THE REMEMBRANCE OF ICELAND.
I.
Old land of ice,
Dearly beloved native land,
Fair maid of the mountains!
Dear thou shalt be to thy sons
As long as land is surrounded by sea;
As men love women;
Or sun-gleam falls on the hill-side.
II.
Here, from the midst of Copenhagen’s smoke,
We all yearning after home
Long, dear one, again to behold thee.
The noisy din irks us;
Revelry tempts us in vain;
And the fool jeers contemptuously at us
In the streets of Copenhagen.
III.
We are tired of a mountainless land;
We are constantly losing our health
In this smoky thick atmosphere;
I find this country everywhere
To be destitute of fine features,
A land like a face without nose,
And even without eyes.
IV.
How different it is to see
Thy high-peaked head-dress of snowy white[[15]]
Reaching the cloudless sky;
Or the crystal rivers
Which sparkle in the sunshine;
And the bright blue heavens
Over the jökul’s brow.
V.
Old land of ice,
Dearly beloved native land,
Fair maid of the mountains!
The best luck attend thee
Ever, we pray,
As long as shall last
All the years of the world!
One or two old Icelandic airs linger amongst the people, but are seldom heard; and as there was—so I understood the Governor to say—no musical notation to hand them down, little reliance can be placed on their accurate transmission.
I was introduced to the Compte d’Ademas of the Artemise frigate, an officer who speaks English well. He is Lord Dufferin’s cousin. There were several other French officers present. After leaving the Governor’s, we called for M. Randröp, the state’s apothecary, who received us in the wonted hospitable Icelandic manner. Madam Randröp kindly played to us on the piano-forte “Robin Adair,” “Cheer Boys,” “Fin chan dal vino,” “Hear me, Norma,” a Danish dance, and an Icelandic song. Her two daughters, the Misses Müller, are learning English, and her son is going south by our steamer to attend the university at Copenhagen.
The Arcturus having left the bay and gone somewhere for cargo, and the few bedrooms upstairs at the hotel being all occupied, as it was late, we resolved to sleep down stairs on the narrow sofa-seat which runs round the assembly room.
Through a large door, that opened into the billiard-room, came the loud clicking of ivory balls, noisy vociferations from the French sailors, and strong fumes of tobacco; notwithstanding which, we somehow contrived to fall asleep, and knew no more till the morning, when we beheld blue-eyed flaxen-haired Thea, the maid-of-all-work, standing before us. She was clad in a close fitting dress of home-made stuff, wore the common little jaunty black cap with its silver ornament and long silk tassel flowing down at the side of her head, and her waist-belt was covered with richly-wrought filigreed bossy silver ornaments.
She brought in a cup of coffee and milk and a biscuit, depositing them on a little table which she placed beside my long narrow couch. This good old Norse custom is called “the little breakfast;” and, from the experience of years, I can testify that in no way does it interfere with or spoil the regular breakfast which follows, while the benefit at the time is undeniable.
Then followed water, soap and towels, indicating that we were expected to get up; and as breakfast was to be served in the apartment where we lay, Thea’s hint was speedily taken.
After breakfast I called for Mr. Sivertsen, who procured for me some coarse mits, made with two thumbs but no finger-divisions. These are the customary wear of the fishermen, who, when the line cuts the one side, are thus enabled to turn them and use the other. I also obtained a curious snuff box like a bottle,[[16]] made of walrus-tooth; a collection of stuffed birds, with a large black skua, a pair of Richardson’s skua-gulls, a pair of jer-falcons, an eider duck and drake, a puffin, an arctic gull, and a pair of pheasant-tailed ducks among them; also silver bracelets and brooches of exquisite workmanship. These trinkets are made of Danish dollars by native silver-smiths, who have certainly arrived at great proficiency in their art.
I found that the few English Testaments I had brought with me to give away, were greatly prized by those who were acquiring our language; the cheapest edition of the New Testament in Icelandic costs between three and four shillings.
