Scandinavian Relations with Ireland During the Viking Period

by A. Walsh

“… 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.