Chapter IX · [continued] (continued 2)

Moreover, the tales, both of Gudleif’s voyage and of Edrisi’s Portuguese adventurers, resemble ancient Irish myths.

Irish myth

In the “Imram Snedgusa acus meic Riagla” [of the tenth or close of the ninth century, cf. Zimmer, 1889, pp. 213, f., 216], the men of Ross slay King Fiacha Mac Domnaill for his intolerable tyranny. As a punishment, sixty couples of the guilty were sent out to sea, and their judgment and fate left to God. The two monks, Snedgus and Mac Riagail, afterwards set out on a voluntary pilgrimage on the ocean—while the sixty couples went involuntarily—and, after having visited many islands,[46] reached in their boat a land in which there were generations of Irish, and they met women who sang to them and brought them to the king’s house (cf. Odysseus’s meeting first with the women in the Phæacians’ land, and their showing him the way to the palace of Alcinous). The king received them well and inquired from whence they came. “We are Irish,” they replied, “and we belong to the companions of Columcille.” Then he asked: “How goes it in Ireland, and how many of Domnaill’s sons are alive?” They answered: “Three Mac Domnaills are alive, and Fiacha Mac Domnaill fell by the men of Ross, and for that deed sixty couples of them were sent out to sea.” “That is a true tale of yours; I am he who killed the King of Tara’s son [i.e., Fiacha], and we are those who were sent out to sea. This commends itself to us, for we will be here till the Judgment [i.e., the day of judgment] comes, and we are glad to be here without sin, without evil, without our sinful desires. The island we live on is good, for on it are Elijah and Enoch, and noble is the dwelling of Elijah....”

The similarity to the meeting of Gudleif and the Icelanders with the likewise exiled great man and chief, who did not give his name but hinted at his identity, is evident. If we suppose that the island Gudleif reached was originally the white men’s, or the holy (baptized) men’s land, then it may be possible that the great man’s words to Gudleif about there being men on the island who were greater (“ríkari”) than he is connected with the mention of Elijah and Enoch.

Thus we see a connection between Gudleif’s voyage (and the exiled Breidvikinge-kjæmpe on the unknown island) and Irish myths and legends, the Arabic tale, and finally the Odyssey. What the mutual relationship may be between Edrisi’s tale and the Irish legends is to us of minor importance. As the Norse Vikings had much communication with the Spanish peninsula[47] it might be supposed that the Norse tale, derived from Irish myths, had reached Portugal; but as the Arabic tale has several similarities to the voyages of Brandan and Maelduin, and to Dicuil’s account of the Faroes (with their sheep and birds), which are not found in the Norse narrative, it is more probable that the incidents in the experiences of the Portuguese adventurers are derived directly from Ireland, which also had close connection with the Spanish Peninsula, chiefly through Norse ships and merchants. We must in any case suppose that the Icelandic tale of Gudleif’s voyage came from Ireland; but it may have acquired additional colour from northern legends.

Northern tales

There is a Swedish tale of some sailors from Getinge who were driven by storms over the sea to an unknown island; surrounded by darkness they went ashore and saw a fire, and before it lay an uncommonly tall man, who was blind; another equally big stood beside him and raked in the fire with an iron rod. The old blind man gets up and asks the strangers where they come from. They answer from Halland, from Getinge parish. Whereupon the blind man asks: “Is the white woman still alive?” They answered yes, though they did not know what he meant. Again he asks: “Is my goat-house still standing?” They again answered yes, though ignorant of what he meant. He then said: “I could not keep my goat-house in peace because of the church that was built in that place. If you would reach home safely, I give you two conditions.” They promised to accept these, and the blind old man continued: “Take this belt of silver, and when you come home, buckle it on the white woman; and place this box on the altar in my goat-house.” When the sailors were safely come home, the belt was buckled on a birch-tree, which immediately shot up into the air, and the box was placed on a mound, which immediately burst into flame. But from the church being built where the blind man had his goat-house the place was called Getinge [in J. Grimm, ii. 1876, p. 798, after Bexell’s “Halland,” Göteborg, 1818, ii. p. 301]. Similar tales are known from other localities in Sweden and Norway. The old blind man is a heathen giant driven out by the Christian church or by the image of Mary (the white woman); sometimes again he is a heathen exile.

