ICELANDIC STATISTICS
will interest the reader. From the last census—1855—we learn that the population of the island is 64,603; of that number 52,475 live by farming, and 5,055 by fishing, thus accounting for nearly three-fourths of the whole population. In exact figures the number is only 923 short of that proportion.
There were then in the island 65 persons deaf and dumb, and 202 blind. Curious to observe that, although there previously had been and again may be, there was not then a single watchmaker on the island. The extreme paucity of common tradesmen—less than 11 to the 1000—indicates a very primitive pastoral state of society amongst the islanders; home wants being generally supplied by home skill. The following table is constructed, from data contained in the census, to show at a glance the various occupations of the Icelanders, and also what relative proportion these bear to each thousand of the population.
| Total numbers in the island at census in 1855. | Proportion to each 1000 of the whole population. | ||
| Clergymen, professors and teachers at the college, and employés at churches | 2,365 | 36.61 | |
| Civil officers | 454 | 7.03 | |
| Do. out of office | 140 | 2.17 | |
| Farmers who live by agriculture | 52,475 | 812.27 | |
| Farmers who depend chiefly on the fisheries | 5,055 | 78.25 | |
| Tradesmen as follows: | |||
| Bakers | 10 | 0.16 | |
| Coopers | 35 | 0.55 | |
| Gold and silversmiths | 80 | 1.24 | |
| Carpenters | 61 | 0.94 | |
| Blacksmiths | 80 | 1.24 | |
| Masons | 6 | 0.09 | |
| Millers | 4 | 0.07 | |
| Turners | 8 | 0.13 | |
| Boat builders | 38 | 0.59 | |
| Shoemakers | 18 | 0.28 | |
| Tailors | 27 | 0.41 | |
| Joiners | 174 | 2.69 | |
| Saddlers | 46 | 0.71 | |
| Weavers | 20 | 0.30 | |
| Men who live by other industrial occupations | 103 | 1.59 | |
| Merchants and innkeepers | 730 | 11.30 | |
| Pensioners, and people living on their own means | 356 | 5.51 | |
| Day labourers | 523 | 8.09 | |
| Miscellaneous occupations not classed | 586 | 9.07 | |
| Paupers | 1,207 | 18.68 | |
| Prisoners | 2 | 0.3 | |
| ——— | ——— | ||
| 64,603 | 1000 | ||
There are only sixty-three native Icelandic surnames. Few people have got any; the custom is, after telling one’s own christian name, when asked whose son are you? to answer in old Hebrew fashion, son of, or daughter of so and so. There are 530 men’s christian names, and 529 women’s names in use; so that there need be no lack for choice of names in a large family. Many of them, slightly modified in spelling, are familiar to us, but chiefly as surnames, e.g. Kettle, Halle, Ormur, Gils, Olafur, &c.
The number of individuals bearing certain names, is all duly recorded in the last census. I note a few of them, from which the reader may infer that Casa’s droll extravaganza, depreciating the name John under its various forms, is as applicable to Iceland as to Italy; and that Sigridur, Kristin, and Helga, are favourite names among the ladies.
The figures in the following list indicate the total number of persons, in the whole island, who bear these respective names.
Andros, 136; Ausumunder, 125; Bjarni, 869; Einer, 878; Eiriken, 351; Gísli, 681; Gunnar, 150; Halldor, 428; Johann, 494; Johannus, 498; Jón, 4827; Magnus, 1007; Odin, 169; Olafur, 992; Thordur, 445; Thorwaldsen, 106 &c.
Female names:—Anna, 869; Elin, 438; Elizabeth, 194; Gróa, 269; Halldóra, 515; Helga, 1135; Johanna, 630; Kristin, 1615; Rosa, 269; Sigridur, 2641; Lilja, 120; Soffia, 182; Thorbjörg, 436; Sessilja, 326 &c.
Half-past 6 P.M. Looking back to Portland Huk, over the light-green sea with its white crested waves, the reddish brown fantastic islets, and the singular arched opening in the rock—Dyrhólaey—show distinctly and beautifully against the amber light of the horizon.
As we paced the deck, talking about the old Norse language—which is still spoken in Iceland as it used to be in the eighth and ninth centuries in Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, in the Orkney, Shetland, and Faröe islands, in the two northern counties of Scotland, and in other Scandinavian settlements along the British coast—Dr. Mackinlay remarked, that “so well had the language been preserved, an Icelander of the present day had no difficulty in understanding the most ancient writings of his country.” This can be said of no other tongue in western Europe.
