CHAPTER IV.
ERIC THE RED.
The fiord on the border of which stands the colony of Julianashaab is now known as the fiord of Igalliko, meaning, “the fiord of the deserted homes:” the deserted homes being the desolate and long-abandoned ruins of the Norse buildings which are scattered along its picturesque banks.
Its ancient name was Ericsfiord, so named by Red Eric, in commemoration of his discovery, and for the perpetuation of his fame—a sad commentary, truly, upon the instability of human designs, that a name meant to recall the memory of a great achievement should be replaced by one expressive of decay and ruin.
This fiord is a grand inlet from the sea, and is from two to five miles wide. To all appearances, it is a great river, flowing along majestically between its banks. It does not, however, stand alone, for there are many others in Greenland that much resemble it. It is one of a multitude of similar inlets that give such peculiar character to the Greenland coast. In fact, there is no other coast like it, if we except that of Norway. But, unlike the fiords of Norway, glaciers descend into nearly all of them. These glaciers, by their steady growth, have changed the aspect of the country greatly since the Northmen first went there and gave it the name which it at present bears. That it is a misnomer, need hardly be mentioned, though the application of it came about in a very simple way. Davis’s “Land of Desolation” suits the country much better than Eric’s “Greenland.”
The name Ericsfiord, like that of Magellan’s Strait, Hispaniola, etc., commemorates a discovery. Perhaps I should rather say, like that of America, it commemorates a re-discovery; for as America was known long before Columbus’s time, so also was Greenland before Eric’s, if we are to credit (and we have no reason to doubt them) the ancient sagas of Iceland. According to these, one Gunnibiorn landed in Greenland in the year 872.
Eric was a high-spirited son of a jarl of Jadar, in Norway, who, opposing the encroachments of the king upon his feudal rights, in common with his class, was forced to flee the country. Escaping with his son, he established himself in Iceland, which was then being peopled by such refugees from tyranny and wrong, and a society was being formed which, for love of liberty and the actual possession of republican freedom, has never been excelled. These Icelanders were then, and they continued to be for centuries afterwards, the most intellectual and refined people of the north of Europe; and this is not surprising when it is remembered that the best blood of Norway and Denmark went to swell its population. In fact, Iceland gave literature and laws to the whole of Scandinavia. The child was wiser than the parent. Her writers first put in shape the Norse mythology; and many of the most distinguished families of Norway and Denmark are now proud to trace their origin back to the old freedom-loving jarls and sea-kings who founded a nation upon a rock which had been forced up by terrestrial fires into an atmosphere so cold and forbidding that the snows gathered upon its lofty summits, while volcanic heat wrestled in the bowels of its mountains.
Eric received his surname of Red, or Rothe, from the color of his hair; and his corresponding disposition doubled the significance of the name when it was made to signify “he of the red hand,” as well as of the red head. The truth is, he was, according to all accounts, much addicted to the then popular pastime of cutting people’s throats; and for his last offense of this description he was banished from Iceland for a space of three years. The immediate offense was for killing a churlish knave who would not return a borrowed door-post, which was always a sacred object, and was preserved with pious care by the Scandinavians. Perhaps if the borrowed article had been a book instead of a door-post, as in the case of fighting St. Colomba, the decree might have been different.
Being banished, where should Eric go? He could not return to Norway, and there was no place where he could set his foot with any safety. So he bethought him of the legendary land of Gunnibiorn, for, according to the Iceland Landnama, or Doomsday-book of Aré the Wise, that was the name of the man who had visited the land to the west of Iceland. This land Eric would go in search of, and risk his life and every thing upon the hazard.
He set sail from Bredifiord, in Iceland, some time during the summer of the year 983, in a small half-decked ship, and in three days he sighted land. Not altogether liking the looks of it, he coasted southward until he came to a turning-place, or Hvarf, now called Cape Farewell. Thence he made his way northward to the present site of Julianashaab, where he passed the three years of his forced exile. He liked the country well, as much as he had disliked it before when he saw it from the other side. Upon the meadow-lands beside the fiord immense herds of reindeer were browsing on the luxurious grass; sparrows chirruped among the branches of the little trees. He thought the place would do to settle in, and named it Greenland.
But to be precise, as it is always well to be, I quote from an old Norse saga of the before-mentioned Aré the Wise—a saga written in Iceland about the year 1100, the original of which was in existence up to 1651, and a copy of which is still preserved in Copenhagen. Thus runs the tale: