated roughly the altitude of the sun in eyktarstad at the time in question, and I make out that even so far south as 40° it would not be as much as 5½°. Even assuming that the time of sunset was meant, it would not require any very great unevenness of the horizon to produce the effect of sunset at this point in the latitude supported by Rafn, and it is almost certain that the locality indicated was much nearer to this latitude than to the northern limit of the observation.

Taken with their context, the words seem to be an illustration of the greater equality of day and night referred to in the opening words of the sentence. Their real value lies in the fact that they embody a remark of a circumstantial and business-like character, which goes far to support the historical authenticity of the narrative. It is not the sort of thing that a romancer would invent, it is the sort of thing that a traveller would notice. Secondarily, though in all probability the words indicate a much more southerly latitude, they make it impossible that the site of the observation was north of (roughly) 49°. To consider them as a deliberate attempt to fix latitude is to lose sight of all probabilities. Let any who still adhere to this interpretation go and fix marks for themselves, and endeavour therefrom to ascertain the latitude. The south point could of course be fixed accurately, by the place of the shortest shadow or various other well-known devices. The time equivalents given by Henderson and Troil do not, however, suggest that it was so fixed as a rule. But without instruments to measure the angles for the other marks correctly to—say—2° would be very difficult indeed, while the marks themselves would probably subtend an appreciable angle. An error of one degree will be more than reproduced in the latitude. Any change in the exact position of the observer would be likely to cause an inaccuracy of at least this extent; so that if the locality visited is to be identified at all it certainly will not be by the use of this passage, on which so many commentators have expended so much fruitless ingenuity.

VI. THE VOYAGES. GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS

The reader who has attentively followed the argument so far will, I think, be convinced that the discovery and exploration of some parts of America by the Norsemen rests upon a solid historical foundation.

It now becomes necessary to deal with a matter as to which there is considerably more scope for controversy; the reconstruction, so far as is reasonably possible, of the voyages themselves. No one acquainted with the difficulties presented by the records of far later explorers, such as Cabot and Corte Real, will expect this to be a subject on which it is possible to dogmatize; the geographical details can probably never be settled with absolute finality. We must advance cautiously and by stages, eliminating the impossible and establishing broad lines, before we embark on the fascinating task of theorizing on points of detail.

Difficulties of the Task.

The principal difficulty lies in the fact that in the primitive state of the science of navigation at the period those particulars are naturally most vague and unreliable on which we are most accustomed to depend. There are no precise latitudes or longitudes, and even the compass, though in use before the extant manuscripts were written, was not known to these early explorers. For distances we have to depend on periods of time which may have been inaccurately copied, and the very meaning of which is a subject of acute controversy. (See previous chapter, §1.) The courses set down are quite likely to have been affected by the preconceived ideas of later editors, and are in any case vague, often only roughly indicated by the direction of the wind.

We have in fact to depend to a large extent on what we are told of the appearance of the various coasts, and of the different local products.

And so far as one version of the story is concerned, we have to depend for these on the description of one voyage only—Karlsefni’s. With regard to the other version, that of the Flatey Book, it must be borne in mind that the writers of that saga considered all the explorers to have made the same landfall. They came to ‘Leif’s camp’. Now, while this was a natural idea to those who had no notion of the size of the country, it seems to me improbable that it represents the actual facts. To the writer of the Flatey Book version, ‘Leif’s camp’ and ‘Wineland’ were more or less synonymous terms. But the more detailed account of Karlsefni’s voyage suggests that while the later explorer was looking for the district visited by Leif, he never in fact found it. Leif seems to have hurried ashore on his first sight of the country, and to have conducted a merely local exploration. His brother, Thorvald, who, following immediately after Leif, may have arrived at the same base, we are told, ‘thought that the exploration of the country had been confined to too narrow an area’. Karlsefni, on the other hand, after arrival at Keelness, conducted a very protracted exploration, and apparently split his party into two, one going north and the other south, with the object of rediscovering Leif’s Wineland. As I hope presently to show, Leif cannot have penetrated to Karlsefni’s Hóp. Yet the writer of the Flatey Book, imbued with the idea that Leif and Karlsefni occupied identical camps, has evidently felt himself at liberty to draw his description of the scene of Leif’s landing from the fullest report available, which, as he tells us, was Karlsefni’s. Given the notion that all the explorers made the same landfall, this was natural and legitimate enough, but it adds an element of confusion to our already difficult task. There can, I think, be little doubt that the combination of shoal, river, and lake in the description of Leif’s camp is Karlsefni’s Hóp, but, as will be seen later, it is improbable that Leif ever got there.

I am inclined to think that another instance of the same sort of confusion is to be traced in Hauk’s version of the story. After the resolve to return home on account of the savages, the author brings the party back to Straumsfjord. He then evidently wishes to incorporate some matter from different sources. So he first puts in a note of some information at variance with that just given, ‘Some men say’, &c., and then interpolates his version of the death of Thorvald Ericson, who, as has been pointed out in the chapter on the Flatey Book (p. 126), has really no place in this saga up to this point. It will be observed that in both versions Thorvald is killed on a voyage north past Keelness, where as one story has it, ‘it was all covered with wood’, while the other says, ‘there was nothing but desolate woods’. It seems most unlikely that Karlsefni’s party, after a definite resolve to return home, should have embarked on a fresh voyage of discovery, so, though the evidence may not be conclusive, I am inclined to think that the matter here incorporated was originally an account of an independent voyage undertaken by Thorvald, as given in the Flatey Book. The verses about the uniped, which are old, certainly mention Karlsefni, but, as Storm points out in his edition of the saga, the verses seem but loosely fitted to the context, and make no mention of the uniped’s ferocity. It seems probable therefore that the uniped is made to kill Thorvald in order that the lay may be worked in, just as the author works in the death-speech of Thormod Kolbrunarskald, with very little alteration and considerable infelicity, as the last words of Thorvald Ericson.

Seeing, then, that we have reason to suspect confusions of this nature, it is plainly impossible to discriminate as much as could be wished between the different voyages, and we are thrown back mainly on Karlsefni, though Bjarni Herjulfson’s adventure is on rather a different footing, and can be investigated independently.

The Cardinal Points.

Faced with these difficulties, how are we to proceed? It is established that the Norsemen visited North America: the map of that country lies before us, awaiting the results of our survey. The evidence to hand is plainly of unequal value; we are in fact very much in the position of the cartographer, whose material ranges from the meticulously accurate work of the professional expert with his theodolite to the hasty compass traverses and sketches of the pioneer explorer fighting his way through trackless and savage wilds. The method by which the map-maker obtains the most satisfactory results from his material is, I think, one to be imitated here. To a framework made up of a number of points fixed with the utmost certainty of which science is capable, he adjusts the less trustworthy material, rejecting altogether that which cannot be brought into line with such facts as have been definitely ascertained. Any haphazard selection of separate items is bound to result in a considerable if not a cumulative error.

So in the present case, unless we adhere inflexibly to what may be regarded as our fixed points, adapting that which fits, either wholly or in part, and inexorably rejecting the remainder, we shall be apt to jump to a conclusion and indulge in an arbitrary selection of whatever pieces of evidence happen to support it. A study of the results achieved by some earlier investigators of the subject presses this danger very forcibly upon one’s attention.

Now perhaps some may be inclined to demur to the use of such an expression as ‘fixed points’ in this connexion, but there are really quite a number of statements standing out from the rest as facts which anyone who credits the sagas at all must regard as reasonably certain. These I will endeavour to set out before drawing any conclusions, in the hope that, studied apart from any question of where they may lead us, they may meet with general acceptance.

1. A line drawn about the 49th parallel of north latitude is fixed by the ‘eyktarstad’ observation as the northern limit of the area in which Wineland is to be sought. The passage, as we have seen, cannot be interpreted to mean that the sun set on the shortest day precisely at the point of eyktarstad. It would, in fact, be a coincidence difficult to credit if the sunset on a particular day corresponded with a mark arbitrarily fixed in Iceland for a wholly different purpose. The passage means, in fact, rather that the sun had not set at the point in question; consequently to the south of this line we have an increasing probability for a considerable distance.

2. The scope of our inquiry is further restricted by the limits within which the wild vine is to be found. Omitting as irrelevant Jacques Cartier’s discoveries of this plant in the Gulf of St. Lawrence,[96] this area may be said to begin with the Annapolis Basin in western Nova Scotia, excluding the rest of that peninsula, and from thence to follow the coast of New England as far south as we care to go. The discovery of the vine by the Norsemen is, I think, conclusively established. The name conferred on the country, which can be traced back to the very inception of written history, in itself goes far to prove it. It is corroborated by Adam of Bremen at a still earlier date, and it is plain from the apparently contemporary verses of Thorhall the Hunter that before the time of Karlsefni’s voyage it had been alleged by some member of a prior expedition that the vine flourished in the new country. The corn is perhaps a little more doubtful, and its nature more controversial; it is accordingly excluded from our cardinal points.

3. The area explored must be divided by stretches of open sea into three independent land-forms. Different parts of one unbroken coastline will not suit the conditions required. All the accounts agree in deferring any coasting voyage to the point where Wineland is reached.

4. Helluland, Markland, Wineland, Furdustrands, are all place-names drawn from natural characteristics. Whatever form their attributes may have taken, we are justified in treating Helluland as a land of stones, Markland as one of woods, Wineland as a grape-country, and Furdustrands as a coast with a beach of extraordinary length. The last-named was not an isolated point; the name survived into later Icelandic geography as that of a district comparable with the three main divisions of the country, though with most erroneous ideas as to its situation. Thus the geographical treatise known as Gripla:

‘Furdustrands is the name of a land where there is hard frost, so that it is not habitable, so far as is known; south of it is Helluland, &c.’

Its existence is corroborated by a reference in the very early verses ascribed to Thorhall the Hunter,—‘and boil their whales on Furdustrand’—and if we accept the testimony of the saga as to the locality where these verses were composed, the beaches in question must have stretched at least from Keelness to Straumsfjord.

5. Keelness, as a cape running in a more or less northerly direction, and constituting the first point touched at in Wineland, is established by the constant references to such a feature in both the independent versions of the story. The derivation of its name, in spite of statements in the sagas, may well be treated as uncertain. Both Keelness and Bjarney (Bear Island) are names existing elsewhere, and what we are told of them may have been invented to account for them. They may, in fact, owe their names to a fancied resemblance to prototypes elsewhere.

6. Straumsfjord, with its island and strong currents, is too circumstantially described to be an invention.

7. The topographical characteristics of Hóp, apart from the meaning of the name, which seems to be a land-locked tidal estuary, are confirmed by the evidence of both independent versions. We must therefore accept its main features—extensive shoals, and a river running through a lake into the sea.

These then are our points of departure. To these we may safely add, as a general rule, points as to which the independent versions agree. The savages, though equally well authenticated, and valuable as evidence of the general truthfulness of the story, are not included, since, whatever the opinion we ourselves have formed, it may still be considered arguable by some that they were Eskimo. In any case they do not help us to fix any situation more closely than our other data. If they were Indians they might occur anywhere within the area of our inquiry, if Eskimo they cannot carry Wineland with them north of the 49th parallel, or away from the vines from which it derived its name. Their existence, if established, would only prove a more southerly migration of the Eskimo than has been hitherto generally accepted.

The Labrador Theory.

In spite of all this some writers have strenuously maintained that the full scope of all the voyages recorded should be confined to the Labrador coast. These are not generally to be found among those who have specialized on the subject. They are more usually those who, like Weise (Discoveries of America to 1525), deal with the matter incidentally, as part of a wider historical study. Their view, for the most part, seems to be connected with a sceptical attitude towards the sagas as a whole. It is, indeed, independent of the story except in so far as this supplies some corroboration of the bare fact that the Norsemen discovered America. Its advocates mainly argue on independent grounds that bold sailors like the Norsemen, having got so far as Greenland, must occasionally have been driven to Labrador. Nothing that is recorded of Wineland can really be brought into line with such theory, except possibly the skrælings, who are made the most of for that purpose with very inconclusive results. The ‘eyktarstad’ observation (see previous chapter, p. 211), a most circumstantial point in the story, rules out the whole of Labrador.

The climate, too, is altogether inappropriate, and, of course, the vines and corn become an absurdity. Apart from these things one may ask where, on the Labrador coast, we are to find three distinct land-forms, with wholly different characteristics, and separated from one another by days of open sea.

It is true that a Boston botanist, Professor Fernald, has endeavoured to suggest that the vines, the corn, and the mösur wood were all products of quite a different order, which are to be found in Labrador. The vines, according to him, are the ‘partridge-berry’ of Canada (the tyttebær of Norway); the corn, lyme-grass (arundo arenaria); and the mösur a form of birch. If this were so it is difficult to understand why things perfectly well known in Iceland should have attracted so much attention, or have been described by totally new names; or why a land containing nothing better than partridge-berries should have been called Wineland. As regards the vines, it may be further pointed out that ‘Vine-wood’ (vínvið) is more frequently mentioned in the sagas than grapes, which seems to rule out berries; lyme-grass (melur) is well known in Iceland, and a kind of flour was prepared from it in that country in quite recent times.[97] Lastly, the mösur wood was not anything known to the Norsemen, for we are expressly told, in the episode of the Bremen merchant, that Karlsefni did not know what wood it was.

Altogether this, the latest variant of the Labrador theory, must be discarded like its predecessors.

Storm’s theory—Labrador, Newfoundland, Nova Scotia.

The theory most generally accepted at the present time is that put forward by Dr. Storm in Studier over Vinlandsreiserne.

Before making any independent analysis of the voyages, it will be useful to examine this theory in the light of the principles just laid down. According to Storm, Helluland, Markland, and Wineland are Labrador, Newfoundland, and Nova Scotia respectively.

The identification of Labrador with Helluland is based mainly upon the appearance of that barren coast, and the presence there of arctic foxes in large numbers. Certainly the little that we are told of Helluland suits Labrador very well, and the name conferred is suggestive of the unflattering description of the country written in later times by Jacques Cartier:—‘It should not be named the New Land, but the land of stones and rocks, frightful and ill-shaped, for in all the said North coast I did not find a cartload of earth, though I landed in many places,—in short, I deem rather than otherwise that it is the land God gave to Cain’. Indeed, as I know from personal experience, the bald, glaciated rocks of the Labrador coast are a feature so striking that one must admit the probability of the country deriving a name from them.

Yet it can hardly be disputed that at the date under consideration all that we are told of Helluland would suit Newfoundland as well as Labrador. No doubt at the present day the arctic fox is more suggestive of Labrador, but in past times this animal seems to have been quite common in Newfoundland. Thus Antony Parkhurst writes to Hakluyt from that country in 1578,—‘I had almost forgotten to speake of the plentie of wolves, and to show you that there be foxes, blacke, white and grey’, and in another passage he speaks of the remarkable fearlessness of these foxes—a trait more characteristic, even in a new country, of the arctic than the red species. The red fox, even where it is unaccustomed to the sight of man, is easily scared and habitually cunning, but I myself have found the arctic fox so fearless that it was practically impossible to keep it away from meat lying close to the camp. A handkerchief tied to the horn of a dead caribou was of no use even as a temporary check.

