Be that as it may, this story must weaken our confidence in Adam’s credibility, or rather in his critical sense. If his narrative of a voyage which started from his own adopted town of Bremen not long before his time is so untrustworthy, what are we to think of his statement about the experienced Norwegian king Harold’s expedition to explore the extent of the ocean? No doubt it may appear as though he had his information about this voyage from the Danish king Svein, who is mentioned as his authority for the statements immediately preceding, and so far this information might have a good source; but it has received precisely the same decoration as the other voyage, with the mist or darkness that shuts out the uttermost end of the world, and the vast gulf of the abyss which was narrowly escaped. This is certainly of older origin, and he has not even given himself the trouble to make a little alteration in the dangers of the two stories. Another thing that weakens our confidence in his statements is his saying that the Danish king had told him that all the sea beyond the island of Winland was filled with intolerable ice and immeasurable darkness. It may doubtless be supposed that classical conceptions had even at that time created superstitions of this kind in the North, and thus King Svein may have told him this; but it must be more probable that all these ancient book-learned ideas are due, not to the unlearned and travelled monarch, but to the well-read magister, who moreover himself quotes in the same connection Marcianus’s words about the congealed sea beyond Thule.
It would be entirely in Adam’s vein if some accidental resemblance or association had given him an opportunity of making use in this way of ideas he had from his learned reading, just as the name of Kvænland gave him the chance of bringing in the myths of the Amazons, Cynocephali, etc. (cf. vol. i. p. 383). It was pointed out earlier (vol. i. pp. 195, 197) that the statements about the sea “beyond this island” and about Harold’s voyage are possibly a later addition by Adam himself, which has been inserted in the wrong place; “this island” might then mean Thyle (Iceland) and not Winland. Whether we regard the latter as a newly discovered country in America or as the Insulæ Fortunatæ, it is difficult to understand why precisely the sea on the other side of this island should be particularly associated with the ancient conceptions of the dark or misty, and the congealed or ice-filled sea; ice and darkness are nowhere connected in this way with Wineland in later authorities. It is true that in Arabian myth there are islands in the west near the Sea of Darkness (cf. [chapter xiii.]) and that the Promised Land in Irish myth is surrounded by darkness (== fog) like the Norwegian huldrelands and the Icelandic elflands; but if Adam got his ideas in this way, it would only show more conclusively how mythical his narrative is. If Adam confused the names of Vinland and Finland (i.e., Finmark) (cf. vol. i. pp. 198, 382; vol. ii. [p. 31]), it would also be natural for him to imagine that beyond it were ice and darkness.
Whirlpool
The view has been held that the whirlpool in which King Harold and the Frisian nobles were nearly drawn down was of Scandinavian or Germanic origin [cf. S. Lönborg, 1897, pp. 173, f.]. It seems undoubtedly to correspond to the Norse “Ginnungagap” [cf. G. Storm, 1890, pp. 340, ff.]; but it is a question how early this idea arose. I have already (vol. i. pp. 11, 12, 17) pointed out the probable connection between it and the Greek Tartaros (and Anostos) or Chaos, and have shown (vol. i. pp. 158, f.) that Paulus Warnefridi took his whirlpool from this source, and called it Chaos. But now it is evident, as we have seen, that Adam took his description of the whirlpool from Paulus, and thus we have the full connection. It may also be mentioned as curious that Lucian in his Vera Historia tells of just such an abyss:
“We sailed through a crystal-clear, transparent water until we were obliged to stop before a great cleft in the sea.... Our ship was near being drawn down into this abyss, if we had not taken in the sails in time. As we then put our heads out and looked down, we saw a depth of a thousand stadia, before which our minds and senses stood still....” Finally with great difficulty they rowed across a bridge of water that stretched over the abyss [Wieland, 1789, iv. p. 222].
With this may be compared that in the Irish legend (Imram Maelduin) Maelduin and his companions came to a sea like green glass, so clear that the sun and the green sand of the sea were visible through it. Thence they came to another sea which was like fog (clouds), and it seemed to them that it could hardly support them or their boat; they saw in the sea beneath them people adorned with jewels and a delightful land, etc.; but when they also saw down below a huge monster which devoured a whole ox, they were seized with fear and trembling, for they thought they would not be able to get across this sea without falling through to the bottom, because it was as thin as cloud; but they came over it with great danger [cf. Zimmer, 1889, p. 164].
Although, as already mentioned (vol. i. p. 362), Lucian does not seem to have been read in western Europe before the fourteenth century, I cannot get away from the impression that in some oral way or other (cf. vol. i. pp. 362, f.) there must be a connection between the Irish tale (written down long before Adam of Bremen’s work) and the above-mentioned fable (as well as many others) which Lucian reproduces, whether the connection be with Lucian himself or with the authors he parodies. But then it will not be rash to conclude further that there may also be a connection between the cleft in the sea or profound abyss of Lucian or of Greek fable, from which mariners escaped with difficulty, and Adam’s whirlpool, which King Harold avoided by turning back.
Maelstrom among the Irish
But it is also conceivable that the various currents in northern waters may have furnished food for these constantly recurring ideas about maelstroms and whirlpools. Such maelstroms appear also in Irish legends. In the “Imram Brenaind” [cf. Zimmer, 1889, p. 134] it is related that:
One day the voyagers saw on the ocean deep, dark currents [whirlpools] and their ships seemed to be drawn into them with the force of the storm. In this great danger all eyes were turned upon Brandan. He spoke to the sea, saying that it should be satisfied with drowning him alone, but spare his comrades. Thereupon the sea became calm, and the rushing of the whirlpool ceased immediately; from that time until now it has done no harm to others.