SECTION V. ANTHROPOLOGY.
Reading edition
Statistics—General Considerations—Personal Appearance—Character—The Family—Diseases.
§ 1. Statistics.
The constitution of society and the physical features of Iceland are peculiarly favourable to numbering the people. The island has no object either to diminish her total in order to avoid recruiting, and has scant interest in exaggerating it with a view to urban concessions and civic privileges. Between A.D. 1840-60 the census was quinquennial; since that time every decade has been deemed sufficient.
The following numbers are taken from various sources, and especially from the latest official figures in the Skýrslur of October 1, 1870:
O. Olavius Ponteppidan Thaarup, etc.
S. Qr.W. Qr.N. & E. Qrs.Total.
In A.D.1703,18,72815,77415,94250,444
”1769,17,15013,59615,45546,201
In A.D. 1770 Uno Von Troil (p. 25) estimated the population at 60,000 souls, or about 10,000 more than sixty years after the Norwegian colonisation. In 1783 the total fell to 47,287, and in 1786 to 38,142 (Preyer and Zirkel, p. 483). Since the beginning of the present century we have exact and minute computations:
Statistisk Tabel-Værk.
S. Qr.W. Qr.N. & B. Qrs.Total.
In A.D.1801,17,16013,97616,10446,240(47,207?)
”1806 (Preyer and Zirkel, whereas Mackenzie assigns it to 1804),46,349
”1808 (Preyer and Zirkel; and Mackenzie, p. 280),48,063
”1834, (Dillon, unofficial, evidently “round numbers”)53,000
”1835,20,29214,48021,26356,035
”1840,20,67714,66521,75257,094
”1842 (Meddel., ii. 70),53,000
”1845,21,36414,95622,23858,358
Skýrslur.
S. Qr.W. Qr.N. & E. Qrs.Total.
In A.D.1850,21,28815,11222,75759,157
”1855,22,81016,36225,43164,603
”1857 (Preyer and Zirkel),66,929
”1858 (Do.),67,847
”1860,23,13716,96026,89066,987
”1865 (Vice-Consul Crowe),68,000
”1870,25,06317,00127,69969,763
”1872 (estimated),70,000
while that of Madeira is 80,000.
The following table (Skýrslur um landshagi á Íslandi, v. 310, 1872) shows the increase of population during the present century down to 1870:
FromFeb. 1, 1801, to Feb. 2, 1835,increase18·71per cent.
”Feb. 2, 1835, to Nov. 2, 1840,”1·89”
”Nov. 2, 1840, to Nov. 2, 1845,”2·55”
”Nov. 2, 1845, to Feb. 1, 1850,”1·01”
”Feb. 1, 1850, to Oct. 1, 1855,”9·21”
”Oct. 1, 1855, to Oct. 1, 1860,”3·69”
”Oct. 1, 1860, to Oct. 1, 1870,”4·14”
The average rate of increase during the last century was very small: between A.D. 1703 and 1758 it was about one-fifth of 1 per cent. During the present age there has been, we observe, a tolerably regular progress with only three exceptions (A.D. 1835-40, A.D. 1845-50, and A.D. 1860-70). During this decade (1860-70) there has been a considerable failure, 4·14 per cent., or only 2·05 for each lustrum. In 1872, as will be seen, the number of males was 33,102; of females, 36,660. But throughout Iceland the fluctuations have ever been so great as to reduce the value of “general considerations.”
The following tables are compiled from the minute returns made to the Danish Government, and published in vols. i.-vi· of 1852-61, of the Meddelser fra det Statistishe Bureau, Copenhagen.
No. 1.—Table showing the Population of Iceland and its Distribution on the 1st February 1850, and on the 1st October 1855.
Districts. No. of Families. Population. Increase, in hundredths.
1850. 1855. 1850. 1855.
Southern Amt.
Reykjavik, 219 250 1149 1354 17·84
Gullbríngu and Kjósar Sýsla,{*} exclusive of Revkjavik, 783 853 4519 4853 7·39
The same, including Reykjavik, 1002 1103 5668 6207 9·51
Borgarfjarðar Sýsla, 329 355 2097 2312 10·25
Árnes Sýsla, 723 755 5018 5382 7·25
Rángárvalla Sýsla, 700 717 4766 4917 3·17
Austr and Vestr Skaptafells Sýsla,{*} 481 529 3340 3545 6·14
Vestmannaeyja{**} Sýsla, 91 98 399 447 12·03
Total (Southern Amt), 3326 3557 21,288 22,810 7·15
Western Amt.
Mýra and Hnappadals Sýsla,{*} 379 383 2410 2569 6·60
Snæfellsness Sýsla, 512 526 2684 2825 5·25
Dala Sýsla, 267 277 1923 2104 9·41
Barðastrandar Sýsla, 336 347 2518 2703 7·35
Isafjarðar{***} Sýsla, 508 545 4204 4589 9·16
Stranda Sýsla, 179 190 1373 1572 14·49
Total (Western Amt), 2181 2268 15,112 16,362 8·27
Northern And Eastern Amts.