Still, so far as all this goes, Helluland might well be in Labrador. But even if Helluland be Labrador, can we consider Newfoundland as Markland? Accepting the only authority relied on by Storm and his school, we do not get any positive clue from the description given of the country. ‘Much wood and many beasts’ is not distinctive, though, no doubt, it can be made to apply to Newfoundland as well as any other place. If we include the Flatey Book description, ‘low-lying, with wide stretches of white sand, the slope from the sea was not abrupt’, it is difficult any longer to look for Markland along the bold, rocky coasts of Newfoundland. The description is certainly not characteristic. But setting the question of local resemblance apart, the identification is defended on the ground that one text gives for the direction from Helluland, ‘they changed their course from south to south-east’. This seems to me a most unreliable statement on which to found a definite and positive conclusion. In the first place, the change of course indicated is only given by Hauk; the purer companion version states merely that the explorers had a north wind. Having regard to the fact that the word ‘south-east’ (landsuðr) occurs in the very next sentence,—‘an island lay to the south-east’—there is here an obvious trap for the unwary copyist. Supposing the word in the archetype of the saga to have been originally south-west (utsuðr), a course more consistent with the general direction of Karlsefni’s investigations, it is extremely likely to have been mistranscribed with a word so like it close at hand to catch the eye. Besides, the courses on the whole are so manifestly wrong, or at best vague approximations, that no one can be on sure ground who relies on them. (Cf. Chapter II, p. 131.)

But, more than this, inherent probability is dead against a south-easterly course between Helluland and Markland. The original discoverer, whoever he was, would never have sailed into the open sea south-east from Labrador. If return to Greenland was his object he would turn north-east; if exploration, he would hug the coast. In the latter event he would either sail through the Strait of Belle Isle, which he clearly did not, or, regarding this as a mere inlet or fjord, would treat Newfoundland and Labrador as one country. If Karlsefni was navigating independently of the experience of a predecessor, he would have acted in the same way, and formed the same conclusion. If he were making use of another explorer’s sailing directions, he might, indeed, cut south-east from Labrador to Cape Freels, but he would do so with a knowledge of what lay before him, and would not therefore regard as a separate country what his predecessor had decided to be connected with Helluland. For these reasons I am disposed to reject the identification of Markland with Newfoundland, and to conclude that, whether the spot visited in Helluland lay in Newfoundland or in Labrador, the name must be regarded as including both countries.

Still more unsatisfactory is the identification of Nova Scotia with Wineland. Except in the Annapolis basin on the west, which does not suit the requirements of the saga, no wild grapes can be found there. The temperature falls to 20° below zero in winter; frost generally continues from Christmas to April. Moreover, the description of the coast in the sagas, at all events in the neighbourhood of Keelness, the cape at its northern extremity, insists upon long beaches and sands, so remarkable in extent as to give rise to the name Furðustrandir (The Wonderful Beaches). Nova Scotia shows nothing of the kind. This is a circumstance of such importance that I shall return to it hereafter; here it will be sufficient to state that all authorities, ancient and modern, agree in speaking of Nova Scotia as a rocky coast, with numerous indentations. Of the authorities who accept Storm’s views in the main, Mr. Dieserud and Mr. Babcock have realized this difficulty, though Mr. Babcock alone has made a serious attempt to face it. His solution may be left for later consideration; here he shall merely be called as an unwilling witness against Nova Scotia. ‘These people had swift ships. Beaches of ordinary length must also have been familiar to all of them.... They would not marvel at a stretch of fifty miles’. ‘The palpable fact that Nova Scotia does not now supply these wonderstrands ... seems to have compelled Dr. Storm to piece out this part of his theory with minor beaches that the Icelanders would have hardly glanced at as they swept by’. The objection could not be more forcibly stated; there let us leave it for the moment.

Again: Karlsefni was exploring for three years. On more than one occasion he sailed ‘a long time’. When the saga means a day or two, it says so; nay, it frequently seems, if anything, to understate the time occupied. The extreme length of Nova Scotia is under 350 miles; two days and nights at 7 knots would about cover the distance. We need far more space than this theory affords; in fact, it needs Procrustean methods to fit the Wineland of the sagas into the confines of Nova Scotia. To compress the whole scope of the exploration, from Keelness to Hóp, as Mr. Dieserud does, into the coast between Cape Breton and Halifax, seems inconsistent both with the letter and the spirit of the story.

Theories including New England.

Members of the older school of Wineland investigators are, at present, greatly discredited. Their enthusiasm outran all bounds of scientific caution, and they heaped ridicule on their theories by the attempt to support them with evidence which was largely pure rubbish. Alleged Norse remains in America have justly become a byword; although Mr. Babcock thinks it worth while to review all that has been adduced of this sort of testimony, he adopts without hesitation the general verdict that, as was a priori probable, no vestiges of Norse visits remain to the present day. There can never have been more than the makeshifts of a transient encampment; ‘perierunt etiam ruinae’. As a result of their ill-judged and credulous enthusiasm, no serious writer finds himself able to agree on a point of detail with Rafn or Horsford without a preliminary apology.

Yet there may be something to be said for the adoption of the main lines of their identification of the ‘three lands’: Newfoundland, Nova Scotia, and New England standing for Helluland, Markland, and Wineland. It is the theory that leaps to the eye on looking at a map with a view to discovering three separate land-forms lying in the track of an exploration from Greenland or Iceland. It is, perhaps, at its weakest in its identification of Helluland, though, as has been shown, Newfoundland is not excluded by the conditions required. If, however, as I have suggested, Labrador and Newfoundland were likely to have been regarded as one and the same country, the identification of Markland and Wineland is not affected.

The little we know of Markland fits Nova Scotia very well. ‘Much wood and many beasts’ may, of course, be descriptive of Newfoundland and its caribou, but it would also be true of Nova Scotia. In the voyage of Mr. Hill of Redrife in 1593, given in Hakluyt, a casual run ashore at Cape Breton is thus described;—‘and as they viewed the country they saw divers beastes and foules, as black foxes, deere, otters, &c., &c.’. It is apparent that as late as the sixteenth century the fauna of Nova Scotia was sufficiently plentiful to strike a ship’s crew as soon as they went ashore. The description of the country given in the Flatey Book, which is unlike anything Icelandic and consequently sounds genuine, will suit the southern extremity of Nova Scotia, a very likely landfall, much better than Newfoundland. It is low-lying and wooded, as Champlain found between Port Mouton and Cape Negro,—‘the shores which I saw, up to that point, are very low, and covered with such wood as that seen at the Cap de la Heve’. As to the white sand we may compare Hudson’s description,—‘The land by the water side is low land, and white sandie banks rising, full of little hills.’

While there is no sufficient extent of beach in Nova Scotia to serve for Furdustrands, there is enough sand as a local feature to suit the conditions required for Markland.

In their identification of Wineland with New England rather than Nova Scotia, the older school are on even less questionable ground, however rash their speculations on points of detail. Indeed, there seems to be a tendency at the present day, which is exemplified in the conclusions of Mr. Babcock, to depart so far from Storm’s theories as to include a part of the New England coast-line. The addition of New England gets over the formidable difficulties before noticed, of want of space for the whole of Karlsefni’s expedition, and almost entire absence of the wild vine. Whether or no we must also include Nova Scotia in the ‘third land’ visited by the Norsemen, we shall be well advised to look for Hóp, at any rate, along the coast of the United States. Personally, I feel strongly that Nova Scotia is needed for Markland, and that Wineland must have been situated altogether to the west or south-west of it.

Before entering upon the more detailed consideration of the voyages which forms the subject of the ensuing chapters, I would provisionally fix the broad lines of our research in accordance with the arguments adduced above. Helluland will then be in all probability Newfoundland and Labrador considered as one country, or perhaps Newfoundland alone; Markland will be Nova Scotia; and Wineland, the most important area in the inquiry, somewhere on the eastern seaboard of the United States.

Postscript on two recent theories.

It will be convenient here to deal with the theories advanced by two recent writers, whose works did not come to my notice until all the chapters of the present volume were written. These are:

1. Professor W. Hovgaard’s Voyages of the Norsemen to America (New York, 1915), and

2. Professor H. P. Steensby’s The Norsemen’s route from Greenland to Wineland (Copenhagen, 1918).

Of the two treatises the second is on the whole the more revolutionary. For Professor Steensby, after locating both Helluland and Markland in Labrador, and identifying Bjarney with Newfoundland, brings his explorers into the gulf of St. Lawrence, with southern Labrador for Furdustrands, Keelness (after Furdustrands) at Point Vaches by the mouth of the Saguenay, Straumsey at Hare Island in the St. Lawrence river, and Hóp, still in the St. Lawrence, at St. Thomas on the southern side.

Though entertaining widely different views as to the relative value of the sources—Professor Steensby altogether rejecting the Flatey Book, whose authority the other author upholds—both writers agree in certain respects which are somewhat novel. Both make Karlsefni’s first landing-place, in Helluland, at a point in Labrador which is almost in the same latitude as southern Greenland, involving a course very far to the west of south; and both insist on a coasting voyage throughout, with no intervals of open sea between the different lands visited. It seems to me that both these theories rest on a substitution of what their authors regard as inherent probabilities for the express language of the sagas.

More especially is this the case with Professor Hovgaard’s treatment of Bjarni. He brings him first to Newfoundland, and carries him back along the Labrador coast to Resolution Island off Baffin Land, in order to substantiate the ice (jökul, understood as glaciers) of the story. The effect of this treatment, when the author comes to consider Leif’s and Thorvald’s voyages, is to leave an enormous unexplained stretch of coast between Helluland (Resolution Island) and Markland, which he agrees cannot be reasonably identified with any place north of Cape Sable in Nova Scotia. (As regards Leif’s Markland and Wineland, indeed, Professor Hovgaard comes to substantially the same conclusions as myself.) But, considered apart from this difficulty, there are still formidable objections to this reconstruction of Bjarni’s voyage.

1. The text either expresses or implies an open sea passage out of sight of land between the various landfalls. From the first to the second land this is implied in the statement ‘after sailing two days they saw another (or the second) land’. From the second to the third land it is expressly stated that the ship sailed ‘out to sea for three days, when they saw the third land’. In the remaining case ‘they turned the bows away from the land and held out to sea’.

2. The whole point of giving the direction of the wind (south-west) is to supply an indication of the course. To this course Professor Hovgaard pays no attention: from Resolution Island to Herjulfsness the bearing would actually be to the south of east, and the rest of the voyage is to the west of north.

With regard to Karlsefni, Professor Hovgaard’s treatment of his authorities is even more arbitrary. The previous expeditions, he agrees with me, had found Wineland on the coast of the United States. Now Wineland was Karlsefni’s objective, and his expedition, if somewhat cumbrous, was more elaborately equipped and took more time than any other. Yet, according to the writer under consideration, Karlsefni never got to Wineland at all. He first paid a visit to Baffin Land or northern Labrador, then coasted to Nain on the Labrador coast and conferred on that locality a name (Markland) already allocated by his predecessor to a spot far to the south,[98] and next, instead of following Leif’s directions, went wandering into Sandwich Bay, which is here identified with Straumsfjord. True, as our author remarks, the winter at Straumsfjord is described as severe. Still, the expedition was evidently not frozen in, as it would have been in Labrador, for even at this time the Norsemen ‘hoped for fishing or jetsam’, and actually acquired a stranded whale. Captain Cartwright, who settled in this region, thus describes the winter conditions:—

Ascend yon Mountain’s top; extend your view

O’er Neptune’s trackless Empire, nor will you,

In all his vast Domain, an Opening have,

Where foams the Billow, or where heaves the Wave.

A dreary Desart all, of Ice and Snow.

In this spot, according to Professor Hovgaard, maddened by mosquitoes in the summer, and hopelessly frozen in during a long winter, the experienced Karlsefni, far north of his objective, established his principal base. And in all the three years of his exploration, according to the same author, Karlsefni never penetrated farther than a ‘Hóp’ in Newfoundland, having failed to reach even the Markland of his predecessor. The theory in fact involves a wholesale readjustment and arbitrary selection of the available material which must be read to be appreciated. Of course Karlsefni found no vines or corn, and the ‘sands’ of Furdustrands are conspicuously absent.

The minor point that this theory requires a coasting voyage throughout may now be considered in conjunction with Professor Steensby’s conclusions. I do not lay much stress on the evidence of the old maps, dealt with later on in Chapter IX, though they show that there was always understood to be open sea between the three principal ‘lands’. The Icelandic geography referred to in the same chapter (p. 287) likewise assumes sea at any rate between Markland and Wineland. I would ask the impartial reader to refer to the text, and see whether it conveys to him any idea of a coasting voyage until Keelness is reached, except in one case in Hauk’s version, which is at variance with the purer language of Eric’s Saga. Let him further decide whether, on a dispassionate reading of the evidence, Helluland, Markland, and Wineland can be treated as parts of one and the same unbroken coastline.

Professor Steensby (p. 32) argues that the Norsemen habitually coasted on approaching land, saying, moreover, ‘This applies in a quite especial degree when new land was in question.’ I should have thought it more true to say that the Norsemen were the pioneers of open-sea navigation, and the necessity for keeping plenty of sea-room would be particularly cogent in the case of a coast whose dangers were quite unknown. Moreover, according to all accounts, the first discovery was accidental, and open sea might well have been crossed in the endeavour to get back to Greenland, as we are told in the case of Bjarni: if this were so, subsequent expeditions would keep as far as possible to the track of their predecessors up to the point when they arrived at the country (Wineland) which alone was considered desirable to visit and explore. Along the shores of Wineland they would undoubtedly coast, and this is exactly what we are told in the sagas.

I will not dwell on the modification of the courses given, as this is not a point upon which much reliance can, in the circumstances, be placed. The statement, however, of the saga, that Helluland lay south of Greenland, is corroborated by the old Icelandic geography (see, post Chapter IX, p. 287), and in any case the ultimate objective lay so far to the south that a ship, limited in storage capacity, would naturally press in that direction as quickly as possible. As I shall have occasion to point out later (Chapter VIII, p. 262), a ship coasting Labrador in the early summer would be liable to be tremendously delayed by ice, of which we find no mention, apart from other considerations, in the report of Karlsefni’s expedition. If the manipulation of the courses stood alone, however, this point would hardly be conclusive.

But once we are in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, the objections to this theory are formidable indeed. In the first place, Professor Steensby is compelled to keep Karlsefni in Straumsfjord (the St. Lawrence) throughout, and to make Hóp a point actually in the fjord. This is quite inconsistent with our authority. The climatic conditions of Straumsfjord and Hóp appear to have been markedly different, and the language everywhere implies that it was necessary to leave the one place to reach the other.

Secondly, the author under consideration is forced to place Keelness after Furdustrands and close to the Straumsfjord base. The saga, however, before mentioning Furdustrands, states ‘there was a cape (Keelness) where they arrived’, i.e. it was the first point sighted after leaving Markland. Again, in reverse order from Straumsfjord, ‘Thorhall wished to go north by Furdustrands and past Keelness.’ Straumsey is identified with Hare Island, which even at the present day is described as ‘densely wooded’, an unlikely place, one would think, for quantities of breeding sea-fowl, and ill-adapted as a pasture land for cattle. Finally, Professor Steensby’s ‘Hóp’, at St. Thomas, faces north, which is in conflict with the saga, where we are told more than once that the Skrælings came in from the south. From the situation of Karlsefni’s camp by the ‘lake’ it is clear that the arrival of the savages could only have been perceived after they had entered the estuary, which must accordingly, if the authority is to be trusted, have faced south rather than north.

St. Thomas, being slightly south of the 47th parallel, is within the possible limits of the eyktarstad observation. This, however, is only true if we understand that the sun set at that precise point on the day in question. As I have elsewhere pointed out, it would be too strange a coincidence to be readily accepted if the Norsemen settled at a spot where the sun, exactly on the shortest day of the year, covered at the very moment of setting one of the eight marks fixed in a totally different latitude for the purpose of determining three-hour intervals. We are therefore forced to the conclusion that the sun had not set at the moment in question, but was up at this point so as to be capable of being used. This being so, a latitude far south of the computed limit is indicated, and, as regards this observation, Professor Steensby’s Hóp is within an area too near this limit to be at all probable.