Here we have undeniable parallels to the storm-driven Icelanders’ meeting with the exiled Breidvikinge-kjæmpe, who asks after his native place and his woman, Thurid,[48] and who also sends two gifts home, though with very different feelings and objects. It may be supposed that the Swedish-Norwegian tale is derived from ancient myths, and the Icelandic narrative may have borrowed features, not, of course, from this very tale, but from myths of the same type.

Japanese fairy-tale

Remarkable points of resemblance both to the voyages of the Irish (Bran’s voyage) to the Fortunate Isles in the west, and to those of Gudleif and of the eight Portuguese (in Edrisi), are found in a Japanese tale of the fortunate isles of “Horaisan,” to which Moltke Moe has called my attention.[49]

This happy land lies far away in the sea towards the east; there on the mountain Fusan grows a splendid tree which is sometimes seen in the distance over the horizon; all vegetation is verdant and flowering in eternal spring, which keeps the air mild and the sky blue; the passing of time is unnoticed, and death never finds the way thither, there is no pain, no suffering, only peace and happiness. Once on a time Jofuku, body physician to a cruel emperor of China, put to sea on the pretext of looking for this country and seeking for his master the plant of immortality which grows on Fusan, the highest mountain there. He came first to Japan; but went farther and farther out into the ocean until he really reached Horaisan; there he enjoyed complete happiness, and never thought of returning to prolong his tyrant’s life.

The old Japanese wise man, Vasobiove, who had withdrawn from the world and passed his days in contemplative peace, was one day out fishing by himself (to avoid many trivial visits), when he was driven out to sea by a violent storm; he then rowed about the sea, keeping himself alive by fishing. After three months he came to the “muddy sea,” which nearly cost him his life, as there were no fish there. But after a desperate struggle, and finally twelve hours’ hard rowing, he reached the shore of Horaisan. There he was met by an old man whom he understood, for he spoke Chinese. This was Jofuku, who received Vasobiove in friendly fashion and told him his story. Vasobiove was overjoyed on hearing where he was. He stayed there for a couple of hundred years, but did not know how long it was; for where all is alike, where there is neither birth nor death, no one heeds the passing of time. With dancing and music, in conversation with wise and brilliant men, in the society of beautiful and amiable ladies, he passed his days.

But at last Vasobiove grew tired of this sweet existence and longed for death. It was hopeless, for here he could not die, nor could he take his own life, there were no poisons, no lethal weapons; if he threw himself over a precipice or ran his head against a sharp rock, it was like a fall on to soft cushions, and if he threw himself into the sea, it supported him like a cork. Finally he tamed a gigantic stork, and on its back he at last returned to Japan,[50] after the stork had carried him through many strange countries, of which the most remarkable was that of the Giants, who are immensely superior to human beings in everything. Whereas Vasobiove was accustomed to admiration wherever he propounded his philosophical views and systems, he left that country in humiliation; for the Giants said they had no need of all that, and declared Vasobiove’s whole philosophy to be the immature cries of distress of the children of men.

A connection between the intellectual world of China and Japan and that of Europe in the Middle Ages may well be supposed to have been brought about by the Arabs, who penetrated as far as China on their trading voyages, and who, on the other hand, had close communication with Western Europe. Furthermore, it must be remembered how many of our mythical conceptions and tales are more or less connected with India, just as many of the Arabian tales evidently had their birthplace there [cf. E. Rohde, 1900, pp. 191, ff.]; while on the other side there was, of course, a close connection between India and the intellectual world of China and Japan, as shown by the spread of Buddhism. A transference of the same myths both eastward to Japan and westward to Europe is thus highly probable, whether these myths originated in Europe or in India and the East. It is striking, too, that even a secondary feature such as the curdled, dead sea (cf. “Morimarusa,” see vol. i. p. 99; the stinking sea in Edrisi, vol. ii. p. 51) is met with again here as the “muddy sea” without fish (cf. resemblances to Arab ideas, chapter xiii.).

