Scandinavian Relations with Ireland During the Viking Period

by A. Walsh

I.

The most interesting branch of early Norse literature is the saga or prose story. Of these there are many varieties but the most distinctive are the following: (1) the Íslendinga Sögur, or stories relating to prominent Icelanders, (2) Konunga Sögur, or stories of Kings, chiefly of Norway; (3) Fornaldar Sögur, or stories about early times. All these are essentially Icelandic in origin; sagas having their origin in Norway are by no means unknown, but they are, as a rule, translated or derived from French and other foreign sources.[224] In their present form the sagas relating to the history of Iceland date for the most part from the thirteenth century, though some of them were probably committed to writing in the latter part of the twelfth.

The earliest Icelandic document of which we have any record is the original text of the Laws, said to have been written in the year 1181. Ari’s Íslendinga-Bók, containing a short account of the settlement of Iceland with notices of the more important events, and accounts of the succession of lawmen and bishops, was written a few years later, though the form in which it has come down to us is that of an abbreviated text written about the year 1130. This work, the foundation of all subsequent historical writing in Iceland, contains some short notices, which apparently had been handed down by tradition, but these stories, usually known as sagas, would seem to have been written down somewhat later. Indeed until the close of the twelfth century the language employed for historical writings in Iceland, as elsewhere, was for the most part Latin.

Though the writing of the sagas did not begin until the latter part of the twelfth century, sagas in some form or other must have been in existence much earlier, carried on from generation to generation by oral tradition. This faculty of reciting sagas was a special characteristic of the Icelanders, by whom it was carefully cultivated. In the preface to his Historia Danica Saxo acknowledges his indebtedness to the “men of Thule,” who “account it a delight to learn and to consign to remembrance the history of all nations, deeming it as great a glory to set forth the excellence of others as to display their own. Their stores, which are stocked with attestations of historical events, I have examined somewhat closely and have woven together no small portion of the present work by following their narrative.”[225]

That the art of story-telling did not decline in Iceland even after the majority of the sagas were written down is attested by Sturlunga Saga. Here we are told that when Sturla visited King Magnus’ court at Bergen in 1263 the king received him coldly, but afterwards allowed him to accompany the royal party on a voyage to the south of Norway. In the evening one of the sailors asked if there was anyone among them who could tell stories, but he received no answer. He turned to Sturla, “Sturla, the Icelander, will you entertain us?” “Willingly,” said Sturla. Then he related the story of Huld[226] better and with much more detail than any of those present had ever heard it told before. Then many men made their way to the deck so as to hear as clearly as possible, and there was a great crowd there. The queen asked: “What is that crowd on the deck?” A man answered, “Men who are listening to the tale the Icelander is telling.” “What story is that?” she asked. “It is about a great giantess; it is a good story and well told.” On the following day the queen sent for Sturla and asked him to come and bring with him the saga of the giantess.[227] So Sturla went aft to the quarterdeck and told the story over again. When he had finished, the queen and many of the listeners thanked him and took him to be a learned and wise man.[228]

A much earlier reference to the recitation, and indeed the composition of sagas is found in Thorgils Saga ok Haflitha, in which there is an account of a wedding-feast at Reykholar in 1119:

“There was fun and merriment and great festivity, and all kinds of amusements, such as dancing, wrestling and story-telling… Hrólfr of Skalmarnes told a story about Hrongvithr the Viking, and Olaf ‘the sailor’s king,’ and about the rifling of the barrow of Thrainn the berserkr, and about Hrómundr Gripsson, and he included many verses in his story. King Sverrir used to be entertained with this story, and he declared that fictitious stories like these were the most entertaining of any; and yet there are men who can trace their ancestry to Hrómundr Gripsson. Hrólfr had put this saga together. Ingimundr the priest told the story of Ormr, the poet of Barrey and included many verses in it, besides a good poem which Ingimundr had composed, therefore many learned men regard this saga as true.”[229]

The former of these stories is the Hrómundra Saga which belongs to the class commonly called Fornaldar Sögur.[230]

Still further back in the reign of Harald Hardradith (1047-1066) we have a most important allusion to the art of story-telling. According to the saga[231] a young Icelander came one summer to King Harald seeking his protection. The king received him into his court on the understanding that he should entertain the household during the winter. He soon became very popular, and received gifts from members of the household and from the king himself. Just before Christmas the king noticed that the Icelander seemed dejected, and he asked the reason. The Icelander replied that it was because of his ‘uncertain temper.’