VII. THE VOYAGES IN DETAIL: BJARNI, LEIF, THORVALD

Bjarni Herjulfson.

As has been stated in a former chapter, poor Bjarni has been severely handled by Storm and most of the accepted authorities. The case for and against his voyage has been already dealt with, and it is hoped that some readers may have been persuaded that Bjarni has a solid claim to be regarded as the first seaman who sighted American shores. But, whether or no the personal claims of Bjarni can be substantiated, I submit that we have here a very clear and correct account of the way in which America was discovered, whether by Bjarni or another. The first discovery must necessarily have been accidental, and must almost certainly have been, as stated of Bjarni, from south to north, as subsequent exploration in a southerly direction would not otherwise have been encouraged. The northern part of America offered few attractions to the practical minds of early explorers, whose criterion was ‘that it would be a profitable country to visit’; Labrador or Newfoundland from the sea would seem at first sight to deserve Bjarni’s epithet ‘ogagnvaenligt’—good-for-nothing. Storm-driven mariners, with stores running short, would hardly have pursued investigations from north to south, while in the reverse direction discovery was forced upon them by circumstances, and their experience might well prompt further exploration on the part of the inhabitants of Greenland. Whatever criticisms have been passed upon Bjarni’s voyage by those who are unable to bring it into line with their theories, it seems to me that if all the rest of our material had been destroyed, this voyage would be regarded as in itself sufficient to substantiate the fact of Norse discovery.

Slight and sketchy as it is, it presents fewer real difficulties than any other. The chronicler, like his hero, was not interested in the lands seen, but in the adventures of the ship, and both courses and distances are given with perhaps greater precision and accuracy than any others in these sagas. Probably this arises from the fact that but few copies were ever made of this narrative. It was, as has been already hinted, of little interest to the general reader of a pre-Columbian age; it could appeal only to sailors and navigators, who would be more interested in the accurate preservation of the data supplied by it than would a mere scribe, wholly ignorant or misinformed as to the actual topographical details.

It is worth while noticing how full the narrative is of nautical phraseology and details of interest to sailors only. This confirms one’s impression of its genuineness, as of course the story, if true, must originally have been told by Bjarni or one of his sailors. The lowering and hoisting of sails, the necessity for reefing on the voyage home, together with such expressions as ‘distinguish the airts’ or, as in our translation, ‘get their bearings’, ‘left the land to port and let the sheet turn towards it’, ‘turned the bows from the land’, ‘the land was laid’, i.e. lost below the horizon (landit var vattnat), give this part of the story an extremely nautical colour, while they add little to the general interest of the tale. Moreover we get course and distance in the greatest detail, except during the period of fog, when the sailors themselves could have had no knowledge of what was happening.

The simplest way of dealing with this voyage is to plot it backwards from Greenland. The outward journey is but vaguely indicated, as that of a ship struggling unsuccessfully on a westerly course against northerly gales, and confused by fogs and many days of drifting. The ship was presumably provisioned for a dangerous voyage into unknown seas, yet appears to have been running short of water and other necessaries before the end; one is consequently justified in assuming a really long period for the duration of these adverse influences. The voyage home is, however, recorded with the utmost precision.

Taking the data arrived at in Chapter V for the length of a ‘dægr sigling’, we may plot the distance represented by this unit at about 150 miles. The wind, we are told, was south-west. Plot from Herjulfsness (Sermesok) in the south of Greenland four ‘dægr’ units in a south-westerly direction and then draw a land-form which will serve for the ‘island’ which was the third land seen, follow its coast to a point further south, to cover the coasting voyage described, then plot five more ‘dægr’ units south-west. Lastly mark land on the course at the end of the five days and also two days from the end. The result will be as shown on the shaded portions of the sketch. These indications are quite near enough to the truth to show pretty conclusively that the ‘lands’ were the Barnstable peninsula (Massachusetts), Nova Scotia, and Newfoundland respectively. It is true that if these lands are restored to their correct positions on the map, the courses are only roughly north-east, and the distance from Newfoundland to Greenland is lengthened, but during the last part of the voyage it must be remembered that the wind was much stronger, and the distance between either Cape Freels or Cape St. John in Newfoundland and Sermesok (Herjulfsness) in Greenland is under 720 miles, and could easily be covered in four days and nights under conditions as favourable as those of Thorar Nefjolfson’s voyage to Iceland discussed in Chapter V. The whole account so far is quite consistent and probable.

The problem may now be tackled in a different way. Bjarni, before reaching Greenland, is met by a strong northerly gale. He struggles against it for some time, and, delaying too long the moment for heaving to, is forced to run before the wind. He is driven to the Newfoundland Banks, where he runs into fog, and lowering sail, as we are told he did, he drifts for some time. The set of the current is in the direction of Cape Cod; the wind, working round with the sun as the weather improved, would tend to drive him in the same direction. There is accordingly no difficulty in supposing him to have first sighted land somewhere on the Barnstable peninsula in the neighbourhood of Cape Cod. The description given of this land, while not distinctive, is certainly not inconsistent with the conclusion arrived at.

Now Bjarni is entirely taken up with the idea of getting back to Greenland. Where is he? He has been sailing for a long time in an attempt to get westward; he is probably to the west of his destination. Moreover there is an unknown shore to the west or north of him, to which he must give a wide berth. The visible change in the altitude of the Pole-star or the mid-day sun, and the difference in the length of the day, are data which show an experienced sailor that he is a long way too far south. He must get away from the unknown coast into the open sea, and he must go east and north. Sailing therefore on a course slightly to the north of east, he sights in two days another land, the south-western projection of Nova Scotia, ‘low-lying, and covered with wood.’ This is not the least like Greenland: he sails away again on the same course. The shore, trending here to the northward, sinks out of sight, but after about 500 miles of open sea covered in three ‘dægr’ he sights some part of the south coast of the Avalon peninsula of Newfoundland. It is a bleak-looking coast, and there are icebergs about; moreover, though Bjarni’s reckoning still makes him too far south, the crew have already been grumbling, and it must be proved to their satisfaction that this is not Greenland. As regards the ice, I am of course aware that the saga uses the word ‘jökul’, which suggests glaciers, and it may well be that this is an embroidery on the part of the author, accustomed to associate glaciers with any desolate landscape. ‘Jökul’, however, can also mean merely ice, and is so used in Gretti’s Saga and elsewhere. Icebergs, according to the King’s Mirror, were known to Greenlanders as ‘falljöklar’. There may be some confusion here. Still, there would be bergs about, and the appearance of the country would be more Arctic; the place had better be explored a bit. Accordingly Bjarni follows the coast till he convinces himself and his crew that this place is merely an island. Probably he came to this conclusion on rounding the Avalon peninsula; possibly he sailed as far as Cape Freels or slightly further. It is less likely that he sailed through the Strait of Belle Isle, and so conclusively demonstrated the insular character of Newfoundland, for, if so, he could hardly have avoided sighting the Labrador coast, which he evidently never saw. That the Norsemen, without carrying their investigation so far, should have come to the conclusion that what they saw was an island is not in the least remarkable, when it is remembered that for nearly 100 years after its rediscovery Newfoundland was regarded, owing to the broken and indented character of its coastline, as an archipelago, and is so depicted on the earlier charts.[99]

Anyhow, Bjarni came to the conclusion that this ‘third land’ was an island. There is nothing conventional in the statement; it is not suggested of the other lands, and the fact that the island comes into the story in its proper place is a strong confirmation of its accuracy. Having satisfied himself and his crew that this was not Greenland, Bjarni could fall back with renewed confidence on his own reckoning, and so reach his destination. That he did so with speed and precision might give cause for surprise, were there not many well-authenticated instances in Icelandic literature of men who, after drifting about, the sport of adverse winds and fogs for a long time, retained to the last sufficient knowledge of their position to enable them to return home. It was a creditable feat of seamanship, and we may leave Bjarni with a greater feeling of respect than his contemporaries seem to have felt for him, whatever his shortcomings as an explorer may have been. One point alone in Bjarni’s voyage may at first sight be regarded with suspicion. This is the exact correspondence between the number of days sailed and the number of the land reached. They sail two days to the second land, three to the third, and four to the fourth. As has been shown, however, in working out the voyage, this is not an impossible coincidence. I think it is not without importance to note that what is called ‘the fourth land’ is not a land ejusdem generis with the others, but is Bjarni’s original objective, Greenland, which would naturally be so called. This looks to me rather as if the coincidence above referred to was noted, and used as a memoria technica for the time occupied on the voyage.

Leif.

Leif’s voyage may be dealt with shortly. The description of Helluland is open to the suspicion that it has been coloured by the imagination of the saga-writer. Snowy hills in Labrador may account for the ‘great glaciers’, but it looks like a feature borrowed from Greenland to emphasize the forbidding character of the landscape. The reason given for the name, Helluland, may easily be founded upon the name itself. However, as stated in the preceding chapter, it does not much matter whether the landfall in Helluland was Labrador or Newfoundland, as, before the discovery of the Strait of Belle Isle, both would presumably be regarded as one country by an explorer coasting south. Leif’s Markland, as already suggested (p. 232), sounds much more like Nova Scotia than Newfoundland.

Now as to Wineland. The Flatey Book tells us that Leif, having arrived on the shores of Wineland, landed at once, and conducted no further exploration, except in the immediate vicinity. The passage recording the eagerness of the men to get to shore is very convincing, and we are probably justified in accepting it. In any case we have no evidence that Leif’s expedition proceeded further along the coast of Wineland after his arrival. In fact, the statement that it did not is to some extent confirmed by the opinion, attributed to Thorvald, that the new country had been insufficiently explored; it is also borne out by the circumstance that Karlsefni and his crew manifestly expected to find the locality of Leif’s camp somewhere in the neighbourhood of Keelness, where they first arrived, but were uncertain as to which side of this promontory it was situated. (See account of Karlsefni’s voyage in the Saga of Eric the Red.) We are told that Karlsefni divided his forces, one party sailing north of Keelness while the other proceeded in the opposite direction. Clearly therefore Keelness, as the point of departure selected, was supposed to be in the neighbourhood of Leif’s landfall, and this confirms the view indicated by the Flatey Book that Leif stayed at a point near that first sighted in Wineland.

It is difficult therefore to accept Mr. Babcock’s view that Leif conducted a long coasting voyage along the shores of the United States; at least it may be said that there is no positive evidence to support such a theory.

So far we may treat the Flatey account as correct. The report brought home by Leif, however, seems to have been more concerned with the discoveries made on land than with the details of the coast in the neighbourhood of his camp. Hence, as has been pointed out earlier, the Flatey Book, which erroneously supposed all landfalls in Wineland to be the same, proceeds to draw the description required from some abridged account of Karlsefni’s voyage. Hóp is quite clearly indicated, and this place we know was only reached by Karlsefni after a long coasting voyage.

When we come to the consideration of the situation of Hóp, in connexion with Karlsefni’s expedition (see next chapter), we shall, I think, be perfectly justified in supplementing the description of this place from what we are told of Leif’s landfall. The two places are obviously identical. But the fact that this is the case puts a full stop to any attempt to identify Leif’s camp in Wineland. If, as I think is the case, Thorvald’s voyage took place as narrated in the Flatey Book, it may throw some light on his predecessor’s discoveries, since Thorvald, having the benefit of his brother’s advice, and probably several members of the same crew, would be very likely to arrive at the same destination. If so, as will be seen later, some place in the neighbourhood of Chatham harbour on the heel of the Barnstable peninsula seems indicated. But of course such an identification involves a good deal of conjecture.

A word may be said here as to the account given of the discovery of the vines, which has been severely criticized. It may well have been touched up, but the very ignorance of the nature of vines which is attributed to the saga-writer makes part of the story inherently probable. The Greenlanders knew nothing of vines, and might not have recognized them on sight. If, on the other hand, they had with them a native of a wine country, the discovery is explained. This point has impressed Neckel, who goes so far as to say that Icelanders or Greenlanders of the period would certainly not have recognized grapes on seeing them. Preferring Hauk’s version to that of the Flatey Book, he is forced to the hypothesis that the original discoverer was the priest who accompanied Leif on his missionary journey, and who may have been a foreigner from a wine country, though as Olaf drew largely for such men on the British Isles, Neckel’s conjecture is rather a wild one. Now the difficulty is one which may strike a modern commentator, though it does not seem to have troubled many of them, but it does not appear to me at all likely that a writer of the saga period considered the question so deeply as to invent a German to account for the discovery. Tyrker in fact meets a difficulty which is only apparent to a critical type of mind not then in existence. Tyrker is therefore probable; in any case such a man was better qualified than half-naked Scots like Hake and Hekja, whose forte was rather activity than botany.

As to Tyrker’s drunkenness, the circumstance that he spoke German, which happened to be his native tongue, would not perhaps be considered conclusive at Bow Street, yet possibly the saga-writer may have meant to indicate intoxication. Nor is such intoxication necessarily a figment of the historian. We must remember that Thorhall the Hunter, as one gathers from his satiric verses, had evidently been promised a drink in Wineland, and it therefore seems likely that some crude sort of wine was actually made. This again calls for the presence of someone with experience of wine-making, an art for which the priest, one would think, would possess neither the capacity nor the inclination. The task would not, however, be difficult. As Mr. Babcock has reminded us (p. 93), the Historie of Travaile into Virginia asserts that at a later date ‘twenty gallons at one time have sometimes been made, without any other help than crushing the grapes in the hand, which letting to settle five or six days hath in the drawing forth proved strong and heady.’ In further support of the theory that wine was made, one may refer to the words of Adam of Bremen,—‘producing the best wine.’ Who more likely to have tried the method alluded to above than Tyrker of the vineyards? And he may well have kept the experiment dark till he had put his brew to a practical test.

But none of this really matters; the bare fact of the discovery of grapes, which is abundantly corroborated, is the important thing.

Thorvald.

Whether or no Thorvald Ericson was the leader of an independent expedition, as stated in the Flatey Book, or a companion of Karlsefni, as the rival versions make him, there can be no doubt that the voyage on which he met with his death is described in all the accounts in language which shows substantial agreement as to the topographical facts. It is therefore possible, and even advisable, to deal with Thorvald’s explorations as if no question of their connexion with Karlsefni’s expedition had in fact arisen.

Thorvald’s base appears to have been situated on a coast facing approximately south, along which, we are told, two voyages of exploration were conducted. The first of these, according to the Flatey Book, was carried out in a small boat, and lay to the west of the camp. The expression used, ‘fyrir vestan landit’, might also be understood to mean off or along a coast facing west, but this interpretation is excluded by the fact that an island lying to the west (vestarliga) was visited, and also by the absence of any coast fulfilling the required conditions on the eastern seaboard of America, except the Nova Scotian border of the Bay of Fundy. This last does not suit in any way, for we are told ‘there were many islands and many shoals’, a circumstantial statement unlikely to have been invented, and therefore reliable. Very shallow water indeed is indicated in a report derived from persons in a small boat, whose draught must have been insignificant. Now the name Bay of Fundy is said to be a corruption of Baya Fonda (deep bay), and the details given in the Coast Pilot confirm the appropriateness of such a name. Champlain moreover states explicitly, on passing Cape Fourchu northwards, that ‘this coast is clear, without islands, rocks or shoals; so that in our judgment vessels can securely go there.’

The only other feature in the description of the saga, ‘well-wooded sandy shores’, is hardly more appropriate to a coast which is mainly bold and rocky.