Retrospect

If we now look back upon all the problems it has been sought to solve in this chapter, the impression may be a somewhat heterogeneous and negative one; the majority will doubtless be struck at the outset by the multiplicity of the paths, and by the intercrossing due to this multiplicity. But if we force our way through the network of by-paths and follow up the essential leading lines, it appears to me that there is established a firm and powerful series of conclusions, which it will not be easy to shake. The most important steps in this series are:

(1) The oldest authority,[51] Adam of Bremen’s work, in which Wineland is mentioned, is untrustworthy, and, with the exception of the name and of the fable of wine being produced there, contains nothing beyond what is found in Isidore.

(2) The oldest Icelandic authorities that mention the name of “Vinland,” or in the Landnáma “Vindland hit Góða,” say nothing about its discovery or about the wine there; on the other hand, Are Frode mentions the Skrælings (who must originally have been regarded as a fairy people). The name of Leif Ericson is mentioned, unconnected with Wineland or its discovery.

(3) It is not till well on in the thirteenth century that Leif’s surname of Heppni, his discovery of Wineland (“Vinland” or “Vindland”), and his Christianising of Greenland are mentioned (in the Kristni-saga and Heimskringla), but still there is nothing about wine.

(4) It is not till the close of the thirteenth century that any information occurs as to what and where Wineland was, with statements as to the wine and wheat there, and a description of voyages thither (in the Saga of Eric the Red). But still the accounts omit to inform us who gave the name and why.

(5) The second and later principal narrative of voyages to Wineland (the Flateyjarbók’s Grönlendinga-þáttr) gives a very different account of the discovery, by another, and likewise of the later voyages thither.

(6) The first of the two sagas, and the one which is regarded as more to be relied on, contains scarcely a single feature that is not wholly or in part mythical or borrowed from elsewhere; both sagas have an air of romance.

(7) Even among the Greeks of antiquity we find myths of fortunate isles far in the western ocean, with the two characteristic features of Wineland, the wine and the wheat.

(8) The most significant features in the description of these Fortunate Isles or Isles of the Blest in late classical times and in Isidore are the self-grown or wild-growing vine (on the heights) and the wild-growing (uncultivated, self-sown or unsown) corn or wheat or even cornfields (Isidore). In addition there were lofty trees (Pliny) and mild winters. Thus a complete correspondence with the saga’s description of Wineland.

(9) The various attempts that have been made to bring the natural conditions of the North American coast into agreement with the saga’s description of Wineland are more or less artificial, and no natural explanation has been offered of how the two ideas of wine and wheat, both foreign to the Northerners, could have become the distinguishing marks of the country.

(10) In Ireland long before the eleventh century there were many myths and legends of happy lands far out in the ocean to the west; and in the description of these wine and the vine form conspicuous features.

(11) From the eleventh century onward, in Ireland and in the North, we meet with a Grape-island or a Wineland, which it seems most reasonable to suppose the same.

(12) From the Landnámabók it may be naturally concluded that in the eleventh century the Icelanders had heard of Wineland, together with Hvítramanna-land, in Ireland.

(13) Thorkel Gellisson, from whom this information is derived, probably also furnished Are Frode with his statement in the Islendingabók about Wineland; this is therefore probably the same Irish land.

(14) The Irish happy lands peopled by the síd correspond to the Norwegian huldrelands out in the sea to the west, and the Icelandic elf-lands.

