In 1402 that terrible plague, the memory of which is still preserved under the name of the “Black Death,” carried off nearly two-thirds of the whole population, and was followed by such an inclement winter that nine-tenths of the cattle in the island died. The miseries of a people suffering from pestilence and famine were aggravated by the English fishermen, who, in spite of the remonstrances of the Danish government, frequented the defenseless coast in considerable numbers, and were in fact little better than the old sea-robbers who first colonized the island, plundering and burning on the main, and holding the wealthy inhabitants to ransom. Their predatory incursions were frequently repeated during the seventeenth century, and even the distant Mediterranean sent its Algerine pirates to add to the calamities of Iceland.
The eighteenth century was ushered in by the small-pox, which carried off sixteen thousand of the inhabitants. In the middle of the century—severe winters following in rapid succession—vast numbers of cattle died, inducing a famine that again swept away ten thousand inhabitants.
Since the first colonization of Iceland, its numerous volcanoes had frequently brought ruin upon whole districts—twenty-five times had Hecla, eleven times Kötlugiá, six times Trölladyngja, five times Oraefa, vomited forth their torrents of molten stone, without counting a number of submarine volcanic explosions, or where the plain was suddenly rent and flames and ashes burst out of the earth; but the eruption of Skaptar Jökul in 1783 was the most frightful visitation ever known to have desolated the island. The preceding winter and spring had been unusually mild, and the islanders looked forward to a prosperous summer; but in the beginning of June repeated tremblings of the earth, increasing in violence from day to day, announced that the subterranean powers that had long been slumbering under the icy mantle of the Skaptar were ready to awake. All the neighboring peasants abandoned their huts and erected tents in the open field, anxiously awaiting the result of these terrific warnings. On the 9th, immense pillars of smoke collected over the hill country toward the north, and, rolling down in a southerly direction, covered the whole district of Sitha with darkness. Loud subterranean thunders followed in rapid succession, and innumerable fire-spouts were seen leaping and flaring through the dense canopy of smoke and ashes that enveloped the land. The heat raging in the interior of the volcano melted enormous masses of ice and snow, which caused the river Skapta to rise to a prodigious height; but on the 11th torrents of fire usurped the place of water, for a vast lava-stream breaking forth from the mountains, flowed down in a southerly direction, until reaching the river, a tremendous conflict arose between the two hostile elements. Though the channel was six hundred feet deep and two hundred feet wide, the lava-flood pouring down one fiery wave after another into the yawning abyss, ultimately gained the victory, and, blocking up the stream, overflowed its banks. Crossing the low country of Medalland, it poured into a great lake, which after a few days was likewise completely filled up, and having divided into two streams, the unexhausted torrent again poured on, overflowing in one direction some ancient lava-fields, and in another re-entering the channel of the Skapta and leaping down the lofty cataract of Stapafoss. But this was not all, for while one lava-flood had chosen the Skapta for its bed, another, descending in a different direction, was working similar ruin along the banks of the Hverfisfliot. Whether the same crater gave birth to both, it is impossible to say, as even the extent of the lava-flow can only be measured from the spot where it entered the inhabited districts. The stream which followed the direction of Skapta is calculated to have been about fifty miles in length by twelve or fifteen at its greatest breadth; that which rolled down the Hverfisfliot, at forty miles in length by seven in breadth.
Where it was inclosed between the precipitous banks of the Skapta, the lava is five or six hundred feet thick, but as soon as it spread out into the plain its depth never exceeded one hundred feet. The eruption of sand, ashes, pumice, and lava continued till the end of August, when at length the vast subterranean tumult subsided.
But its direful effects were felt for a long time after, not only in its immediate vicinity, but over the whole of Iceland, and added many a mournful page to her long annals of sorrow. For a whole year a dun canopy of cinder-laden clouds hung over the unhappy island. Sand and ashes, carried to an enormous height into the atmosphere, spread far and wide, and overwhelmed thousands of acres of fertile pasturage. The Faeroes, the Shetlands, and the Orkneys were deluged with volcanic dust which perceptibly contaminated even the skies of England and Holland. Mephitic vapors obscured the rays of the sun, and the sulphurous exhalations tainted both the grass of the field and the waters of the lake, the river, and the sea, so that not only the cattle died by thousands, but the fish also perished in their poisoned element. The unhealthy air, and the want of food—for hunger at last drove them to have recourse to untanned hides and old leather—gave rise to a disease resembling scurvy among the unfortunate Icelanders. The head and limbs began to swell, the bones seemed to be distending. Dreadful cramps forced the patient to strange contortions. The gums loosened, the decomposed blood oozed from the mouth and the ulcerous skin, and a few days of torment and prostration were followed by death.
In many a secluded vale whole families were swept away, and those that escaped the scourge had hardly strength sufficient to bury the dead.
So great was the ruin caused by this one eruption that in the short space of two years no less than 9336 men, 28,000 horses, 11,461 cattle, and 190,000 sheep—a large proportion of the wealth and population of the island—were swept away.
After this dreadful catastrophe followed a long period of volcanic rest, for the next eruption of the Eyjafialla did not take place before 1821. A twelfth eruption of Kötlugja occurred in 1823, the twenty-sixth of Hecla in 1845–46; and ultimately the thirteenth of Kötlugja in 1860. Since then there has been repose; but who knows what future disasters may be preparing beneath those icy ridges and fields of snow of Skapta and his frowning compeers, where no human foot has ever wandered, or how soon they may awaken their dormant thunders?
Besides the sufferings caused by the elements, the curse of monopoly weighed for many a long year upon the miserable Icelanders. The Danish kings, to whom on the amalgamation of the three Scandinavian monarchies the allegiance of the people of Iceland was passively transferred, considered their poor dependency as a private domain, to be farmed out to the highest bidder. In the 16th century the Hanseatic Towns purchased the exclusive privilege of trading with Iceland; and in 1594 a Danish company was favored with the monopoly, for which it had to pay the paltry sum of 16 rix-dollars for each of the ports of the island.
In the year 1862 a new company paid 4000 dollars for the Icelandic monopoly; but at the expiration of the contract, each of the ports were farmed out to the highest bidder—a financial improvement which raised the revenue to 16,000 dollars a year, and ultimately to 22,000. The incalculable misery produced by the eruption of the Skapta had at least the beneficial consequence that it somewhat loosened the bonds of monopoly, as it now became free to every Danish merchant to trade with the island; but it is only since April, 1855, that the last restrictions have fallen and the ports of Iceland been opened to the merchants of all nations. It is to be hoped that the beneficial effects of free trade will gradually heal the wounds caused by centuries of neglect and misfortune; but great progress must be made before Iceland can attain the degree of prosperity which she enjoyed in the times of her independence.