We are safe, then, in assuming a starting-point on a coast facing south. To the east of the base the land must soon have turned towards the north, to fulfil the conditions required by Thorvald’s second voyage. So far there are two possibilities presented by the narrative: the south coast of Nova Scotia, and that of the United States to the west of Cape Cod. The latter exactly fulfils the conditions demanded by the first or westerly voyage. In the words of the Coast Pilot, ‘from the southern and principal entrance to Chatham harbour, the coast is low and sandy, with well-wooded hills in the background, taking a generally westward direction.’ It is, as the chart shows, a mass of shoals, and there are a considerable number of quite important islands, including Nantucket, Martha’s Vineyard, and the Elizabeth Islands, in the vicinity. In fact it would be hard to find a place more accurately fitting the description given. The voyage, being conducted in a small boat, was probably not a very long one.

As regards Nova Scotia, there are along this coast also many islands and a considerable number of shoals, but the coast itself, treated as a whole, is decidedly less appropriate to the description in the saga.

In considering Thorvald’s final voyage, we may take the descriptions of both authorities together. We should aim, in fact, at finding a locality embodying the highest common factor of both versions. To the point of Keelness both stories agree, the Flatey version saying that Thorvald sailed ‘fyrir austan’, i.e. either turned eastward from his camp or followed an eastward-facing coastline. Both may be true if we consider the starting-point to have lain somewhere on the heel of the Barnstable peninsula. Thorvald would first turn east and then follow the eastern coastline of Cape Cod, to reach ‘the more northerly part of the country’ which, we are told, was his next objective. Eric’s Saga says they sailed north to Keelness, which comes to the same thing. Then, according to the Flatey version, they were wrecked on the point of Keelness, and, after a long stay to carry out the necessary repairs, they turned eastward into a closely adjacent fjord. The fact that it was closely adjacent is important. Eric’s Saga states that on rounding Keelness they bore along to the west of it, which, as Dieserud points out—though with a different intention—should be taken with the phrase which follows, ‘nordr aptr’ (back north), and therefore means a voyage southwards along the west coast of the promontory, not a voyage westwards. Apart from the clue given by the expression ‘back north’, the Icelandic would bear either interpretation.

The same version of the narrative then mentions that they came to a river flowing from east to west, and lay by its southern bank. Now, if we consider Keelness to be Cape Cod, both versions are roughly correct, though the Flatey Book is slightly more so than Eric’s Saga. From the extreme point of Cape Cod the course would lie eastward to the mouth of the Pamet river, which flows westward, but, broadly speaking, the expedition would be following the west coast of the peninsula. In the time of the Pilgrim Fathers all this coast was densely wooded. As to its being a beautiful spot for a home, this may have been Thorvald’s opinion, or an embellishment by the story-teller, who has apparently introduced some fictitious touches here of bodings and warnings. Such a detail need not trouble us. The only objection to the theory is that the Saga of Eric the Red says that they had sailed a long time; if this, however, means from Straumsfjord and not merely from Keelness, it may well be literally true.

The alternative theory, which carries this voyage round Cape Breton Island, in addition to difficulties about the scenery, and such objections as apply to Nova Scotia generally, is open to the criticism that it has altogether to reject the easterly course from the end of the promontory which is mentioned in the Flatey Book. As a rule, in spite of all that is alleged by Storm, the Flatey version, as I have endeavoured to show, is more accurate in its courses than the alternative record; the objection, however, if it stood alone, would no doubt be of small weight. The rejection of the Nova Scotia theory, in fact, involves consideration of the arguments adduced against it throughout, rather than those which apply to this particular point.

It is perhaps worth while to draw attention here to the inconsistency with which the uniped episode is interpolated. The explorers are by the southern bank of a river running from east to west. The uniped comes from the north, and retires in that direction. Consequently the obstacle of a navigable river-mouth lies between this creature and the pursuit which we are told, both in the text and the incorporated verses, immediately took place. The fact appears to be that the river is part of one story (Thorvald’s) and the uniped belongs to another, which some one has tried to edit into conformity, with but slender success.

There seems, in fact, to be a double interpolation here. After Karlsefni has been brought to Straumsfjord with the intention of returning home, the author feels that it is his last chance of working in any odd scraps which he has collected from various sources. Hence, having a description of the death of a son of Eric not previously or otherwise known to him, which seems to have occurred in Wineland, he attributes it to Karlsefni’s expedition, and combines it with a separate anecdote, properly belonging to Karlsefni—but no part of the main saga—which refers to the pursuit of a supposed uniped. Possibly the sole source referring to the uniped on which the author’s imagination worked was the verse incorporated here.

The apparently corrupt but much-discussed passage about the mountains at Hóp and those seen elsewhere will be dealt with later on: it is, I believe, part of the original Karlsefni matter, and has no relation to the voyage of Thorvald. (See next chapter, p. 277.)

VIII. KARLSEFNI’S EXPEDITION

Date.

As has been pointed out in the chapter on the Flatey Book (p. 137), the expedition of Thorfin Karlsefni must have followed those of Leif and the rest of Eric’s family at a considerable interval of time. Though this has not been generally realized, it is not a mere matter of opinion, but rests upon cogent and conclusive evidence when once the known points of chronology are closely examined. Apart from this, it is evident on consideration that it would involve a very curious coincidence if Karlsefni arrived in Greenland exactly at the time when the efforts of Eric’s sons at exploration were exhausted. It is therefore far more unlikely in the case of Karlsefni than in that of Thorvald, assuming the latter to have conducted an independent expedition, that the landfalls were the same as those made by Leif. If we accept Hauk’s version of the story, Leif’s voyage took place in a.d. 1000, and in any case it cannot have been many years later, while 1020 is as early as we can reasonably place Karlsefni’s expedition. For this reason, apart from any others, it is right to assign to this voyage a separate chapter and independent consideration.

Greenland to Helluland.

Karlsefni’s starting-point, we are told, was not from the neighbourhood of Eric’s home at Brattahlid, but from the Western Settlement (Godthaab), and the ‘Bear Islands’. The latter name was apparently applied to Disko, far to the northward, but it is difficult to suppose that Thorfin sailed so far in the opposite direction to his objective. It is more probable that the name refers to some islands in the immediate neighbourhood of Godthaab. One has only to remember the frequent occurrence of such local names as Bjørnuren, Bjørnlien, in Norway, to realize that nomenclature of this character is often repeated, indeed one need not go outside this saga for an instance of such a repetition (in the neighbourhood of Markland).

Possibly the Western Settlement was visited for recruiting purposes. The visitors from Iceland, as we are told, only accounted for 80 men out of the 160 eventually taking part in the expedition; the original Icelandic crews, after a winter in Greenland, would probably need to be brought up to strength, and the better part of 100 volunteers must have been difficult to collect in so small a colony.[100] Mr. Babcock, p. 97, seems to think that the shortest way to Labrador via the north was already known in Greenland, and he also, curiously enough, considers it the safest route. On the question of danger there is room for difference of opinion, but it may be pointed out that progress from north to south or vice versa is frequently impeded by ice till a late date in the summer. The very slow Moravian mission ship, sailing from London, often reaches the stations on the Labrador coast before the Newfoundland steamer service, since, sailing from east to west, she travels across instead of along the ice-barrier. Karlsefni’s ultimate and principal objective being to the south, he would hardly have deliberately undertaken so dangerous, unexplored, and roundabout a course, even if he had known of the possibility, which seems extremely doubtful. As a basis for calculation we may therefore safely put the point of departure in the neighbourhood of Godthaab.

From this point we are told that the expedition sailed for two days with a north wind, i.e. in a southerly direction. It should be pointed out that the map occurring opposite page 106 of Mr. Babcock’s treatise is very misleading as to the courses which it suggests. It contains no meridians, and is tilted westward at an angle of nearly 40 degrees, with the result that the Western Settlement of Greenland is brought almost exactly north of the neighbourhood of Nain on the Labrador coast, which is the point selected by the author for Karlsefni’s landfall in Helluland. As a matter of fact there are not far short of 10 degrees of longitude between the two places, and the course between them is very far to the west of south. Mr. Babcock appears to have chosen this point on the coast of Labrador in order to retain the statement made as to the voyage having occupied but two days. The distance being about 450 miles, the author is compelled to assume a speed of nearly ten miles an hour, in support of which he cites statistics as to the speed of yachts and other modern sailing vessels. Now, as we have seen in Chapter V, this seems far beyond the capacity of ancient Icelandic ships, and, since on this point we have definite evidence, it is impossible that the time can have been correctly stated, even if we suppose the very nearest point on the Labrador coast to have been the land first sighted. It is moreover difficult to suppose that Karlsefni made the nearest point; he had no clue to its position, and his ultimate objective, for which he had a guide in the directions of his predecessor, Leif, lay far to the south.

Nor is a long coasting voyage along the shores of Helluland in any way suggested by the text; in fact it is inconsistent with it. In the summer, or still more in the spring, Karlsefni would almost certainly have been greatly impeded by ice off the Labrador coast, but no mention is made of any such feature. We must therefore either abandon the figure, two days, altogether, which—having regard to its repetition later on—is possibly the right course, or we must substitute some plausible alternative. Reeves suggests ‘sjau’ (seven) for ‘tvau’ (two), but in the manuscripts numbers seem to be usually given in figures. A possible amendment would be five (u), as, if the light stroke connecting the verticals in writing this figure had become erased by time, íí and u would be almost identical in Icelandic manuscript. This would be equivalent to 750 miles at average speeds, and would bring land more nearly to the south of the starting-point well within range.[101] It is, however, safer on the whole to decide that we have no reliable guide to the distance.

The question of the situation of Karlsefni’s landfall in Helluland has been already discussed (Chapter VI, p. 230), and we can only adhere to the conclusion there arrived at, viz. that there is a slight balance of probability in favour of Labrador as against Newfoundland, but that both countries would almost certainly have been assumed to be one and the same. Anyone who doubts this probability has only to look at the maps reproduced on p. 364 of vol. 2 of Dr. Nansen’s In Northern Mists, where the same confusion is shown to have been made in the case of Corte Real.

Markland and Bjarney.

The question of Markland has also been treated at an earlier stage, and the improbability of the south-easterly course on which the identification of this country with Newfoundland mainly depends has been pointed out. Whatever theories we adopt as to the situation of the various lands, it is clear that the courses given in the Saga of Eric the Red and Hauk’s Book must at some point be abandoned. For example, Storm identifies the coast of Nova Scotia with that followed by Karlsefni after arrival at Keelness. The lie of this coast is a great deal nearer west than south, which is the direction given, and the same applies to the coast of New England after passing Cape Cod, which seems to be the alternative. A uniform southerly course is excluded. Again, two days of open sea from Newfoundland to Cape Breton, or from Cape Sable to Cape Cod, especially the former, would indicate a westerly rather than a southerly course for the expedition. If, on the other hand, we assume the explorers to have coasted Newfoundland to Cape Ray, the course to Nova Scotia is corrected at the expense of the distance. The upshot of all this is that, as already indicated, a course given in this version of the saga is a most unsatisfactory piece of evidence on which to found an important conclusion. Moreover, Eric’s Saga is silent as to this deflexion to the south-east, which consequently rests upon Hauk’s unsupported authority. This editor may merely have thought that, as the island next mentioned lay to the south-east, such a course was necessarily implied.

On this island off the shore of Markland to the south-east we are told that the explorers killed a bear, conferring in consequence the name Bjarney (Bear Island) on the place in question. It has been generally assumed that this must necessarily mean a polar bear. But Karlsefni was acquainted with Norway, where the European bear still exists and must then have been common, so that one would think that a bear which was not white would equally be called a bear. I would further suggest that this would be the case even if no bears other than the polar species had previously been known to members of the expedition. But secondly, supposing a polar bear to be meant, there does not seem any violent improbability in the idea that one should be found, in the eleventh century, so far south as Nova Scotia. At a far later date, Arctic fauna had a much more southerly habitat than at present. Walrus were regularly hunted in the Gulf of St. Lawrence, as is shown by a number of passages in Hakluyt. As to the polar bear itself, its restriction to its present northerly habitat appears to be even more recent. In Labrador, as far south and inland as Eagle River Falls, Sandwich Bay, Captain Cartwright records in his diary under date July 22, 1778: ‘Numbers were in sight. I counted thirty-two white bears, and three black ones; but there were certainly many more.’ In earlier days Jacques Cartier found a polar bear between Newfoundland and the Funk Islands, while both Cabot and Corte Real found the same animal on what was probably Newfoundland, and cannot certainly have been far north of it. It may further be pointed out that white bearskins are mentioned more than once in the Algonquin Legends of New England and Nova Scotia, collected by C. G. Leland. As to bears on islands, whether white or black, Cartier found them on Brion Island, so there is no improbability in this feature. If a polar bear is meant, Sable Island seems a possible location for Bjarney, but in any case there are many islands off the Nova Scotian coast which would fulfil the conditions.

Furdustrands.

Until, however, the expedition reaches Keelness, we are on very uncertain ground, and it would be imprudent to insist upon any definite conclusion. We may in fact, at this stage, so far as our information hitherto has taken us, be either at the north-eastern extremity of Nova Scotia or in the vicinity of Cape Cod, according as our identification of Helluland and Markland agrees with Storm or otherwise. We may however fairly say that the choice lies between these two localities. Any other theory breaks down at the first touch of criticism.

But when the description of Keelness given in the saga is compared with what we know of the Nova Scotian coastline, one meets at once with a very formidable objection to Storm’s theory. For here began Furdustrands, the Wonderful Beaches, so called from their great length, and thus described:—‘It was a desolate place, and there were long beaches and sands there.... They gave the beaches a name, calling them Furdustrands, because the sail past them was long.’ It appears too, as already hinted, that this feature was sufficiently marked to give rise to the application of the name to a large district, extending at least to Straumsfjord (cf. second song of Thorhall the Hunter, see also p. 227).

Mr. Babcock’s Theory.

Now the coast of Nova Scotia cannot, to an unprejudiced eye, be said to comprise any continuous beach of a really remarkable length. On the contrary, it is both indented and rocky. Mr. Babcock clearly sees this difficulty; his remarks on the subject have been already referred to (p. 234). He requires a continuous stretch of at least 100 miles for Furdustrands, and this estimate compares favourably with those put forward by Storm and most of his adherents. Now, to meet the objection which is here raised, Mr. Babcock postulates a rise in the Nova Scotian coastline since the eleventh century sufficient to account for what is otherwise a fatal discrepancy in its present appearance. He frankly admits that there is no direct evidence of such a phenomenon, and indeed that ‘locally there is some scientific opinion that this probably has not occurred’. But this is not the most that can be said. In the first place, the early explorers who followed on the rediscovery of the country found the coast exactly as it is to-day. The upheaval postulated must therefore have taken place, if at all, within an even shorter period than that allowed by Mr. Babcock. Thus Champlain writes: ‘All the coast which we passed along from Cape Sable to this place (Canso) is moderately high and rocky, in most places bordered by numerous islands and breakers.’ Of Cape Breton Denys says (Green Island to Louisburg), ‘All the coast is nothing but rocks.’ Thenceforward ‘nothing but rocks’ is a phrase constantly repeated, but one looks in vain for any mention of a beach. Later on, ‘leaving there (St. Ann’s harbour) and going to Niganiche (Ingonish) one passes eight leagues of coast having shores of rock extremely high and steep as a wall.... Niganiche is not a bit better.’ Similarly right on to Cape North. We have not much room left for these long and wonderful beaches, which so struck the Norsemen immediately on their arrival at Keelness, and which were so impressively long to sail past. It is true, as we have seen, that there are white sands near the south-western end of the peninsula, but the numerous indentations break up the coastline, and besides, the description requires a cape facing a ship approaching from more northerly latitudes.