(15) Since the huldre- and síd-people and the elves are originally the dead, and since the Isles of the Blest or the Fortunate Isles of antiquity were the habitations of the happy dead, these islands also correspond to the Irish síd-people’s happy lands, and to the Norwegian huldrelands and the Icelandic elf-lands.

(16) The additional name of “hit Góða” for the happy Wineland and the name “Landit Góða” for huldrelands in Norway correspond directly to the name of “Insulæ Fortunatæ,” which in itself could not very well take any other Norse form. And as in addition the huldrelands were imagined as specially good and fertile, and the underground, huldre- and síd-people or elves are called the “good people,” and are everywhere in different countries associated with the idea of “good,” this gives a natural explanation of both the Norse names.

(17) The name “Vinland hit Góða” has a foreign effect in Norse nomenclature; it must be a hybrid of Norse and foreign nomenclature, through “Vinland” being combined with “Landit Góða,” which probably originated in a translation of “Insulæ Fortunatæ.”

(18) The probability of the name of Skrælings for the inhabitants of Wineland having originally meant brownies or trolls—that is, small huldre-folk, elves or pygmies—entirely agrees with the view that Wineland was originally the fairy country, the Fortunate Isles in the west of the ocean.

(19) The statement of the Icelandic geography, that in the opinion of some Wineland the Good was connected with Africa, and the fact that the Norwegian work, Historia Norwegiæ, calls Wineland (with Markland and Helluland) the African Islands, are direct evidence that the Norse Wineland was the Insulæ Fortunatæ, which together with the Gorgades and the Hesperides were precisely the African Islands.

(20) Even though the Saga of Eric the Red and the Grönlendinga-þáttr contain nothing which we can regard as certain information as to the discovery of America by the Greenlanders, we yet find there and elsewhere many features which show that they must have reached the coast of America, the most decisive amongst them being the chance mention of the voyagers from Markland in 1347. To this may be added Hertzberg’s demonstration of the adoption of the Icelandic game of “knattleikr” by the Indians. The name of the mythical land may then have been transferred to the country that was discovered.

(21) Hvítramanna-land is a mythical land similar to the wine-island of the Irish, modified in accordance with Christian ideas, especially perhaps those of the white garments of the baptized—as in the Navigatio Brandani in reference to the Isle of Anchorites or the “Strong Men’s Isle” (== Starkra-manna-land)—and of the white hermits.

(22) Finally, among the most different people on earth, from the ancient Greeks to the Icelanders, Chinese and Japanese, we meet with similar myths about countries out in the ocean and voyages to them, which, whether they be connected with one another or not, show the common tendency of humanity to adopt ideas and tales of this kind.

But even if we are obliged to abandon the Saga of Eric the Red[52] and the other descriptions of these voyages as historical documents, this is compensated by the increase in our admiration for the extraordinary powers of realistic description in Icelandic literature. In reading Eric’s Saga one cannot help being struck by the way in which many of the events are so described, often in a few words, that the whole thing is before one’s eyes and it is difficult to believe that it has not actually occurred. This is just the same quality that characterises our Norwegian fairy-tales: all that is supernatural is made so natural and realistic that it is brought straight before one. The Icelanders created the realistic novel; and at a time when the prose style of Europe was still in its infancy their prose narrative often reaches the summit of clear simplicity. In part this may doubtless be explained by their not being merely authors, but men of action; their presentment acquired the stamp of real life and the brevity that belongs to the narrator of things seen. And to this, of course, must be added the fact that as a rule the tales were sifted and abridged by generations of oral transmission. In later times this style became corrupted by European influence.

Postscript

After I had given, on October 7, 1910, the outlines of this examination of the sagas of the Wineland voyages before the Scientific Society of Christiania, attention was called in Sweden, by Professor F. Läffler, to the fact that the Swedish philologist, Professor Sven Söderberg, whose early death in 1901 is much to be regretted, had announced views about Wineland similar to those at which I have arrived. The manuscript of a lecture that he delivered on the subject at Lund in May 1898, but which was never printed, was then found, and has been published in the “Sydsvenska Dagbladet Snällposten” for October 30, 1910. As I have thus become acquainted with this interesting inquiry too late to be able to include it in my examination, I think it right to mention it here.