“That is not so,” said the king… “I think your stock of sagas must be exhausted, because you have entertained us all through the winter, whenever you were called upon to do so. Now you are worried because your sagas have come to an end at Christmas time, and you do not wish to tell the same over again.”

“You have guessed rightly,” said the Icelander. “I know only one more saga, but I dare not tell it here, because it is the story of your adventures abroad.”

“That is the saga I particularly want to hear,” said the king, and he asked the Icelander to begin it on Christmas Day and tell a part of it every day. During the Christmas season there was a good deal of discussion about the entertainment. Some said it was presumption on the part of the Icelander to tell the saga and they wondered how the king would like it; others thought it was well told, but others again thought less of it. When the saga was finished, the king, who had listened attentively throughout, turned to the story-teller and said: “Are you not curious to know, Icelander, how I like the saga?”

“I am afraid to ask,” replied the story-teller.

The king said: “I think you have told it very well. Where did you get the material for it, and who taught it to you?”

The Icelander answered: “When in Iceland I used to go every summer to the Thing, and each summer I learned a portion of the saga from Halldór Snorrason.”

“Then it is not surprising that you know it so well, since you have learned it from him,” said the king.

We may in fact see the origin of the Íslendinga Sögur in certain passages of the sagas themselves. In Fóstbroethra Saga, for instance, the story is told of an Icelander named Thormóthr, who went to Greenland in order to avenge the death of his foster-brother Thorgeirr. On one occasion he fell asleep in his booth, and when he awoke some time later he found, to his surprise, that the place was quite deserted. Then his servant Egill “the foolish” came to him and said: “You are too far off from a great entertainment.”

Thormóthr asked: “Where have you come from and what is the entertainment?”

Egill replied: “I have been to Thorgrímr Einarsson’s booth and most of the people who are attending the Thing are there now.”

Thormóthr asked: “What form of amusement have they?”

Egill answered: “Thorgrímr is telling a saga.”

“About whom is the saga?” asked Thormóthr.

“That I do not know clearly,” replied Egill, “but I know that he tells it well and in an interesting manner. He is sitting on a chair outside his booth and the people are all around him listening to the saga.”

Thormóthr said: “But you must know the name of some man who is mentioned in the saga, especially since you think it so entertaining.”

Egill replied: “A certain Thorgeirr was a great hero in the saga, and I think that Thorgrímr himself must have had some connection with it, and played a brave part in it, as is most likely. I wish you would go there and listen to the entertainment.”[232]

Then Thormóthr and Egill went to Thorgrímr’s booth and stood close by listening to the saga, but they could not hear it very distinctly. Thormóthr had, however, understood from Egill’s remarks that this was the same Thorgrímr who had slain his foster-brother and was now recounting his exploits for the amusement of the crowd.

More famous is the scene in Njáls Saga where Gunnar Lambi’s son, who has just arrived at Earl Sigurthr’s palace in the Orkneys is called upon to tell the story of the burning of Njáll’s homestead.

“The men were so pleased that King Sigtryggr [of Dublin] sat on a high seat in the middle, but on either side of the king sat one of the earls… Now King Sitryggr and Earl Gille wished to hear of these tidings which had happened at the burning, and so, also, what had befallen since.

“Then Gunnarr Lambi’s son, who had taken part in the burning was got to tell the tale, and a stool was set for him to sit upon…

“Now King Sigtryggr asked: “How did Skarphethinn bear the burning?”

““Well at first for a long time,” said Gunnarr, “but still the end of it was that he wept.” And so he went on giving an unfair bias to his story, but every now and then he laughed aloud.

“Kári (Kjall’s friend who was listening outside) could not stand this and he then ran in with his sword drawn… and smote Gunnarr Lambi’s son on the neck with such a smart blow that his head spun off on to the board before the king and the earls.