In the second place, had there been such a change as that suggested by Mr. Babcock, at so recent a date, there must necessarily have been positive geological evidence of it. When a beach rises from the sea, particularly if it be of such great extent as is required in the present case, traces of the former sea-level remain, in the form of raised beaches, water-worn rocks, or remains of marine fauna. In Nova Scotia such things are found indeed, but dating from a period far antecedent to that with which we are at present concerned. The formation appears to be contemporaneous with the existence of some form of mammoth, whose remains have been found, and in many places the course of these beach-deposits is cut through by river valleys which have been formed since. (See Dawson, Acadian Geology.) Now if these vestiges, dating from a period antecedent to the existence of human remains, are still to be traced, it is clearly impossible that no evidence should survive of what is alleged to have happened at a date which is, geologically speaking, yesterday. Mr. Babcock’s theory must accordingly be abandoned, in spite of his careful, ingenious, and elaborate argument, and, this being so, we are still faced with an insuperable difficulty in the way of associating Furdustrands with Nova Scotia.

Cape Cod as Keelness.

Now let us turn to the alternative suggested, and consider Cape Cod to be Keelness. Karlsefni has now indeed been brought to a coast meriting the name bestowed, ‘a desolate place, with long beaches and sands.’ Not only does the Cape Cod or Barnstable peninsula, as Horsford saw, comply with the description, but beyond this point the name Furdustrands might appropriately be applied to nearly the whole Atlantic coastline of the United States. Passing the shores and sand-hills of Cape Cod and Monomoy, from Chatham at the heel of the promontory to Nobska Point at the entrance to Buzzard’s Bay, the coast, as the United States Pilot describes it (p. 341), ‘is low and sandy.’ If the course lay to the south of Nantucket and Martha’s Vineyard the same description would apply. Here there is a slight break formed by the indentations of Buzzard’s and Narragansett Bays, but the former is masked from the sea, until passed, by the Elizabeth Islands, and the latter by the islands at its mouth; the prospect throughout was an unattractive one, and these bays, from the sea, might easily pass unnoticed, while from Point Judith, west of Narragansett Bay, to the entrance of Long Island Sound, by Watch Hill Point, there is still, in the words of the Coast Pilot, ‘a low beach with lagoons inside and higher wooded land at the back.’ Until arrival at Straumsfjord, no attempt was made to land. As Mr. Babcock notices, the episode of Hake and Hekja is obviously an interpolation from another source, as no vines had been found up to the time of Thorhall’s versified comments on the subject. We have consequently to look for but one indentation, that presented by Straumsfjord. The answer to Mr. Dieserud’s objection to Cape Cod that the wild grape flourishes there close to the sea, and must therefore have been found, is that no landing was made there.[102] Karlsefni, unattracted by the prospect, sailed on, and consequently the discovery was deferred. ‘They went their ways, till interrupted by a fjord’, so one might almost interpret the language of the saga. In any case, the likeliest fjord to attract attention on a coasting voyage would be one lying right in the track of the ship. And such a fjord, if my conjecture is right, was Straumsfjord.

Straumsfjord.

Dead in the course of a ship following the coast westward from Cape Cod lies Long Island Sound. Though not, strictly speaking, a fjord, it has, until the East River channel, leading to New York, is explored, exactly the appearance of one. It is very narrow at each end, and its greatest breadth, fifteen to sixteen miles, is only maintained for about twenty miles in its central part. Until the sound was explored by Adriaan Block in 1614, it was probably not known that Long Island was separated from the mainland.

At the mouth of the sound is an important island, Fisher’s Island, with an extreme length of six miles, between which and the less important Gull Islands runs a strong tidal stream, appropriately known as the Race. This is sufficiently formidable to necessitate the warning of the Coast Pilot,—‘Sailing vessels in the vicinity of the Race, or navigating along the southern side of the Sound near Gull and Plum Islands, should give them a wide berth when the ebb stream is running, or they may be drawn into one of the passages before aware of their danger.’ ‘There is always a strong tide-rip in the Race except for a period of about thirty minutes slack between the turn of the streams.’

Long Island is of interest to naturalists as a meeting-place for equatorial and arctic species of birds, and was a centre of the whaling industry as late as the first part of the nineteenth century, and Douglas, as already mentioned, in his Summary of the Planting of the British North American Settlements (1760) mentions specially that small whales affect the flats of Long Island. Altogether this sound appears to fulfil in every respect the requirements of Straumsfjord. The mainland immediately to the north of Fisher’s Island is hilly, though the mention of mountains at Straumsfjord may have another significance, which will be dealt with later on.

Now if we assume that the dispute between Karlsefni and the unruly Thorhall took place on Fisher’s Island or the mainland near it, the arguments of the two men would run somewhat as follows: Thorhall asserts that Leif’s landfall in Wineland must lie to the north of Keelness (Cape Cod), because Leif could not possibly have arrived on the coast which the later expedition had just explored, after leaving Markland, without previously sighting land. Karlsefni, on the other hand, regarding Keelness as the northernmost extremity of the country, has observed that from that narrow promontory the land has widened indefinitely as its southern coast was explored, and his view ‘that the region which lay more to the south was the larger’ may be paraphrased thus: the northern extremity of the country was obviously so narrow that Leif’s landfall could hardly have passed unobserved, whereas, here, to the south, the country is of enormous extent, so that, while we know everything there is to the north, to the south we may find anything. This appears to me a more reasonable explanation of this rather obscure passage than Dr. Nansen’s, viz. that it ‘was evidently due to the assumption that it (Wineland) was connected with Africa’.[103] Of such an assumption no real trace can be found, except in a later Icelandic geography, ‘thence it is not far to Wineland the Good, which some think is connected with Africa.’ To a geographer, anxious to place his countries within the limits of the known world, such a theory would be eminently natural. Confused by classical notions of the all-encircling Mare Oceanum, and hampered by the limitations imposed by early religious orthodoxy, primitive science would tend to deny the possibility of land connected with the known world on the farther side of the Atlantic; and to Africa, as the most westerly part of the world to the south of Iceland, the newly discovered lands would naturally be attributed; but it is hardly likely that Karlsefni would be hampered by geographical theories—at any rate there is no real trace of it in the saga.

The Situation of Hóp.

Coming now to the furthest limits of Karlsefni’s expedition, at Hóp, it is obvious that we are provided in this case with a description which affords us more promising data than those with which we have hitherto been forced to be content. If we combine the information given in Eric’s Saga with that provided by the Flatey Book account of Leif’s camp, which clearly refers to the same place, the description becomes even more distinctive.

We need a land-locked bay, largely barred by shoals, guarded on one side of the entrance by a cape facing north, and on the other by an island, or something which might pass for one on a hasty visit. Into this bay a river must flow, which expands into a lake-like widening near its mouth, and then narrows, so as to divide the lake from the bay. This river must flow in from the north, as the Skrælings who visited the camp are said to have come from the south. A minor point, which is not so reliable as the remainder, is the mention of salmon in the river, which is included in the Flatey Book description.

Now it is manifestly not every river-estuary or land-locked bay which will conform to such a description in all, or even in nearly all, particulars. If therefore we find, in a suitable part of the American coast, a place which fulfils every one of these requirements, we may make our identification with something approaching certainty.

Now if the entrance of Long Island Sound be accepted as the site of the Straumsfjord base, the furthest limit of the exploration, at Hóp, can be made to fit the requirements of the story in a really remarkable way. I am convinced that it is a mistake to look for all the places mentioned in Karlsefni’s voyage within the restricted limits which seem to have contented other students of the subject. It seems to me illogical, when we hear of voyages of two or three days covering very considerable distances, to suppose when the saga says, ‘they sailed a long time,’ that we can be content to look for all the places mentioned in the course of a year’s exploration within a few hours’ sail of one another. It took a long time to sail past Furdustrands, and it was a long way from Straumsfjord to Hóp. The latter place is therefore to be sought about as far on from Straumsfjord as Straumsfjord was from Keelness. One has, moreover, to bear in mind, in searching for likely landfalls, that it is by no means every inlet which is likely to attract the notice of sailors on a coasting voyage. Openings which lie directly in their course, of which the situation selected for Straumsfjord is an example, are really far more likely to be explored. Now, about as far to the west of the entrance to Long Island Sound as Cape Cod lies to the east of it, the direction of the coast-line undergoes an abrupt change. And exactly in the angle formed by this change of direction is a bay, fulfilling all the requirements of Hóp. It is a land-locked estuary, largely barred by shoals, with a river running into it from the north, which widens into a lake among hills a short distance from the mouth. The approach involves a westerly course between a cape running north and an island. This is the bay or estuary of the Hudson River, constituting the modern approach to New York.

This was described by its first recognized discoverer, Verezzano, in 1524, in the following words: ‘We found a very pleasant situation among some steep hills, through which a very large river, deep at its mouth, forced its way into the sea.... We passed up this river, about half a league, when we found it formed a most beautiful lake, three leagues in circuit.’

Juet, in his account of Hudson’s visit to the same place, describes the estuary itself as a lake, and adds, ‘the mouth of that land hath many shoalds, and the sea breaketh on them as it is cast out of the mouth of it.... To the northward off us we saw high hills.... This is a very good land to fall with, and a pleasant land to see’.

De Laet, in his account of Hudson’s discovery, states, ‘he (Hudson) found there also vines and grapes, ... from all of which there is sufficient reason to conclude that it is a pleasant and fruitful country.’ Even the salmon, reported in the Flatey account of Leif’s voyage, in which, as has been pointed out, the description is largely borrowed from Karlsefni’s Hóp, appear formerly to have existed here. At any rate, Hudson is stated to have found them in this river, both by Juet and De Laet.

The Mountains at Hóp.

It is claimed that the analysis of Karlsefni’s voyage which has been attempted above presents no real difficulty, and is open to far fewer objections than any alternative theory. It is inconsistent with no fact alleged in the saga with the exception of the southerly course, and this, as has been shown, has to be abandoned on any hypothesis. It is the only theory which really gets over the Furdustrands difficulty; it provides a Straumsfjord and a Hóp which are both inherently probable landfalls, and which correspond in every particular with the details given. It does not seem to me that nearly as much can be said for the accepted theory of Nova Scotia, or for any other alternative. One further point must now be referred to. At the end of the section of Eric’s Saga and Hauk’s Book dealing with the last voyage and death of Thorvald Ericson comes a sentence which is quite differently rendered in the two versions. According to the Saga of Eric the Red, it runs, ‘They intended to explore all the mountains, those which were at Hóp, and those which they found.’ Hauk, however, gives it as follows: ‘They considered that the mountains which were at Hóp and those which they now found were all one, and so were close opposite to one another, and that the distance from Straumsfjord was the same in both directions.’ The word translated ‘intended’ in the first case, and ‘considered’ in the second, is the same, and the first part of the sentence is therefore nearly identical in the original, except for the omission of the words ‘at kanna’ (to explore) in Hauk’s rendering.

From this passage, as given by Hauk, it has been understood by Storm and some other authorities that after rounding Keelness the explorers came upon mountains which they imagined, rightly or wrongly, to belong to the same range as others which they had met with at Hóp.

Now the first point which occurs to one in this connexion is that the passage in question had, at an earlier date than that of any extant manuscript of the text, already become so corrupt as to be unintelligible. We can hardly regard the later half of the sentence as a gloss by Hauk: it is not characteristic of his work to make so considerable an addition to the matter copied. Still less can we suppose that the compilers of Eric’s Saga, who never retained any prejudice in favour of making sense of a passage, introduced the words ‘to explore’. It looks, in fact, as if at a very early date two inconsistent attempts had been made to interpret a phrase the meaning of which was already dubious. It is therefore a very dangerous passage on which to found any important conclusion.

Secondly, as has been already suggested, the passage about Thorvald bears all the marks of an interpolation. It comes between two sentences referring to the return to Straumsfjord which look as if the saga-writer were taking up the thread of his principal theme after a digression. It follows immediately after what is obviously information from a fresh source—the passage beginning ‘Some men say’. It introduces Thorvald suddenly for the first time, if we accept the purer version of Eric’s Saga (cf. p. 126). It is embellished with a speech plagiarized from elsewhere, a form of treatment without parallel in the saga. Towards the end of the suggested interpolation the words ‘they went back’ are twice repeated in Eric’s Saga. In these circumstances it seems fairly safe to regard this passage as having formed no part of the original story.

But if this be so, the sentence now under consideration, which mentions Hóp and Straumsfjord, cannot belong to the interpolated matter, but must be part of the original saga, and in this case it cannot refer to the topography of Thorvald’s voyage, but to the relation between Straumsfjord and Hóp.

In the third place, it seems unlikely that unscientific explorers would recognize two ends of a range of mountains as belonging to one another if separated by a long sea-voyage; the phrase ‘þat staediz mjök svá á’ (were therefore close opposite one another) seems to refer to a closer connexion, such as that of two sides of the same hill, which would be much more readily recognized.

The conclusions to be drawn are therefore:

1. The passage is too corrupt to allow of any important argument being based on it.

2. It is at least doubtful whether it refers to Thorvald’s voyage at all.

What follows is therefore put forward rather as an interesting suggestion than as a vital part of the main argument. But assuming that the sentence under consideration refers to the relation between Straumsfjord and Hóp, we know that mountains or hills were features of the landscape of both these places, and such features are not elsewhere specifically mentioned. If I am right in supposing Straumsfjord to be Long Island Sound and Hóp the estuary or lower waters of the Hudson, it would be quite correct to say that hills visible from the one place would also be visible from the other. If, as seems probable, the camp or base at Straumsfjord lay near the island at its mouth, it would also be true to say that any such mountain would be about the same distance from that camp, whether approached via Long Island Sound or by a route to the south of Long Island. As the explorers did nothing else, till the first winter at Straumsfjord, except investigate their surroundings, it is more than likely that they cruised sufficiently far up the sound to be able to see hills also visible from the Hudson valley. If this interpretation could be relied on it would therefore afford a strong confirmation of the topography suggested in this chapter, and I feel that this may be the correct explanation of the passage. It is safer, however, to treat the sentence as irremediably corrupt, and to conclude that the information it appears to contain may be a mere gloss, or may express a mistaken notion of the explorers. It is one of the many points as to which certainty is impossible, but it equally cannot afford a valid argument against theories which would otherwise be acceptable.

IX. AFTERMATH AND CONCLUSION.

‘And here’, in the words of Eric’s Saga, ‘this story ends.’ The attempt at colonization had proved a failure; the snows of Iceland and Greenland were thenceforward to be preferred to the chance of frequent collision with the Wineland Skrælings. No further attempt at a permanent settlement seems ever to have been made.

It by no means follows that the newly-discovered countries remained unvisited. A land full of timber, lying but a few days’ sail from Greenland, where such a commodity was unobtainable, must almost certainly have tempted the members of Eric’s small colony at any rate to occasional visits. Of these we could not, in the nature of things, expect to hear much. Always more or less isolated by its dangerous coast and the little-known sea which separated it from Iceland, Greenland became after 1294 almost entirely cut off from the land of saga by the Norwegian royal edict making trade with the former country a crown monopoly. The minor enterprises of the colonists were, moreover, of little or no interest to Icelandic audiences.[104]

Entries in the Annals.

From the prevailing obscurity two attempts at revisiting the New World emerge in the Icelandic Annals. The first of these may indeed have been intended as a prelude to further efforts at colonization. In 1121, Eric, bishop of Greenland, sailed for Wineland. Of his intentions or subsequent fate nothing is known, but we may imagine a bold resolve to make an end of the one obstacle to settlement by converting the Skrælings to Christianity. Anyhow, Bishop Eric set out, and never returned, his episcopal seat being filled in a few years’ time. It is true that the bishop is credited by the Danish poet Lyskander (1609) with complete success both in his missionary and his colonial enterprise, but of this there is no evidence, and we must regard the statement as poetical licence.

The second visit recorded is of less importance, but may well have been more successful in its objects. In 1347, we are told in the Annals, there arrived in Iceland from Greenland a ship, which struck the Icelanders as being of exceptionally small size. She had lost her anchor, but contained a crew of 17 or 18 men, who had been to Markland, but on the way back to Greenland had been driven by stress of weather to the harbour where they arrived.