To this—the very language of the Vikings—both the old lowland Scotch, and, at a further remove, our modern English, chiefly owe their directness, expressiveness, and strength.
Many words, which we now use with a secondary or restricted meaning, still retain their primitive signification in Icelandic. Thus the word “smith”—a contraction for smiteth—which with us is restricted to a worker in metals, in Icelandic still retains its old sense of handcraftsman. Hence the Icelander not only talks of a goldsmith as a guldsmidr, a silversmith as silfursmidr, but of a saddler as södlasmidr, a cooper as a koparsmidr, a shoemaker as a skórsmidr, a joiner as a trésmidr, a builder as a husasmidr, a printer as a prentsmidr, a blacksmith as a jarnsmidr, a cabinet-maker as a skrinsmidr, a watchmaker as an ursmidr, and, in a metaphorical sense, of a poet or ode-writer as an odarsmidr; just as the Anglo-Saxons talked of a warrior as a war-smidr.
Over a narrow strip of low sand-beach, the near snow-mountains and icefields, like frosted silver burnished in parts, now lie gleaming with dazzling brightness in the sun; coloured here and there with living gem-like streaks of opal, amber, crimson, and orange which glow yet more intensely, as if the snow and ice had been magically touched with an unextinguishable pencil of fire.
PART OF MYRDALS JÖKUL AND KÖTLUGJÁ RANGE.
Portland point is left astern, and over it, dark clouds, of a leaden hue and ruddy edges, came down to within a short distance of the transparent glowing horizon. The coast-range and islets, off the point, are deep purple, relieved against a narrow golden belt of light below the leaden cloud. In it, hang motionless a few cloud streaks—light, fleecy, purplish gray—and, lower down, others of only a lighter amber than the pure ether in which they float.
The sea is of a light sap green; the level sun-glare slants across the wake of the steamer, and touches the crested waves; while a line of light, like a silvery mist, marks the edge of the sea, by running along the coast at the foot of the snow-capped hills. Sea-gulls flying about are following the vessel, and screaming with delight or expectation. All is a perfect study of colour—warm purples, glowing ambers, fiery crimsons, and cool greens—each heightened by neutral tints in the clouds, and crests of white foam, little more than a ripple, on the green sea. I walked the deck for two hours with the captain, and turned in at eleven o’clock.
Friday morning. We are passing Oræfa Jökul, which, by the latest measurement, rises 6,405 English feet above the sea level, and is the highest mountain in the island. It is an immense mass, covered with snow and ice, and exhibiting glaciers creeping down to the sea. Sometimes the internal heat of this volcano melts and cracks the surface ice-mail, so that it splinters and rushes down the sides as an avalanche of ice and water, filling up hollows and valleys. When in action it only ejects ashes and pumice; never lava.[[31]] By the side of the mountain is a gently sloping snow-field, with several pointed black peaks rising abruptly out of it. This field stretches away far inland. Dr. Mackinlay tells me that, from the land-side, Oræfa appears a double-peaked broad shouldered mountain; one of the peaks or ridges presenting a deep scarped side like that of Salisbury Crags.[[32]]
With but few interruptions, a chain of snow-mountains stretches across the island, from Snæfells Jökul in the west, to Thrandar Jökul in the east; while the central desert or plain, running across from sea to sea between this range and that on the south-east, is nearly 100 miles broad, from 2000 to 2200 feet above the sea level, and only 400 or 500 feet from the snow-line. The south-east corner of the island is an enormous unexplored snow or ice plateau, called Klofa or Vatna Jökul, of about 2400 square miles, chiefly covered with, or at all events surrounded by ranges of jökuls, over which Oræfa, the most southern jökul of this unexplored region and the king of Iceland mountains, keeps watch and ward.