“… Now Flosi undertook to tell the story of the Burning and he was fair to all, and therefore what he said was believed.”[233]

For the way in which such stories were preserved from generation to generation we may refer to the end of Droplaugarsona Saga (Ljósvetninga): “Thorvaldr (born c. 1006) son of Grímr”—one of the chief actors in the story—“had a son called Ingjaldr. His son was named Thorvaldr, and he it was who told the story.”[234]

The passage quoted from Njála Saga and Fóstbroethra Saga seem to show that the art of story-telling was already developed at the beginning of the eleventh century. In these instances, it is true, we have only the records of events given by the actors themselves or by eyewitnesses, and we cannot be certain that such stories had assumed anything like a fixed form. Far more important is the passage from Haralds Saga Hardrada,[235] for there the story-teller was not an eyewitness, but had obtained the story, or the material for it, from Halldór Snorrason, an Icelandic follower of King Harald. From what is said about the length of the saga, there can be no doubt that it had been worked up in a very elaborate way. For such elaborate secondhand stories we have no other definite evidence, but again, considering the time which the recital is said to have occupied, it would be unwise to conclude that this later form of the art was entirely new.

We have, therefore, clearly to distinguish two stages in the history of the oral saga; (i) the story as told by someone who had taken part in the events described; (ii) the secondhand story. The story was soon embellished, especially in the second stage, not merely with such devices as the records of conversation, but even by the introduction of imaginary adventures. Indeed we need not assume that even in the first stage the stories were told in strict accordance with fact. Reference may be made, for instance, to the passage quoted above from Njáls Saga, where Gunnarr Lambi’s son is said to have told the story of the burning unfairly. Even in the Íslendinga and Konunga Sögur fiction forms a not inconsiderable element: in the Fornaldar Sögur it is obviously much greater.

Yet there is good reason for believing that in the main the Íslendinga and Konunga Sögur are historical. This may be seen by the general agreement between the various sagas, since the same characters constantly reappear, and there is little inconsistency with regard to their circumstances or personal traits. Again, the description of houses, ships, weapons, and other articles seems generally to correspond to those known to date from the period to which the stories refer. There is, moreover, one feature which points to a more or less fixed tradition dating from the closing years of the tenth century, namely, the attitude towards those characters who figured prominently in the struggle between Christianity and heathenism. Thus there are indications that the rather unsympathetic representation of Harold Greycloak and his brothers may be due to the fact that they were Christians. Still more significant is the attitude of the sagas towards Haakon the Bad, whose character seems to undergo a great change—probably a reflection of the change in the popular opinion of Christianity.

Sagas like those of Egill and Kormak relating to the middle or first part of the twelfth century are few in number and usually contain a considerable amount of poetry; in fact, the prose is not infrequently based upon the poetry. Stories dealing with early Icelandic history from A.D. 874 onwards and Norwegian history of the same period are much less full. In general they appear to be trustworthy, but the details are such as might have been preserved by local or family tradition without the special faculty which is characteristic of the sagas.

Of a totally different character are the sagas relating to times before the settlement of Iceland (A.D. 874). Some of these, such as Völsunga Saga and Hervarar Saga, deal with events as far back as the fifth century, and are, to a great extent, paraphrases of poems, many of which have come down to us. Very frequently, too, whether based on poems or not, the narrative bears the stamp of fiction.[236]

Conditions in Iceland were especially favourable to the development of the art of story-telling, owing partly to the isolated position of the country itself and to the difficulties of communication across the wide tracts of land separating the various settlements within it, partly also to the love of travel which characterised its inhabitants. In Icelandic literature the recital of stories is mentioned in connection with public meetings—such as the annual general assembly (Althingi)—and with social gatherings at the “winter-nights,” the chief season for hospitality in Iceland, when travellers had returned from abroad.

The Icelanders were famous, too, for the cultivation of poetry. This art was evidently much practised in Norway in early times, but we hear of hardly any Norwegian poets after Eyvindr (c. 980), whereas in Iceland poetry flourished for a considerable period after this. Icelandic poets were received with favour not only in Norway, but elsewhere, for instance, in England and Ireland. It has been stated that sagas dealing with the early part of the tenth century owe a good deal to poetry, while stories relating to times earlier than the settlement of Iceland are often almost entirely dependent on poetic sources. Moreover, the cultivation of poetry probably contributed very largely to the development of the faculty of story-telling, and the two arts may have been practised by the same person. On this point, however, we have no precise information.