Probably no very unique enterprise is here chronicled. It was but the accident occasioning the visit of this ship to Iceland which preserved this voyage from oblivion. ‘Vixere fortes ante Agamemnona.’

The New Land.

No other clear reference is to be found to subsequent voyages to the lands named in the sagas of Wineland. In 1285, however, the Annals mention a discovery of ‘New Land’, which is variously recorded in different MSS. as follows, taken in order of date:

1. Land was discovered to the west of Iceland.

2. The Down Islands were discovered.

3. Helgi’s sons Adalbrand and Thorvald discovered the New Land.

4. Helgi’s sons sailed to the uninhabited parts of Greenland.

This discovery appears to have created no small stir at the time. The King of Norway was interested, and commissioned one Land-Rolf to go to Iceland and organize an expedition for exploring purposes. Rolf, according to the Annals, sailed to Iceland in 1290, and endeavoured to carry out his instructions, but he does not seem to have succeeded in obtaining the requisite support, and his death in 1295 appears to have put an end to the project.

Where was this New Land?

Storm, following the fourth authority, declares emphatically in favour of the east coast of Greenland. But, if this be the correct solution, it is difficult to understand the interest and excitement occasioned. Voyages to the uninhabited parts of Greenland were not unprecedented, but were bound to be quite unprofitable; we may doubt, moreover, whether an isolated landfall on the east coast would have been dignified with the title of discovery of a New Land. What would be the object of further exploration? Down would hardly provide a sufficient incentive; the Iceland eiders must then as now have provided it in plenty. With lapse of time the supposed position of the New Land may have become displaced, as we have seen was eventually the case with Furdustrands. (See further, on this point, p. 294.) But even if we accept it as true that Helgi’s sons sailed in the direction of Greenland, it is quite possible that they were driven elsewhere. On the whole, then, there seems more than a possibility that this allusion has reference to some part of the American coast, though from the very fact that it was treated as a new discovery it seems improbable that the actual lands visited by Karlsefni and his predecessors are here in question.

The Hönen Runes.

There is another possible reference to a Wineland voyage, though it must in any case have been an unsuccessful one. At Hönen in Ringerike there existed in 1823 a stone with an undoubted runic inscription, which was fortunately copied in that year. The stone subsequently disappeared. As is the case with many runic inscriptions, the interpretation is doubtful, but it has been thus rendered by Professor Bugge, of Norway:

‘They came out and over wide expanses, and, needing cloth to dry themselves, and food, away towards Wineland, up into the ice in the uninhabited country. Evil can take away luck, so that one dies early.’ (See In Northern Mists, vol. ii, p. 27.)[105]

If this is indeed a reference to an expedition to the Wineland with which we have hitherto been dealing, it is plain that the luckless explorers must have been driven far out of their course, probably to some part of Greenland, or possibly the arctic regions of Canada. They can never have revisited the temperate regions recorded by Leif and Karlsefni.

Voyage of Harald Haardraade.

Adam of Bremen’s allusion to Wineland, already referred to (chapter 1, p. 98), is immediately succeeded by the following report of a voyage undertaken by King Harald Haardraade, of which no other record is preserved.

‘After which island (Wineland)’, said he (King Svein), ‘no habitable land is found in that ocean, but all that is beyond is full of intolerable ice and utter darkness (immensa caligine). Of which matter Marcianus thus bears record, saying, “Beyond Thule, one day’s sail, the sea is frozen solid (concretum).” This was lately tested by the most enterprising Harald, prince of the Norsemen, who, when investigating with his ships the breadth of the northern ocean, hardly escaped with safety from the awful gulf of the abyss, by turning back, when at length the bounds of the earth where it ends (deficientis) grew dark before his eyes.’

Professor Yngvar Nielsen, in an article entitled Nordmaend og Skraelinger i Vinland (Norske Geografiske Selskabs Aarbog for 1904), argues that the voyage here referred to was possibly another attempt to find Wineland. He sees, too, a possible connexion with the Hönen runes, since Harald hailed from Ringerike, from which district the unknown hero of the inscription would seem also to have come. This connexion is evidently too fanciful to be taken seriously, though, if Harald’s voyage had Wineland as its objective, the possibility is not altogether excluded. It is true that the voyage of the Norwegian king is reported in a context which links it closely with Wineland, and it seems at first sight unlikely that Harald would have organized an expedition of so unprofitable a nature as a mere scientific exploration of the Arctic Ocean. On the other hand, the words ‘latitudinem septentrionalis oceani perscrutatus’ do seem to suggest that the object was arctic exploration, and, since Adam considers Marcianus’s remarks about the sea beyond Thule as relevant, we are not justified in concluding that Harald’s voyage was any more intimately connected with the question of Wineland. Of the theory which associates Wineland with the arctic regions something remains to be said later. (See p. 294). Here we may merely observe that there does not appear to be any reliable evidence to connect Harald’s voyage with the subject of Wineland, particularly as the experiences related, if they amount to more than a sailor’s yarn, are suggestive of the ice-floes and long night of the Polar regions.

Ideas of Icelandic Geography.

An Icelandic geography preserved in various manuscripts of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries contains a reference to the lands discovered in America, which, in its fullest form, runs as follows:

‘South from Greenland is Helluland, next to it is Markland, thence it is not far to Wineland the Good, which some men think is connected with Africa; and, if so, then the outer ocean must fall in between Wineland and Markland. It is said that Thorfin Karlsefni cut a tree for a “húsa snotra” (cf. Flatey Book account, p. 71), and after this went to seek for Wineland the Good, and came where this land was believed to be, but did not explore it or settle there. Leif the Lucky was the first to discover Wineland, and on that occasion he found merchantmen in danger on the sea, and rescued them by God’s mercy; he also introduced Christianity to Greenland, and it prospered so that an episcopal seat was placed there, at Garda.’

Part of this account claims to be founded on the information of Abbot Nicholas of Thingeyre, who died in 1159. The references to Karlsefni and Leif appear rather to be confused summaries of the statements contained in the sagas. They can hardly be relied on to displace anything occurring in the records with which we have been dealing.

As regards the relative position of the three countries, the geography knows nothing precise, except that Helluland lay to the south of Greenland, as stated in the Saga of Eric the Red. Probably it was known, or deduced from the information as to climate, that Markland and Wineland belonged to lower latitudes, and hence the error, reproduced in Eric’s Saga, of imagining the course between all the lands to be uniformly south, was generally accepted. The writers of the geography do not, however, commit themselves to any such view. Apparently they knew more about Helluland and Markland than about Wineland, which looks as if the former had been more recently visited. They evidently knew that Helluland and Markland were not connected with Africa, while Wineland might be. With the way in which such a theory as the connexion between Wineland and Africa may have arisen I have already dealt (p. 274). The theory, it will be noticed, is mentioned in connexion with the ancient hypothesis of the all-encircling ocean, which long hampered geographical and cartographical science.

Early Maps.

We have to wait till a period subsequent to the re-discovery of America for the earliest known attempt to depict Wineland, and the two more northerly lands known to the Norsemen, in the form of a map. There exists, however, in the Royal Library at Copenhagen, a copy, made apparently about 1590, of a map drawn by Sigurd Stefansson, an Icelander, about one hundred years previously. The map is dated 1570, but it has been clearly proved that this is a mistake on the part of the copyist, and that the date must probably have been 1590 on the original map. The general lines of this map are here reproduced. With regard to the point marked A there is a note by the author betraying a knowledge of Frobisher’s voyage in 1576, which is in itself sufficient to show the date, 1570, to be an error.

A map drawn by Hans Poulson Resen in 1605 is also in existence which covers the same ground, and is so similar in most features that it has generally been accepted as being a mere copy of Stefansson’s work, revised in the light of such information as more recent voyages could provide. The relevant features of this map are also here reproduced.

Now, in the first place, there arises on consideration a very great difficulty in the way of adopting the current view, maintained by Storm and others, that the Resen map is based on that of Stefansson.

The inscription on Resen’s work runs as follows:

‘Indicatio Groenlandiae et vicinarum regionum, versus Septentrionem et Occidentem, ex antiqua quadam mappa, rudi modo delineata, ante aliquot centenos annos, ab Islandis, quibus tunc erat ista terra notissima, et nauticis nostri temporis observationibus.’

The error in the date on the extant copy of Stefansson’s map is manifestly the work of an unintelligent copyist, which makes it practically certain that the original was also dated; moreover the note on the point A, to which allusion has been made, is stated to be by Stefansson himself, and must therefore in all probability have been attached to the original. In any case it must have been made about the same time, for the author of the map was drowned in Iceland not long after the date of its production. It seems, therefore, practically impossible that Resen, with such evidence of recent composition before him, could have described as a map made ‘some centuries ago’ a work so nearly contemporaneous with his own. He could not have, in fact, formed any such conclusion, and there would be no point in falsely ascribing to his source an origin which detracts from its authority. Again, though neither work is a masterpiece, Sigurd Stefansson’s production compares quite favourably in point of finish with Resen’s, and could therefore hardly be stigmatized by the latter author as rudi modo delineata. The form, moreover, of Hvitserk in Greenland is more complicated in Resen’s map than in the earlier work, and, as the cartographer could have had no modern source from which to correct this feature, it is difficult to suppose that its form is borrowed from Stefansson. Finally, Resen introduces in his map such place-names as Ericsfjord, Vesterbygdsfjord, and Österbygd, which do not occur in Stefansson, and are not derived from the work of later discoverers.

In fact, all the evidence confirms the probability that both Resen and Stefansson worked, not one from the other, but both from a common source, of earlier date, which may well have been made, as Resen claims, ante aliquot centenos annos, and was, if so, pre-Columbian.

Now, if the two maps are independent of one another, the common source must clearly have contained, not only the representation of Greenland which is found in both, but equally the representation of Helluland, Markland, and Wineland, which shows, allowing for revision in the light of later exploration, almost as marked similarity. Unless, then, the mapping of these lands is merely based on the contemporary interpretation of the sagas, we have here fresh evidence of subsequent voyages, if not to the lands explored by Karlsefni, at least to some parts of North America which became confused with them.

The hypothesis that the land-forms are merely drawn from a reading of the sagas is that adopted by Storm. It is difficult, however, to account in this way for such a feature as the south-easterly trend from Markland to Wineland, which distinctly conflicts with the sources which we have been following. There is, moreover, as will be seen by a comparison with the map on p. 291, a striking resemblance to the actual form of Baffin Land and northern Labrador, the shape of the latter peninsula especially in Resen’s map being remarkably accurate in points not traceable to any map of the period known to me. The indications of Ungava Bay and Cape Chidley in particular are features unrepresented by contemporary cartographers, and though Labrador is much too small in proportion to the two main peninsulas of Baffin Land, this is what one would expect from crude and early representations, which are apt to devote more space to well-known than to less-known places. It is quite clear, in any case, that both Stefansson and Resen considered that their maps represented Baffin Land and Labrador, and this argues a better knowledge of the appearance of these localities than other cartographers of the period seem to have been able to derive from the reports of explorers. On the whole, then, I incline to the view that these maps are evidence of voyages to America subsequent to those of which we have any record.

What then? Must we discard all the conclusions hitherto arrived at, and adopt those of the Labrador school which we have rejected so unhesitatingly and for such formidable reasons? By no means. It is quite in accordance with precedent that a confusion should have arisen in the identification of places visited by early explorers, and that Baffin Land and Labrador, when visited by later Norsemen, should have been wrongly assumed to be the lands discovered and described by their predecessors. Thus Frobisher’s discoveries in Meta Incognita were for a long time supposed to be situated in Greenland, while the latter country, and not that which now bears the name, was the original Labrador.

To suppose that the old Norsemen, with a possibly imperfect recollection of the sagas, should have identified Labrador with Wineland is to accuse them of no grosser error than that committed by many modern critics of the subject, to whom the whole of the relevant evidence was readily accessible. The reader can hardly have failed to notice that some such confusion as is here suggested must, at a very early date, have taken place. Whereas the sagas themselves speak clearly of southerly latitudes and a temperate climate, the later tradition and such records as we have of possible later voyages indicate an idea that Wineland was to be found in the Arctic Regions. Thus, the Hönen runes speak of ‘ice in the uninhabited regions’, Adam of Bremen associates Wineland with ‘intolerable ice’ and frozen seas, the ‘New Land’ is identified in the later MSS. of the Annals with the wilds of Greenland, and Furdustrands becomes a region uninhabitable on account of frost (see p. 227).

It is not difficult to see how such ideas may have arisen in Iceland and European Scandinavia. The maps under consideration supply us with a probable clue. Greenland is quite wrongly oriented, with its southern extremity pointing south-east instead of south, or, as a compass-chart would have represented it, considerably to the west of south. The cartographer has evidently been misled by the names Western and Eastern Settlement, conferred on the colonies at Godthaab and Julianehaab respectively, which are, in fact, more or less north and south in relation to one another. The confusion produced by this inappropriate nomenclature persisted down to very recent times. The effect of such an error is to suggest to intending explorers that land which really lies to the west of Greenland may be reached by sailing in a direction which is actually north. Although I have suggested another reason for Karlsefni’s alleged visit to the Western Settlement before setting out on his travels, it is always possible, as Dr. Nansen says (vol. 1, p. 321) that this too is a mistake on the part of the saga-writer, based on the not unnatural assumption that the Western Settlement lay due west of the Eastern, and was therefore the nearest point to Wineland instead of the farthest from it. The unduly shortened distance in the saga between Greenland and Helluland (two dægr) may possibly be explained in the same way, and in this case the Bear Islands may actually mean Disko. (Cf. Chapter VIII, p. 262). If so, however, one would have to suppose the saga-writer to have had access to the report of some subsequent explorer, who, sailing from Disko, had touched or sighted the Cumberland peninsula of Baffin Land, and the earlier part of the record of Karlsefni’s voyage would have to be rejected, in so far as it purported to represent historically the experience of that explorer.

Now if, from a misunderstanding, of the true orientation of the Greenland peninsula, Icelandic or Norwegian sailors got the idea that it was necessary to follow the Greenland coast in order to approach the countries discovered in America, it is easy to see how they might bring back reports of ice and arctic conditions, and possibly of parts of Baffin Land and northern Labrador, which might thus become identified with the lands discovered by Leif and Karlsefni.

The Icelandic geography referred to above conveys, as already stated, an impression that while countries identified with Helluland and Markland had been visited, Wineland had been sought for in vain, and its exact situation was at the time of writing unknown. This is quite intelligible if later explorers had, for the reason suggested above, confined their search to more northerly latitudes.

Whilst, then, these early maps are of no use as authorities whereby we may unravel the problems of the original Wineland voyages, I think that they are of considerable interest both as affording evidence of later Scandinavian voyages to America, and also as providing a solution of the way in which the mistaken idea which associated Wineland with the north may have come into existence.

Conclusion.

The data being now exhausted, it only remains to bid farewell to our explorers. Comparisons are proverbially odious, and it is futile to bring Columbus and his successors into the question. Karlsefni and his contemporaries were—as discoverers—born out of due time. With the general interest which was felt in exploration in the fifteenth and following centuries, with kings to back them and states to develop their discoveries, above all, with an armament immeasurably superior to that of the natives, such as the later explorers possessed, these simple Norse seamen might have attained a far wider fame, or even have affected the course of history. As it was their deeds were unimportant, and soon almost if not quite forgotten. To-day the man in the street looks incredulous or astonished at the very mention of the Wineland voyages, however well authenticated these are seen to be by the student of the subject. A little less scepticism, a little less complete oblivion is all that shall be asked for them here.

BIBLIOGRAPHY

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INDEX

Adam of Bremen, 49, 97, 156, 286.