Last night Captain Launay, of the Agile French war brig, had called at the hotel and invited us to visit him, on board his vessel, to-day at 11 o’clock. At the appointed time we went down to the jetty and found a ten-oared boat waiting for us. Our party consisted of Dr. Mackinlay, Captain Forbes, Mr. Haycock, Rector Jonson and his daughter, Professor Chadbourne, and myself. We were kindly received and shown over the brig; everything on board was neat and clean; the sailors were, for the most part, diminutive in size, like Maltese, and, although lithe and agile, wanted the physical build and stamina of British sailors. The men were at mess and seemed to be well cared for.
In the captain’s cabin, cakes, bonbons, and champagne were produced, and we were entertained by the officers with that frank and graceful hospitality peculiar to the French. Captain Launay showed us collections of geological specimens from Faröe, from the east of Iceland, and also from the neighbourhood of Reykjavik; all kept distinctly separated, and laudably labelled as such specimens ever ought to be. He offered me what of them I wished, and then addressing Professor Chadbourne, added, “Take all, and leave me one, I am only an amateur”! He gave me some Faröese sea-weeds of his own preserving, and I also accepted one or two little geological specimens as mementos of a pleasant hour spent with one who is deservedly a favourite with all who know him.
The sailors, he told me, called him Captain Long-life, because he has been five years in the north without losing a man. His present crew is a hundred, but during that period, he has, one way and another, passed a thousand men through his hands. This happy result he attributes partly to the regular use of lime juice, which he flavours and renders palatable by mixing it with a little brandy or rum. The addition of the spirits adds nothing to its virtue, probably the reverse, but the sailors like it so, and are thus induced to take it. In many ships, he added, the men, if not watched, throw it over their heads into the sea.
A boat came alongside with an invitation from Captain Véron for us also to visit his frigate the Artemise. It has a crew of 250. The men were at mess between-decks; and, both seats and tables being swung, the perpendicular ropes made the whole look not unlike the floor of a great factory. An officer took me over the ship and through the stores. What an immense establishment is a war ship!
The French officers are well paid, and have a handsome allowance per day for mess, over and above their pay. On this station they have double pay, are put to little expense, consequently save money fast, and get leave of absence now and again to go home and spend it. Here we were again offered champagne but declined it; and, at half-past one P.M., were rowed ashore in a ten oared gig, much pleased with the kind frank attentions of all the officers.
When we landed I called for Mr. Sivertsen, and afterwards visited the library with Dr. Mackinlay. The Rev. Olaf Pálsson dean and rector of the cathedral, and Mr. Jón Arnason, secretary to the Bishop and also librarian, were there before us by appointment and kindly gave us every information we required. There were no manuscripts to be seen here older than the fifteenth century, and these were chiefly genealogies, or translations of mediæval tales or romances such as “Charlemagne.” We saw a fine folio edition of Snorro Sturleson’s writings, and hastily looked over the work on Iceland got up by the French expedition under Gaimard. It embraces views of places, natural history, manners and customs, costumes &c. Some views of localities we had visited were very good, but others were inaccurate and careless, being only modified compositions instead of faithful representations of the places indicated. Ere leaving, I received several original little works, in Icelandic, both from the dean and the librarian; those from the former were inscribed in English “with the author’s best respects;” and those from the latter with a legend of similar import in Icelandic.
As the althing or parliament, which ceased to meet at Thingvalla in A.D. 1800, was now assembled here, we went to see it. The place of meeting is an oblong hall in the same building as the college. You enter by the side, and see, facing you, a raised platform where the president and two or three officials sit at a table covered with papers and writing materials. Portraits in oil of the King and Queen of Denmark hung behind them. On two rows of seats, like school forms with simple spar backs, sit the members, forming an oblong square around the table; visitors find places outside this square. There are several writing desks and other conveniencies in the room.