Professor Söderberg thinks, as I do, that there can be no doubt about the Norsemen having discovered a part of North America; but he looks upon the tales of the wine and everything connected therewith as later inventions. He maintains that the name of “Vinland” originally meant grass-land or pasture-land (from the old Norse word “vin” == pasture), therefore something similar to the meaning of Greenland, and that it may have been the name of a country discovered in the west. Curiously enough, I took at first the same view, and thought too that Adam of Bremen might have misunderstood such a word, just as Söderberg thinks; but I allowed myself to be convinced by the linguistic objection that the word “vin” (pasture) seems to have gone out of use before the eleventh century (cf. vol. i. p. 367). However, Söderberg’s reasons for supposing that the word was still in use appear to have weight; and he also makes it probable that the name formed thereby might be Vinland and not Vinjarland. (In support of this Mr. A. Kiær gave me as an example the Norwegian name Vinås.) Professor Söderberg then thinks that Adam of Bremen heard this name in Denmark, and, misinterpreting it as a foreigner to mean the land of wine, himself invented the explanation of the country’s being so called. Söderberg gives several striking examples to show how this kind of “etymologising” was just in Adam’s spirit (e.g., Sconia or Skåne is derived from Old German “sconi” or “schön”; Greenland comes from the inhabitants being bluish-green in the face, etc.). An example from a country lying near Denmark, which appears to me even more striking than those given by Söderberg, is Adam’s explanation of Kvænland as the Land of Women (cf. vol. i. pp. 186, f., 383), the Wizzi as white people, or Albanians, the Huns as dogs, etc. Söderberg has difficulty in explaining the statement about the unsown corn in Wineland; but if he had noticed Isidore’s description of the Insulæ Fortunatæ with the self-grown vine and the wild-growing corn, he would have found a perfectly natural explanation of this also. If Adam had misunderstood a “Vinland” (== grass-land), and then perhaps Finland (Finmark, cf. vol i. p. 382), as meaning the land of wine, it would be just in his spirit to transfer thither Isidore’s description of the Insulæ Fortunatæ; a parallel case is that in interpreting Kvænland as Womanland he transfers thither the myth of the Amazons and its fables, and this in spite of its being a country on the Baltic about which it must have been comparatively easy for him to obtain information. In the same way he transfers to the “island” of Halagland, mentioned immediately before Wineland, an erroneous account of the midnight sun and the winter night taken from older writers (cf. vol. i. p. 194, note 2). But one reason for thinking that “Vinland” really meant the land of wine as early as that time is the circumstance put forward above (vol. i. p. 365), that at about the same time there occurs a Grape-island in the Navigatio Brandani.

Professor Söderberg then goes through the Icelandic accounts of Wineland, and points out, in the same way as has been done in this chapter, that the oldest authorities have nothing remarkable to report about the country, and do not mention wine there, and he rightly lays stress on this being particularly significant in the case of Snorre Sturlason,

“knowing as we do how prone Snorre is to digress from his proper subject, when he has anything really interesting to communicate. The reason must be that he did not know anything particularly remarkable about Wineland; and without doubt this is due to his not having known Adam of Bremen. It has, in fact, been shown that Snorre has not a single statement from Adam.”

Later, Söderberg thinks, Adam of Bremen’s fourth book became known in Iceland, and on the foundation of that the tale of Leif’s discovery of the country with the wine and corn arose, and the later sagas developed, especially that of Thorfinn Karlsevne’s voyage, which he thinks in the main “rests on a truthful foundation,” though he points out that a particular feature like that of the two Scottish runners must be “pure invention, or rather ... borrowed from another saga.” If Professor Söderberg had remarked how most of the incidents in this saga are spurious, he would have found even stronger support for his views in this fact.