Annals, Icelandic, 110, 137, 146, 152, 283–5, 295.

Ari Marsson, 96, 189.

Ari the Learned, 74, 87, 93, 120, 156, 173–7.

Aud the Very Wealthy, 28, 87, 103, 152.

Avalldamon, 65, 188.

Babcock, W. H., 7, 103, 186, 199, 234, 235, 236, 252, 254, 262, 263, 268–70.

Bacchus, Île de, 159.

Balista, 62, 184–6, 194.

Bardson, Ivar, sailing directions of, 199, 204.

Barn, discovered by Thorvald’s expedition, 46, 48, 160.

Barnstable Peninsula, 246, 248, 253, 257, 258, 270.

Bear, killed on Bjarney, 56, 266.

Bear Isles, 56, 262, 295.

Bede, the Venerable, 191, 209.

Birds, on Straumsey, 57, 154, 168–71.

Bjarney, 56, 228, 238, 265–7.

Bjarni Grimolfson, companion of Karlsefni, 53, 55, 58, 60, 64;
confused with Herjulfson, 105;
not mentioned in Flatey Book, 143.
Bjarni Herjulfson, discovers America, 25–8;
in Norway, 40;
sells ship to Leif, 40;
distinguished from Grimolfson, 105;
authenticity of voyage, 114–18;
course of voyage, 131;
Mr. Hovgaard on, 238;
reconstruction of voyage, 244–51.
Björn Asbrandsson, 190.

Björn, Bishop, descendant of Karlsefni, 19, 20, 72, 86.

Bláserk, 22, 112.

Brand I, Bishop, descendant of Karlsefni, 72, 86, 101–2, 111, 137.

Brattahlid, 25, 37, 39, 40, 44, 45, 52–5, 135, 138, 141.

Brendan, Saint, voyage of, 162, 168, 171, 184.

Bull, Karlsefni’s, frightens savages, 62, 83, 194.

Cabot, 9, 221, 266.

Canoes, 46, 61, 95, 107, 174, 177–9, 193.

Cartier, Jacques, 107, 158, 170, 179, 183, 192, 226, 231, 266, 267.

Cartwright, Captain, 240, 266.

Celtic literature, influence discussed, 154, 162–72, 184, 187, 191.

Champlain, 48, 159, 170, 236, 256, 268.

Charlemagne, character of traditions concerning, 116.

Cloth, red, coveted by skrælings, 61, 183–4, 194.

Cod, Cape, 248, 256–9, 265, 267, 270, 273, 276.

Corn, wild, 48, 57, 60, 76, 98, 107, 158, 159–62, 226, 229, 240.

Corte Real, 9, 221, 265, 266.

Courses, 107, 131, 222, 232, 239, 242, 258, 259, 265.

Crossness, 47.

Dægr, meaning discussed, 196–211.

Dasent, Sir George, 148.

Dawson’s Acadian Geology, 269.

De Laet: see Hudson.

Denys, Nicholas, 159, 170, 179, 268–9.

Dicuil, 191.

Dieserud, Juul, 104, 234, 258, 271.

Down Islands: see New Land.

Dublin, 28, 66.

Eggs, on Straumsey, 58, 168–71.

Eric, Bishop of Greenland, 18, 152, 283.

Eric the Far-Travelled, 110.

Eric the Red, adventures in Iceland and discovery of Greenland, 21–4;
children, 25, 37;
receives Thorbjörn Vifilson, 37;
slow to change faith, 39;
asked to accompany Leif, 40;
accident to, 41, 78;
death alleged, 45;
unconverted, 47;
entertains Karlsefni, 53;
in Eyrbyggja, 73;
Ari’s account of, 74, 94;
bad opinion of priest, 75, 136;
conversion alleged, 76;
accompanies Thorstein, 79;
problem of his death, 135.

Eric the Red, Saga of, 14, 100, 101, 108, 141.

Eyktarstad observation, 42, 107, 123, 211–20, 225, 229, 243.

Eyrbyggja Saga, 39, 66, 73, 190.

Fernald, Professor, 160, 229.

Fischer, Joseph, 106, 115.

Fisher’s Island, 272, 273.

Flags, Indian, 65, 183, 193.

Flatey Book, 14, 100, 104–46, 238.

Flóamanna Saga, 136.

Fortunate Islands: see Insulae Fortunatae.

Fóstbraeðra Saga, 138.

Foxes, arctic, in Helluland, 56, 165, 230–1.

Freydis, daughter of Eric the Red, 25;
illegitimate, 55;
courage of, 62–3;
second visit to Wineland, 67;
crime of, 70;
independence of Flatey Book story of, 105;
probability of story, 127.

Fríssbók, 74, 119.

Frobisher, 178, 183, 184, 289.

Froda miracle, 38–9.

Furdustrands, 56, 59, 60, 133, 227, 233, 234, 236, 238, 240, 242, 267–71, 285, 295.

Fur-trading by skrælings 61, 84, 183, 194.

Garda, site of Greenland Cathedral, 25, 142, 288.

Genealogies, Icelandic love of, 10, 91.

Geography, Icelandic, 241, 274, 287–9.

Godthaab, 23, 262, 295.

Gosling, W., 181.

Greenland, 16, 22, 74, 94, 139–46, 149, 177, 261, 282, 284, 287, 288, 290–6.

Gretti’s Saga, 53, 249.

Gripla, 227.

Gudrid, early history of, 30;
helps the sibyl, 36;
marriage to Thori, 45, 134;
to Thorstein Ericson, 49, 79;
to Karlsefni, 54, 83;
son born in Wineland, 64;
later history and death of, 72;
descendants, 86;
heroine of Saga of Eric, 142.

Gunnbjörn, 22, 117, 118.

Hake and Hekja, 57, 106, 151, 167, 254, 271.

Hakluyt, 169, 178, 179, 231, 236, 250, 266.

Haliburton, R. G., 113.

Halibut, 60, 171.

Hallbera, Abbess of Reynisness, 19, 20, 87, 102.

Hall-beams (setstokkar), 21, 24.

Harald Haardraade, 90, 286.

Hauk Erlendson, 19, 20, 87, 96, 100–4.

Heimskringla, 94, 113, 120, 138, 199.

Helgi Thorbrandson, 24, 116.

Helgi and Finnbogi, 67–70.

Helluland, 41, 56, 165, 167, 172, 227, 230–1, 235, 238, 251, 263–5, 287, 288, 290, 295, 296.

Henderson’s Iceland, 212–13.

Herjulf, 16, 24, 25, 114.

Hewlett, Maurice, his Gudrid the Fair, 7–8.

History, character of early, 150.

Hönen runic stone, 285, 286, 294.

Hóp, 60, 64, 108, 162, 223, 228, 234, 237, 238, 240, 242, 252, 272, 275–81.

Horsford, E. N., 147, 235, 270.

Hovgaard, W., 7, 114, 237–40, 262.

Hudson, the Navigator, 48, 159, 184, 187, 277.

Hudson River, 272, 276.

Húsa-snotra, 71, 144, 146, 288.

Hvarf, in Greenland, 202, 203–5, 208.

Hvítramannaland, 65, 97, 189–91, 194.

Hvitserk, 22, 290, 292.

Imramha: see Voyage literature, Celtic.

Insulae Fortunatae, 98, 154–62.

Ireland, 28, 60, 66, 154, 162–72, 189–91.

Isidore Hispalensis, 98, 154, 162.

Íslendíngabók, 74, 87, 94, 173–6.

Jan Mayen, 207, 208.

Jökul, 238, 249.

Jolduhlaup, 202, 205.

Jónsson, Finnur, 7, 40, 102, 108, 264.

Julianehaab, 23, 295.

Karlsefni, Thorfin, ancestors of, 52;
comes to Greenland, 53;
marries Gudrid, 54;
sails to Wineland, 55;
expedition of, 52–67;
in Flatey Book, 82–6;
trades with Bremen merchant, 71;
descendants, 72, 86, 87;
related to Ari, 20, 93;
mentioned in Landnámabók, 97;
ancestor of Hauk, 20, 101, 103;
an Icelandic hero, 116, 118, 122;
courses of voyage, 131;
date of voyage, 18, 137, 261;

Mr. Hovgaard on, 239, 240;
voyage reconstructed, 261–81.

Kayaks, Eskimo, 178, 181, 182, 194.

Keelness, 46, 56, 59, 60, 77, 150, 227, 238, 242, 258, 267, 270, 273, 276, 278.

‘King’s Mirror’, 177, 249.

Kjafal, 57.

Kolbein’s island: see Mevenklint.

Kolskegg, 96.

Kristinret, 214, 218.

Kristni Saga, 75, 120.

Labrador, 228–31, 238–40, 242, 244, 249, 251, 262–4, 290, 291, 293, 294.

Laing, Samuel, 113, 128.
Landnámabók, 21, 28, 96, 181, 189, 201, 209.
Land-Rolf, 284.
Leif Ericson, born, 21;
seduces Thorgunna, 37;
converts Greenland, 39, 74–6;
goes to Wineland, 40–5;
alternative account, 76;
lends houses to Karlsefni, 83;
and to Freydis, 69;
still a child in 986, 117;
Flatey Book account of preferred, 118–25;
course sailed by, 131;
date of visit to Norway, 134;
Rörek sent to, 138;
voyage discussed, 251–5.
‘Leita’, meaning of, 152.
Long Island Sound, 271–4.
Lyme-grass, 160, 161, 229.
Maelduin, voyage of, 165–7, 184.
Maize, 161.
Maps of Wineland, early, 241, 289–96.

Markland, 41, 56, 65, 166, 180, 188, 227, 231–3, 235, 238, 239, 241, 251, 265, 283, 287, 288, 293, 296.

Mausur (or mösur) wood, 71, 76, 146, 160, 229, 230.

Melur: see Lyme-grass.

Mevenklint, 207, 209.

Midjökul, 22, 112.

Milk, appreciated by skrælings, 84.

‘Moose-butter’, 179.

Morris convention in translating sagas, 12.

Moulton’s History of New York, 8.

Mountains at Straumsfjord and Hóp, 58, 64, 260, 277–81.

Nansen, Dr. Fridtjof, 9, 133, 147–72, 174–7, 180, 181, 183–8, 191, 265, 274, 285, 295.

Natives: see Skrælings.

Neckel, G., 7, 106, 109, 253–4.

Newfoundland, 230–3, 235, 237, 238, 240, 247, 249, 250, 264, 265.

New Land, the, 283–5.

Nicholas, Abbot of Thingeyre, 288.

Nielsen, Dr. Yngvar, 286–7.

Njál’s Saga, 90, 128, 148.

Norway, significance of direct voyages to, 144–5.

Nova Scotia, 170, 179, 230, 233–6, 247, 248, 251, 256, 257, 259, 265, 267–70.

Olaf the Holy, Saga of, 110, 138, 199.

Olaf the White, 20, 28.

Olaf Tryggvason, 37–8, 40, 57, 67, 74–6, 109, 110, 111, 118–22, 134, 135.

Olderfleet, 205.

Oral tradition in Iceland, 88–93.

Pamet River, 257, 259.

‘Papar’ (Irish monks), 175–6.

Parkhurst, Antony, on Newfoundland, 231.

Rafn, C., 147, 216, 219, 235.

Rafn the Limerick-Farer, 190–1.

Reeves, A. M., 10, 111, 264.

Remains, Norse, in America, alleged, 235.

Resen, Hans Poulson, map by, 289–96.

‘Reydur’ (see whale).

Rice, wild, 161.

Rímbegla, 197, 200–1.

Rolf: see Land-Rolf.

Saga, erroneous ideas concerning, 11;
historical value of, 147–51;
in Greenland, 55, 141.

Saint Lawrence, Gulf of, 124, 266.

Salmon, in Wineland, 42, 166, 275, 277.

Savages: see Skrælings.

Scotland, partial conquest of, by Norsemen, 28.

Seal-tar, specific against teredo, 65.

Shenachies, 89, 92.

Ships, Icelandic, speed of, 196–201, 263.

Sibyl, the, 11, 33–7, 142.

Skrælings, 46, 61–3, 65, 74, 83–6, 95, 154, 173–95.

Snorri Godi, 18, 20, 73, 136.

Snorri Karlsefnison, 18, 20, 64, 72, 84, 86, 87, 94, 137.

Snorri Thorbrandson, 22, 24, 53, 55, 60, 61, 62, 64, 66, 73, 143.

Steensby, H. P., 7, 124, 226, 237, 238, 241–3.

Stefansson, Sigurd, map by, 289–96.

Storm, Gustav, 106, 113, 117, 124, 132, 134, 144, 191, 202, 217, 224, 230–4, 244, 259, 265, 267, 278, 284, 293.

Straumsey, 57, 168, 243, 273.

Straumsfjord, 58, 64, 133, 228, 238, 240, 242, 271–4, 279, 280.

Sturlunga Saga, 99.

Svalbarda, 202, 206, 207.

Svein Estridson, king of Denmark, 18, 97, 156, 286.

Teredo, 65.

Thalbitzer, W., 188.

Thjodhild, wife of Eric the Red, 21, 37, 39.

Thorar Nefjolfson, 138, 199, 201, 203, 248.

Thorbjörg: see Sibyl.

Thorbjörn Vifilson, 14, 15, 20, 22, 28–33, 37, 55, 103, 136.

Thorbrand Snorrison, 63, 67.

Thorgest, 21–3, 73, 100, 108.

Thorgunna, 37–40.

Thorhall Gamlison, 53, 55.

Thorhall the Hunter, 55, 59, 60, 77, 107, 133, 155, 168, 226, 254, 268.

Thori Eastman, 44–5, 49, 134.

Thorkel Gellison, 20, 74, 93, 95, 177, 190.

Thorkel Leifson, 138.

Thorlak, Bishop, descendant of Karlsefni, 18, 20, 72, 86, 87, 94, 137.

Thormod Kolbrunarskald, 77, 126, 138, 187, 224.

Thor-names, frequent occurrence of, 152.
Thorstein Ericson, 25, 37;
marries Gudrid, 49, 79;
sails for Wineland, 40, 78;
illness and death of, 50–2, 80–2;
driven near Iceland and Ireland, 79, 125;
supernatural episodes connected with, 50–2, 80–2, 149.

Thorvald Ericson, mentioned among Eric’s children, 25;
voyage of, in Flatey Book, 45–8;
alternative account, 77;
only mentioned by Hauk as Karlsefni’s companion, 55, 126, 279;
accounts of death compared, 125–7;
voyage reconstructed, 255–60.

Thorvard, husband of Freydis, 25, 55, 69, 126, 129, 142.

Three, recurrence of number, 153, 167.

Time-keeping, Icelandic method of, 212.

Tir-nan-Oge, in Celtic myth, 164.

Torfaeus, 214.

‘Trjóna’, meaning discussed, 181–3, 194.

Troil’s Letters on Iceland, 160, 168, 199, 213, 220, 230.

Tylft (Icelandic measure), 169, 197–200.

Tyrker, 41, 43, 44, 106, 150, 254.

Umiak (Eskimo boat), 178.

Uniped, 77, 126, 154, 187, 224, 259, 260.

Uvægi, 65, 188.

Vætilldi, 65, 188.

Valldidida, 65, 188.

Varðlokkur, 35.

Verses, incidental, in sagas, 13, 14, 25, 59, 60, 78, 133, 155, 168, 224, 226, 260, 268.

Verezzano, 180, 277.

Vifil, 20, 29, 103, 142.

Vigfusson, G., 90, 93, 96, 99, 110, 113, 216.

Vika (Icelandic measure), 197–8.

Vines, discovery of, 43, 48, 57, 60, 76, 97, 98, 154–9, 226, 253–5.

Voyage literature, Celtic, 163–5, 184.