Away to the north-west, bounding this icy region on the west, rises Skaptár Jökul, by far the most destructive volcano in the island.[[33]] And “in no part of the world,” remarks Dr. Lindsay, “are volcano phenomena on so gigantic a scale as in Iceland. In it there are lava streams fifty miles long, twelve to fifteen miles broad and six hundred feet deep. Portions of these streams sometimes form hills as high as Arthur’s Seat or Salisbury Crags; and such is the persistence of the heat, that rents in the lava have been found still smoking, or filled with hot water, so long as eleven years after an eruption. In no part of the world of the same extent, are there so many widely separate vents or foci—about twenty—of subterranean igneous action. The boiling springs which are most numerous, show of themselves that such action is going on under the whole island. The calculations of Professor Bischoff show, that the mass of lava thrown up by the eruption of Skaptár Jökul, A.D. 1783, was greater in bulk than Mont Blanc. A larger mass of lava by far, than was ever thrown out from a single volcano, at any time, in any part of the world.”
As a particular example of the ravages produced by these terrible convulsions of nature may give the reader a clearer and more vivid idea of their action, than any general description, we shall select the
ERUPTION OF SKAPTÁR JÖKUL,
in 1783; it having been not only very violent, but the one of which we possess the fullest and most authentic accounts.
“The preceding winter and the spring of that year had been unusually mild, and nothing seemed to foretell the approaching danger, till towards the end of May, when a light bluish fog was seen floating along the ground, succeeded in the beginning of June by earthquakes, which daily increased in violence till the 8th of that month. At nine in the morning of that day numerous pillars of smoke were noticed rising in the hill country towards the north, which, gradually gathering into a dark bank, obscured the atmosphere, and proceeding in a southerly direction against the wind, involved the whole district of Sida in darkness, showering down sand and ashes to the thickness of an inch. This cloud continued to increase till the 10th, when fire-spouts were observed in the mountains, accompanied by earthquakes. Next day the large river Skaptaá, which in the spring had discharged a vast quantity of fetid water, mixed with gravel or dust, and had lately been much swollen, totally disappeared. This incident was fully accounted for on the 12th, when a huge current of lava, burst from one side of the volcano, and rushed with a loud crashing noise down the channel of the river, which it not only filled, but even overflowed, though in many places from four to six hundred feet deep and two hundred broad. The fiery stream after leaving the hills, threatened to deluge the low country of Medalland, when a lake that lay in its way intercepted it during several days. But at length the incessant torrents filled the basin, and proceeded in two streams, one to the east, where its progress was for a short time interrupted by the Skalarfiall, up which, however, the accumulating flood soon forced its way, rolling the mossy covering over the mountain before it like a large piece of cloth. The other current directed its progress towards the south, through the district of Medalland, passing over some old tracts of lava, which again began to burn, whilst the air in its cavities escaped with a strange whistling noise, or suddenly expanding, threw up immense masses into the air to the height of more than 120 feet. The waters of the rivers, swollen by the melting of the Jökuls in the interior, and intercepted in their course by the glowing lava, were thrown into a state of violent ebullition, and destroyed many spots spared by the fire. In this district, the liquid matter continued to flow to the 20th of July, following principally the course of the Skaptaá, where it poured over the lofty cataract of Stapafoss, filling up the enormous cavity the waters had been hollowing out for ages. During the whole of this eruption, the atmosphere was filled with mephitic vapours, or darkened with clouds of ashes, by which the sun was either concealed from the miserable inhabitants, or appeared like a blood-red globe, adding to their terror and consternation.
“The molten elements had so long confined their fury to the Skaptaá, that the inhabitants of the eastern district on the Hverfisfliot, though much incommoded by the showers of ashes, hoped to escape its more immediate visitations. But on the 28th of June, a cloud of sand and smoke caused so thick a darkness, that in the houses at noon, a sheet of white paper, held opposite the window, could not be distinguished from the black walls, whilst red-hot stones and dust burnt up the pastures, poisoned the waters, and threatened to set fire to the dwellings. On the 3d of August a thick vapour rising from the Hverfisfliot, the entire disappearance of its waters, and a foaming fire-stream, which on the 9th rushed with indescribable fury down its bed, overflowing the country in one night to the extent of more than four miles, converted the fearful anticipations of the natives into dreadful realities. The eruptions of sand, ashes, pumice, and lava continued till the end of August, when the volcano appeared completely exhausted; but flames were still seen in February, 1784, and thick clouds of smoke, even in July of that year. The whole catastrophe closed in August with an earthquake of such extreme violence that men were thrown to the ground.
“The immediate source whence this enormous mass of matter issued is entirely unknown, being situated in that great central desert of sand and snow which none of the natives have ever penetrated; and no traditions of any former occurrence of this kind have been preserved. Some persons who went up into the mountains during the continuance of the eruption were, in consequence of the thick smoke, compelled to return, and some subsequent attempts met with no better success. It is not even known whether the current that flowed from the Skaptaá and that in the Hverfisfliot proceeded from the same crater; it is, however, probable their sources were different though closely connected.
“The extent of the lava can only be accurately known in the inhabited districts. The stream that flowed down the Skaptaá is calculated at about fifty miles in length, by twelve or fifteen at its greatest breadth: that in the Hverfisfliot at forty miles in length by seven in breadth. In the narrow channel of the Skaptaá it rose to 500 or 600 feet; but in the plains its extreme height does not exceed 100, and in many places is only eight or ten feet. From its immense thickness, it was a long time in cooling, being so hot in July 1784, twelve months after the eruption, that Mr. Stephenson could not cross it, and even then sending up a thick smoke or steam. In the year 1794 it still retained an elevated temperature, emitting vapours from various places, and many of its crevices being filled with warm water. This long retention of heat will appear more extraordinary, when we consider the numerous globular cavities and fissures it contained, permitting a free circulation of the water and atmosphere.
“The destructive effects of this volcano were not confined to its immediate vicinity, vast quantities of sand and ashes being scattered over the remoter parts of the country, and some were conveyed to the Faröe islands, a distance of nearly 300 miles.[[34]] The noxious vapours that for many months infected the air were equally pernicious to man and beast, and covered the whole island with a dense fog which obscured the sun, and was perceptible even in England and Holland. The steam rising from the crater, or exhaled from the boiling waters, was condensed in the cooler regions of the atmosphere, and descended in floods that deluged the fields and consolidated the ashes into a thick black crust. A fall of snow in the middle of June, and frequent showers of hailstones of unusual magnitude, accompanied with tremendous thunder-storms, tearing up huge fragments of rock, and rolling them down into the plains, completed the scene of desolation. The grass and other plants withered, and became so brittle that the weight of a man’s foot reduced them to powder; and even where the pastures seemed to have recovered, the cattle refused to touch them, dying of actual starvation in the midst of the most luxuriant herbage. Small unknown insects covered many of the fields, while other portions of the soil, formerly the most fertile, were changed by the ashes into marshy wastes overgrown with moss and equiseta. A disease resembling scurvy in its most malignant type attacked both men and cattle, occasioned in the former no doubt by the want of food, and the miserable, often disgusting, nature of that which alone they could obtain. Many lived on the bodies of those animals which had perished from hunger or disease, whilst others had recourse to boiled skins, or substances still more nauseous and unwholesome. The numerous earthquakes, with the ashes and other matter thrown into the sea, caused the fish to desert many parts of the coast; whilst the fishermen, seldom daring to leave the land enveloped in thick clouds during most of the summer, were thus deprived of their usual stock of winter provisions. We cannot better conclude this frightful catalogue of evils, than by the following summary of the numbers of men and cattle more or less immediately destroyed by it in two years. The most moderate calculation makes these amount to 1300 human beings, 19,488 horses, 6,801 horned cattle, and 129,937 sheep.” Stephenson makes these numbers still higher and says, “9,336 men, 28,000 horses, 11,461 cattle, and 190,488 sheep.”[[35]]
Fine dust and vapour from this terrific eruption overspread Asia, Europe, and America during the whole summer. Franklin speculated on the cause of this haze, and Dr. Mackinlay reminded me that Cowper, who frequently refers to it in his letters, has, in the second Book of the “Task,” a beautiful allusion to it, and also to the earthquake in Calabria which occurred nearly at the same time as the Skaptár eruptions:
“Fires from beneath, and meteors from above,
Portentous, unexampled, unexplained,
Have kindled beacons in the skies; and th’ old
And crazy earth has had her shaking fits
More frequent, and foregone her usual rest.
Is it a time to wrangle, when the props
And pillars of our planet seem to fail,
And Nature, with a dim and sickly eye,
To wait the close of all?”
A.D. 1784, the year after the outbreak of Skaptár, which left the whole island in mourning, was almost as memorable for earthquakes, not only in Iceland, but in many parts of the world widely separated from each other, as 1755 had been in connection with the eruption of Kötlugjá.
Most of the Icelandic mountains are volcanic, and, from the native history, we learn the frequency with which they have manifested this character. Let us glance at the following brief sketch of their