The most of the deputies were sturdy intelligent looking men—peasant-farmers dressed in brass buttoned wadmal jackets, and wearing cow-skin shoes. On rising to speak, many of them expressed themselves in an animated manner, which seemed to us, with the aid of Mr. Brynjúlfsson’s explanations and interpretations, to be at once fluent, pointed, eloquent, and effective.
The population of Iceland is, as already stated, 64,603. Parliament meets every second year, and is composed of a deputy from each of the eighteen syssels or counties into which the island is divided, and six deputies, generally officials, nominated by the King. The members are elected by household suffrage, but, on account of the great distances, and the bad roads, few people care to vote. Dr. Mackinlay mentioned one case, at last election, where a member had only one single vote—and that his own!! This indifference to matters political, as contrasted with the stirring old times when the Althing was supreme—being then both deliberative and executive, “parliament and high court of justice in one”—may be accounted for, by the fact that it does not now possess legislative power. The result of its deliberations is merely a petition to the King, suggesting that certain things should be done; and only under certain circumstances, can they levy taxes or recommend them.
The island is divided into three governments, each government being in civil matters quite independent of the others. The governor or stiftsamptsman who resides at Reykjavik, is at the head of the civil administration, “conducts all public affairs, presides in the supreme courts of justice, watches over the execution of the laws, the collecting and expenditure of the public revenue, and, along with the Bishop, directs the school, and appoints the clergy” throughout the whole island. The governor is sometimes a native of the island, though oftener a Dane. “He continues in office five years, with a salary of about £300 per annum, and is entitled to promotion on his return to Denmark. Under him are the amptmen, of whom there ought to be four, but as the governor holds this office in the southern province, and the northern and eastern are united, there are only two others. These have the superintendence of the inferior officers, and nearly the same duties in their province as the governor exercises in relation to the whole island. Subordinate to them are the sysselmen or sheriffs, nineteen in number, who are empowered to hold courts, appoint justices of the peace and notaries, and to administer the laws concerning inheritances. They are chosen by the crown from among the principal proprietors in the district. Under these are the hrepp-stiorar or bailiffs, who assist the sheriff in preserving the peace and public order, and have at the same time, the charge of the poor.
“All causes civil and criminal, come in the first instance before the sysselman in the Heradsthing, one of which is held regularly, once in twelve months, though extraordinary sessions are also called. This court consists of the sheriff as judge, with four assistants named meddomsmen. The landfoged or steward, who is receiver-general of the island, and police-master of Reykjavik, holds a similar court in that town. From their decision there is an appeal to the highest tribunal, instituted in A.D. 1800, on the suppression of the althing, and which consists of the governor as president, who takes no part in the proceedings, a chief-justice, two assessors, a secretary, and two public pleaders. Cases are here decided according to the native laws, or Jonsbook, introduced in A.D. 1280, and the latter royal ordinances; and from their judgment the last appeal lies to the supreme court of Copenhagen. The high moral character of the people renders the last court nearly a sinecure,—not more than six or eight cases, public or private, occurring annually. The crimes are mostly sheep-stealing and small thefts, and the only punishments inflicted in the country are whipping or fines. Those condemned to hard labour are sent to Copenhagen; and a peasant, being capitally convicted many years ago, for murdering his wife, it was found necessary to carry him to Norway for execution.
“The taxes collected in the island, being very inconsiderable, impose little burthen on the inhabitants. They are principally levied on property according to several old customs; and payment is chiefly made in produce of various kinds, which is converted into money by the sysselman, and transmitted, after deducting a third for his own salary, to the landfoged or treasurer. The whole amount does not exceed 50,000 rix-dollars, and does not even suffice for the support of the civil government of the island.”[[17]]
The machinery of civil government is well arranged; but the people are peaceable, and to a large extent govern themselves; thus rendering the duties of the officials very light. In reference to this pleasant state of matters, Dr. Mackinlay quaintly remarked, “Each country is presided over by a sysselman or sheriff, who, besides his judicial duties, has to discharge the duties of lord lieutenant and revenue officer, postmaster, poorlaw guardian and head constable. As the average population of each syssel is only 3700, he has, after discharging all his duties, time enough on hand to be his own clerk and message boy!”