Whale, episode of, 58, 83, 104, 107, 132–4, 150, 154, 167–8, 240.

Wineland, 44, 74, 75, 95, 97, 98, 155, 156, 159, 225, 227, 229, 233, 235, 236, 237–43, 251–3, 255–60, 267–81, 283, 285, 287, 289–96.

Winter, Icelandic, 216.

Women, quarrels over, in Wineland, 64, 105;
characteristics of, 130.

Yates: see Moulton.

Yeats, W. B., his comparison of Celtic and Icelandic literature, 164.

PRINTED IN ENGLAND
AT THE OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Hereinafter referred to as the Saga of Eric the Red, Hauk’s Book, and the Flatey Book. See Part II, Chapter I.

[2] Flatey Book.

[3] See note at end of section.

[4] Flatey Book. Cf. Part II, Chapter I, p. 108.

[5] From [ omitted in Flatey Book.

[6] Hauk’s Book and Saga of Eric the Red.

[7] So Landnámabók, Hauk’s Book, and Flatey Book: Eric’s Saga has ‘Hvitserk’.

[8] Flatey Book and some texts of Landnámabók have ‘Eastern Settlement’. The Eastern Settlement was near Julianehaab, the Western near Godthaab. Both were thus on the west coast of Greenland.

[9] Hauk’s Book.

[10] Omitted in Flatey Book.

[11] What follows is transcribed in the Flatey version only.

[12] Flatey Book.

[13] Flatey Book has ‘35’.

[14] Hauk’s Landnámabók and some other texts have ‘Snorri’. In fact Snorri Thorbrandson went out later, as will be seen.

[15] There must be an error in supposing this Vifil to have been the father of Thorgeir and Thorbjörn. Even if we consider Vifil to have been captured as a boy, and to belong to the generation of Aud’s grandson, Olaf Feilan, we know that Thorgeir and Thorbjörn were of the generation of Snorri Godi and Thord Horsehead, the great-grandsons of Olaf Feilan, as their daughters married the sons of these persons respectively. (See Genealogical Table, p. 20.) It will be seen, moreover, later on, that Thorbjörn Vifilson looked down on the son of a slave, which would hardly have been the case had he been one himself. (See post, p. 32).

[16] i.e. a chant for attracting spirits.

[17] See note at end of section.

[18] At this point, on the voyage to Greenland, comes the accidental discovery of Wineland by Leif, as given in this version. For this see Appendix, p. 76.

[19] i.e. as he had formerly led the expedition to Greenland. Finnur Jónsson sees in the word enn (‘still’) a reminiscence of Thorstein’s voyage in Eric’s Saga; this interpretation, however, seems unnecessarily far-fetched.

[20] Lit: ‘the sun had there eykt-place and dagmál-place on the shortest day’. See Part II, Chapter V.

[21] The text adds:—‘Eric the Red died also that winter.’ I am disposed to think this statement probable, but as Eric is frequently mentioned later on in the alternative version, I omit this from the story. (See, however, Part II, Chapter II, p. 135.)

[22] See note at end of section.

[23] Skrælingar.

[24] See note at end of this section.

[25] This is corroborated by Gretti’s Saga, Chaps. 14 and 30, where one ‘Thorhall Gamlison the Winelander’ is mentioned.

[26] Hauk’s Book: ‘Eric’.

[27] Following the text of Hauk’s Book, as the clearer sense.

[28] The copyist of Eric’s Saga misplaces this sentence, putting it before ‘with much playing’. Hauk’s is the preferable reading.

[29] Hauk’s Book: ‘spring’.

[30] Hauk’s Book corrects this to ‘Thorvard, who married Freydis, an illegitimate daughter of Eric the Red’, but adds ‘and Thorvald Ericson’. Cf. Part II, Chapter II, p. 126.

[31] Plural, therefore he had been with Eric many years.

[32] Hauk’s Book: ‘with Thorvard and Thorvald’.

[33] Eric’s Saga says, ‘forty men of the second hundred’. Hauk’s Book has, ‘forty men and a hundred’. As the Icelandic hundred was 120, this means 160 in each case.

[34] From [ Hauk’s Book has: ‘Thence they coasted south for a long while, and came to a cape’, &c.

[35] Hauk’s Book; Eric’s Saga has ‘bjafal’. The word is clearly Gaelic. Nansen suggests an Irish word, ‘cabhail’, the body of a shirt. Or possibly ‘gioball’ = garment.

[36] Hauk’s Book has ‘newly-sown’.

[37] Hauk’s Book: ‘eiders’.

[38] From [ omitted in Hauk’s Book.

[39] These verses follow the Hauk’s Book text, which is here less corrupt than the other.

[40] See note 39 on previous page.

[41] So Hauk’s Book; the companion text has ‘small’.

[42] Lit. as many as if it had been sowed with coal.

[43] Following Hauk’s Book, as the clearer text.

[44] Hauk’s Book has ‘several’.

[45] i.e. sent from Hóp, as hostile emissaries or spies.

[46] Hauk’s Book: ‘at night’.

[47] Hauk’s Book: ‘Gudrid’.

[48] Here follows this narrative’s version of the death of Thorvald. (See Appendix, p. 77.)

[49] Following Hauk’s text. Eric’s Saga reads, ‘They intended to explore all those mountains which were at Hóp, and those which they found.’ It continues ‘they went back, and the third winter’, &c.

[50] Following Hauk’s text.

[51] Hauk’s Book, probably more correctly ‘Ireland’.

[52] Hauk’s Book gives a different reason. ‘All thought this such a manly offer that no one would speak against it.’

[53] See Appendix, p. 83.

[54] The text has ‘Karlsefni’, an obvious slip.

[55] The meaning of this word is uncertain.

[56] A mistake. Hallfrid was the wife of Runolf, and mother of Bishop Thorlak.

[57] The dying speech ascribed here to Thorvald is evidently borrowed from that of Thormod Kolbrunarskald after the battle of Stiklestad, where the point is much more easy to grasp. Thorvald means that he has come to a land providing plenty of nourishment, otherwise he would not be fat.

[58] Following Hauk’s text, to supply what is illegible in the other version.

[59] Following Hauk’s text, the other version being badly confused here.

[60] Or, ‘he lords it over all the apparitions’, etc.

[61] I have heard of a similar custom in the more remote parts of Norway at the present day, where the visits of the priest are infrequent. The only difference is that earth is sprinkled into the hole when the funeral service is read, instead of holy water.

[62] Word omitted in MS.

[63] Hauk’s Book, ‘Gudrid’.

[64] Prolegom. to Sturlunga, p. xxv.

[65] Prolegom. to Sturlunga, p. xxxvii.

[66] Ibid., p. xxxi.

[67] See below, p. 108.

[68] Early Norse Visits to North America. Washington, 1913.

[69] Die Entdeckungen der Normannen in Amerika. Freiburg, 1902.

[70] Opdagelsen af og Reiserne til Vinland, Aarbog for Nordisk Oldkyndighed, etc., for 1915.

[71] Prolegom. to Sturlunga, p. lix.

[72] Aarbog for Nordisk Oldkynd. og Hist. 1887.

[73] Since this chapter was written, my attention has been called to W. Hovgaard’s Voyages of the Norsemen to America (1915), in which the Flatey Book is defended.

[74] This was written before the appearance of Professor Steensby’s monograph, which will be dealt with later (p. 237). This author brings his explorers into the Gulf of St. Lawrence, but I adhere to my opinion.

[75] If the statement of the Flóamanna Saga can be relied on, Eric as a young man, already grown up, was with Haakon Jarl in Norway at the time when the latter ‘took the kingdom’, i.e. immediately after Harald Greyfell’s death (c. 970). The passage refers to Eric as an ‘Icelander’, but must almost necessarily relate to the period before Eric’s emigration from Norway.

[76] According to the Fóstbraeðra Saga, when Thormod Kolbrunarskald visited Greenland about five years before his death at Stiklestad (1030) Eric’s grandson, Thorkel Leifson, had succeeded to Brattahlid.

[77] In Northern Mists, vol. ii, pp. 20–21.

[78] In Northern Mists, vol. i, p. 335.

[79] In Northern Mists, vol, i, p. 346.

[80] In Northern Mists, vol. i, p. 359.

[81] See Stearn’s New England Bird Life, Part II, p. 362.

[82] In Northern Mists, vol. i, p. 345, and cf. p. 360.

[83] Force’s Tracts, vol. ii, p. 61.

[84] In Northern Mists, vol. ii, p. 75.

[85] ‘There were then Christian men here, those whom the Norsemen call Papar, but they went away afterwards, because they would not live here with heathen men, and they left behind them Irish books and bells and croziers: from which it might be inferred that they were Irishmen.’

[86] W. G. Gosling, Labrador, p. 17.

[87] Cf. Frobisher’s first voyage, in Hakluyt, ‘And so with a white cloth brought one of their boates with their men along the shoare, rowing after our boate.’

[88] See In Northern Mists, vol. ii, pp. 8–10.

[89] Norse Visits to North America, p. 157.

[90] The most that can be said is that the ‘lld’ sound occurring in three of the four words was probably characteristic of the language. Mr. Thalbitzer permits himself an unrestricted range through the Eskimo vocabulary for words resembling in sound those cited in the saga. This obviously leaves room for a considerable chance of merely accidental resemblance. Mr. Thalbitzer’s equivalents for ‘Vætilldi’ and ‘Uvægi’ are ‘uwätille’ and ‘uwätje’, meaning ‘wait a little, please’ and ‘wait a little’. The ‘ll’ we are told is strongly aspirated, and may be represented by ‘tl’. By a curious coincidence, which shows the danger of arguing on these lines, these Eskimo words have almost the same sound as their English rendering—‘you wait a little’, ‘you wait’.

[91] In Northern Mists, vol. i, p. 354.

[92] So Hauk: other texts have simply ‘west to Greenland’.

[93] Irish Place Names, vol. i, p. 106.

[94] Troil’s Letters on Iceland, 1780, p. 118.

[95] Corpus Poeticum Boreale, vol. i, p. 430.

[96] This was written before the appearance of Professor Steensby’s monograph, which is dealt with in a postscript (p. 237).

[97] See Troil’s Letters on Iceland, p. 105.

[98] Though there are woods at Nain, and were formerly more, it must be remembered that there is an intricate barrier of sterile islands between the coast and the open sea, in and about these latitudes.

[99] Cf. Hakluyt, A briefe relation of the New found lande:—‘That which we doe call the New found lande ... is an iland, or rather, after the opinion of some, it consisteth of sundry ilands and broken lands.’

[100] It is also possible, as Mr. Hovgaard suggests, that Karlsefni had to sail north to penetrate the ice round the coast.

[101] Since writing this, I find that the same emendation has been suggested by Finnur Jónsson.

[102] Unless we accept the story told to account for the name, Keelness. Even this would only be a very temporary landing, on the beach.

[103] In Northern Mists, vol. ii, p. 24.

[104] In an article on the fauna of Greenland by Herluf Winge (Meddelelser om Grönland, vol. xxi, p. 322), the author cites a list of furs said by Archbishop Erik Walkendorff of Trondhjem (circa 1516) to be obtained from Greenland. Many of the animals therein referred to are not properly attributable to Greenland, and Winge suggests that these skins may have found their way via Greenland to Trondhjem from America.

[105] It is perhaps rash for an amateur to criticize the interpretation of an expert, but the numerous ‘ands’ in the early part of the inscription suggest to my mind that the words between them should be names of persons. The stereotyped form for a memorial runic inscription usually begins with a list of the persons responsible for it, separated by ‘and’ (auk = ok). The original, as read by Bugge, runs ‘út ok vitt ok þurfa þerru ok ats’, &c.

Transcriber’s Notes

- New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.

- Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.

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Table of Contents

THE NORSE Discoverers of AMERICA
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION
CHRONOLOGICAL SUMMARY
GENEALOGICAL TABLE

§1. ERIC THE RED AND THE COLONIZATION OF GREENLAND

§2. THE ADVENTURE OF BJARNI HERJULFSON
§3. OF THORBJÖRN VIFILSON
§4. GUDRID COMES TO GREENLAND
§5. GUDRID AND THE SIBYL
§6. LEIF GOES TO NORWAY
§7. LEIF DISCOVERS WINELAND
§8. THORVALD’S VOYAGE AND DEATH
§9. THORSTEIN’S UNSUCCESSFUL VENTURE
§10. THE EXPEDITION OF THORFIN KARLSEFNI
§11. FREYDIS

APPENDIX

- 1. Eric the Red.

- Eyrbyggja Saga, chap. 24.

- From Ari’s Íslendíngabók.

- 2. Leif.

- Saga of Olaf Tryggvason (Fríssbók text).

- Kristni Saga (Hauk’s Book).

- Flatey Book, chap. 352 (in the body of the Saga of Olaf Tryggvason).

- Saga of Eric the Red and Hauk’s Book, the latter italicized.

- Flatey Book.

- 3. Thorvald’s Voyage.

- Hauk’s Book: the companion text is here badly confused by the copyist.

- 4. Thorstein’s Voyage.

- Saga of Eric the Red and Hauk’s Book, the latter italicized.

- 5. Thorfin Karlsefni.

- Flatey Book Version.

- 6. Karlsefni’s Descendants.

- Saga of Eric the Red with Hauk’s Book. (The latter italicized.)

- Ari’s Íslendíngabók.

I. NATURE OF THE EVIDENCE

- Oral Tradition in Iceland.

- Ari the Learned.

- The Landnámabók.

- Adam of Bremen.

- Date of the Existing Manuscripts.

- Hauk’s Book and the Saga of Eric the Red.

- Hauk’s Personal Authority.

- Independence of the Flatey Version.

- Date of the Flatey Book.

II. THE DISCREPANCIES OF THE FLATEY BOOK

- Bjarni Herjulfson.

- Leif’s Voyage.

- Thorvald.

- Freydis.

- Courses.

- The Stranded Whale.

- Thori Eastman.

- Death of Eric the Red.

- A Greenland Saga?

- Direct Voyages to Norway.

III. THE STORIES AS HISTORY

- Admixture of the Supernatural.

- Character of Early History.

- Dr. Nansen’s Position.

- Minor Objections.

- Occurrence of Number Three.

- The Wild Grapes.

- The Corn.

- Celtic Legends.

- Correspondence with actual Facts.

IV. SKRÆLINGS

- Testimony of the Íslendíngabók.

- The Skræling Canoes.

- The Skræling Food.

- Personal Appearance.

- The Waving Staves.

- Trading and Fighting.

- The Markland Skrælings.

- Hvítramannaland.

V. THE ‘DÆGR’ AND ‘EYKTARSTAD’ QUESTIONS

- The ‘eyktarstad’ problem.

VI. THE VOYAGES. GENERAL CONSIDERATIONS

- Difficulties of the Task.

- The Cardinal Points.

- The Labrador Theory.

- Storm’s theory—Labrador, Newfoundland, Nova Scotia.

- Theories including New England.

- Postscript on two recent theories.

VII. THE VOYAGES IN DETAIL: BJARNI, LEIF, THORVALD

- Bjarni Herjulfson.

- Leif.

- Thorvald.

VIII. KARLSEFNI’S EXPEDITION

- Date.

- Greenland to Helluland.

- Markland and Bjarney.

- Furdustrands.

- Mr. Babcock’s Theory.

- Cape Cod as Keelness.

- Straumsfjord.

- The Situation of Hóp.

- The Mountains at Hóp.

IX. AFTERMATH AND CONCLUSION.

- Entries in the Annals.

- The New Land.

- The Hönen Runes.

- Voyage of Harald Haardraade.

- Ideas of Icelandic Geography.

- Early Maps.

- Conclusion.

BIBLIOGRAPHY
INDEX
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