But after all this long description, it is high time that I should
return to the journey itself.
The favourable gale which had thus wafted us to the coast of Iceland
within seven days, now unfortunately changed its direction, and
drove us back. We drifted about in the storm-tost ocean, and many a
Spanish wave {22} broke completely over our ship. Twice we
attempted to approach the Westmann Islands {23} (a group belonging
to Iceland) to watch an opportunity of casting anchor, and setting
ashore our fellow-traveller Herr Bruge; but it was in vain, we were
driven back each time. At length, at the close of the eleventh day,
we reached Havenfiord, a very good harbour, distant nine miles from
Reikjavik, the capital of Iceland.
In spite of the very inopportune change in the direction of the
wind, we had had an unprecedentedly quick passage. The distance
from Copenhagen to Iceland, in a straight line, is reckoned at 1200
geographical miles; for a sailing vessel, which must tack now and
then, and must go as much with the wind as possible, 1500 to 1600
miles. Had the strong wind, which was at first so favourable,
instead of changing on the seventh day, held on for thirty or forty
hours longer, we should have landed in Iceland on the eighth or
ninth day - even the steamer could not have accomplished the passage
so quickly.
The shores of Iceland appeared to me quite different from what I had
supposed them to be from the descriptions I had read. I had fancied
them naked, without tree or shrub, dreary and desert; but now I saw
green hills, shrubs, and even what appeared to be groups of stunted
trees. As we came nearer, however, I was enabled to distinguish
objects more clearly, and the green hills became human dwellings
with small doors and windows, while the supposed groups of trees
proved in reality to be heaps of lava, some ten or twelve feet high,
thickly covered with moss and grass. Every thing was new and
striking to me; I waited in great impatience till we could land.
At length the anchor descended; but it was not till next morning
that the hour of disembarkation and deliverance came.
But one more night, and then, every difficulty overcome, I should
tread the shores of Iceland, the longed-for, and bask as it were in
the wonders of this island, so poor in the creations of art, so rich
in the phenomena of Nature.
Before I land in Iceland, I must trouble the reader with a few
preliminary observations regarding this island. They are drawn from
Mackenzie's Description of Iceland, a book the sterling value of
which is appreciated every where. {24}
The discovery of Iceland, about the year of our Lord 860, is
attributed to the spirit of enterprise of some Swedish and Norwegian
pirates, who were drifted thither on a voyage to the Feroe Isles.
It was not till the year 874 that the island was peopled by a number
of voluntary emigrants, who, feeling unhappy under the dominion of
Harold Harfraga (fine hair), arrived at the island under the
direction of Ingold. {25} As the newcomers are said to have found
no traces of dwellings, they are presumed to be the first who took
possession of the island.
At this time Iceland was still so completely covered with underwood,
that at some points it was necessary to cut a passage. Bringing
with them their language, religion, customs, and historical
monuments, the Norwegians introduced a kind of feudal system, which,
about the year 928, gave place to a somewhat aristocratic
government, retaining, however, the name of a republic. The island
was divided into four provinces, over each of which was placed an
hereditary governor or judge.
The General Assembly of Iceland (called Allthing) was held annually
on the shores of the Lake Thingvalla. The people possessed an
excellent code of laws, in which provision had been made for every
case which could occur.
This state of things lasted for more than 300 years, a period which
may be called the golden age of Iceland. Education, literature, and
even refined poetry flourished among the inhabitants, who took part
in commerce and in the sea-voyages which the Norwegians undertook
for purposes of discovery.
The "Sagas," or histories of this country, contain many tales of
personal bravery. Its bards and historians visited other climes,
became the favourites of monarchs, and returned to their island
covered with honour and loaded with presents. The Edda, by Samund,
is one of the most valued poems of the ancient days of Iceland. The
second portion of the Edda, called Skalda, dates from a later
period, and is ascribed by many to the celebrated Snorri Sturluson.
Isleif, first Bishop of Skalholt, was the earliest Icelandic
historian; after him came the noted Snorri Sturluson, born in 1178,
who became the richest and mightiest man in Iceland.
Snorri Sturluson was frequently followed to the General Assembly of
Iceland by a splendid retinue of 800 armed men. He was a great
historian and poet, and possessed an accurate knowledge of the Greek
and Latin tongues, besides being a powerful orator. He was also the
author of the Heims-kringla.
The first school was founded at Skalholt, about the middle of the
eleventh century, under Isleif, first Bishop of Iceland; four other
schools and several convents soon followed. Poetry and music seem
to have formed a staple branch of education.
The climate of Iceland appears to have been less inclement than is
now the case; corn is said to have grown, and trees and shrubs were
larger and thicker than we find them at present. The population of
Iceland was also much more numerous than it is now, although there
were neither towns nor villages.