At five o’clock, Dr. Mackinlay, Mr. Haycock, Dr. Livingston, Professor Chadbourne, and myself, dined at the hotel, with Gísli Brynjúlfsson, Mr. Bushby, and Captain Forbes; it was our last dinner at Reykjavik. The Arcturus is to sail with us to-night at ten o’clock for the east of the island. All last things have a touch of sadness about them; we have been happy together, and shall not likely all meet again.
Mr. Murray and Mr. Cleghorn have not yet returned from Krisuvik. Gísli Brynjúlfsson the poet is an M.P., and at present here to attend the althing. He is employed, as already mentioned, by the government at Copenhagen in connection with Icelandic antiquities and literature, and has a work on these subjects in preparation. He speaks English fluently, and gave us much interesting information.
After dinner Dr. Mackinlay called with me for Mr. Jón Gudmundsson, editor of the “Thióthólfr,” a Reykjavik newspaper—a quarto sheet of 8 pp.—in which, along with other news, the proceedings of the althing now sitting are reported in a condensed form. No particular time is fixed for publication, so that it appears at irregular intervals when there is news to communicate. Mr. Gudmundsson is an advocate, and holds an official appointment in the althing. He presented us with several numbers of his paper. The type is clear and the paper good, so that it and another Reykjavik newspaper the “Islendingur,” a folio of 8 pp.,—both printed at the same government office—are without exception the most beautifully printed newspapers I ever saw anywhere.
In Mr. Gudmundsson’s house we saw medallions of Finn Magnusen, Finnsen, and other distinguished Icelanders. He was exceedingly polite and courteous, but, as we knew he must be much occupied at present, we made our visit a short one.
We then saw Dr. Hjaltalin, chief physician of the island, and well known for his antiquarian and scientific acquirements. He and Rector Jonson are good, tall, portly specimens of humanity. The latter good-naturedly told me that when some one called him a John Bull, although he did not quite understand the phrase, he knew that it somehow associated him with England, and, for that reason, felt “flattered—very much flattered!”
Our friends returned while we were making calls, and describe their moonlight ride of thirty miles to Krisuvik as more like a wild dream of chaos than a reality. Their path lay among lava chasms, along the tops of narrow lava ridges, irregularly jugged like a saw; through huge lava blocks, like ten thousand Stonehenges huddled together; over volcanic sand and cinder heaps; over hollow lava domes, and through great burst lava bubbles, or extinct craters. Lava everywhere, parts seemed like a troubled sea which had been suddenly spelled into stone, and then roasted, baked and cracked. This scene has been aptly characterized by an old traveller as “a congealed pandemonium.” In a boggy valley were seen several boiling mud-caldrons, which exhale sulphurious fumes. These gases condense in the atmosphere and deposit a crust of sulphur, in layers of various thickness, on the coloured clay banks on the side of the hill. Many jets of steam and smoke rose around; while on their right lay the lovely blue lake of Kleifervatn. Mr. Bushby had kindly furnished them with a letter to his agent, which procured for them such shelter and creature comforts as his iron house could afford.
It was now about 9 o’clock; and, not without sincere regret, on pushing off from the shore, did we bid adieu to those kind-hearted, learned, yet simple-minded gentlemen at Reykjavik, who had done so much to make our visit to their island a pleasant one.
While some ponies were being taken on board from a large boat alongside, the steam was suddenly blown off; the noise frightening them, one jumped into the sea and swam ashore, a distance of a mile, with a boat after it. However it was got on board again, none the worse for its adventure. It turned out to be a pony which Mr. Murray had purchased, and was taking south with him to Long-yester.
Mr. Brynjúlfsson had accompanied me to the steamer, and, before starting, Mr. Arnason also came on board to bid us another adieu!
ORÆFA JÖKUL, THE HIGHEST MOUNTAIN IN ICELAND.