Húnavatns Sýsla, 556 639 4117 4637 12·63
Skagafjarðar Sýsla, 626 622 4033 4258 5·58
Eyjafjarðar Sýsla, 625 638 3965 4289 8·17
Norðr and Suðr Thingeyjar Sýsla,{*} 640 684 4453 5108 14·71
Norðr-Múla Sýsla, 405 473 3201 3754 17·28
Suðr-Múla Sýsla, 391 416 2988 3385 13·29
Total (Northern and Eastern Amts), 3243 3472 22,757 25,431 11·75
Total for all Iceland, 8750 9297 59,157 64,603 9·21
{*} Separated on Ólsen’s map.
{**} Apparently combined with Rángárvalla Sýsla on Ólsens map.
{***} Sub-divided into north and west by P. and Z., p. 480; Mck., p. 281.
No. II.—Distribution of the Population of Iceland according to ages in 1855.
Ages. Per cent. Ages.Per cent.
Under 20 years, 42·315 Between 50 and 60 years, 9·303
Between 20 and 30 years, 19·485 Between 60 and 70 years, 5·413
Between 30 and 40 years, 11·886 Over 70 years, 2·463
Between 40 and 50 years, 9·135
No. III.—Table showing the Means of Support of the Population of Iceland on the 1st October 1855.
OCCUPATIONS. PROVIDING SUPPORT. SUPPORTED. TOTAL. Percentage of Population.
Wives & Families. Servants.
Males. Females. Total. Males. Females. Total. Males. Females. Total. Males. Females. Total.
Ecclesiastics and teachers,1967203399623102252761311401122124323653·66
Civil officials and employés,45247741051791051232282242304540·70
Persons who live on their means,848917040841241844621392173560·55
Men of science and letters,29—2920426220294969711400·22
Persons who live by agriculture,7063618768111,83519,35431,1896112749313,60525,01027,46552,47581·23
Persons who live by the sea,9808610661090192530154655099742535252050557·82
Mechanics,1992722613321935259731323913197101·10
Traders and inn-keepers,874911362313671171552723403907301·13
Persons who work by the day,17262234971682651311242822415230·81
Others who pursue no definite occupation,162123285671722392042622493375860·91
Receiving alms,4977101207——————49771012071·87
Prisoners,2—2——————2—20·00
Total, 9513 1728 11,241 13,891 22,923 36,814 7456 9092 16,548 30,860 33,743 64,603 100·00
Percentage of population,14·72·717·421·535·557·011·514·125·647·852·2100·0—
The following are the latest returns:
Table showing the Population of Iceland on the 1st October 1860 and 1870.
Districts. Number of Families. Population. Increase and Decrease per cent.
1860. 1870.
Southern Amt.
Reykjavik, 356 1444 2024
Gullbríngu and Kjósar Sýsla, 824 5001 5302 + 13·7
Borgarfjarðar Sýsla, 352 2251 2590 + 15·1
Árnes Sýsla, 772 5409 5891 + 8·9
Rángárvalla Sýsla, 689 5034 5201 + 3·3
Austr and Vestr Skaptafells Sýsla, 490 3499 3484 - 0·4
Vestmannaeyja Sýsla, 885 499 571 + 14·4
Total (Southern Amt), 3568 23,137 25,063 + 8·3
Western Amt.
Mýra and Hnappadals Sýsla, 373 2663 2765 + 3·9
Snæfellsness Sýsla, 471 2869 2799 - 2·4
Dala Sýsla, 285 2223 2190 - 1·5
Barðastrandar Sýsla, 311 2727 2699 - 1·0
Ísafjarðar Sýsla, 518 4860 4895 + 0·7
Stranda Sýsla, 192 1618 1653 + 2·2
Total (Western Amt), 2150 16,960 17,001 + 0·2
Northern and Eastern Amts.
Húnavatns Sýsla, 623 4722 4906 + 3·9
Skagafjarðar Sýsla, 614 4379 4574 + 4·5
Eyjafjarðar Sýsla, 707 4647 5108 + 9·9
Thingeyjar Sýsla, 715 5497 5746 + 4·5
Norðr-Múla Sýsla, 487 4183 3885 + 0·5
Suðr-Múla Sýsla, 442 3462 3480 - 7·1
Total (Northern and Eastern Amts), 3588 26,890 27,699 + 3·0
Total for all Iceland, 9306 66,987 69,763 + 4·1
The following is the official list of households for 1872:
In the Suðr-umdæmið (South Quarter) are 3568 households, with 11,835 men and 13,228 women.
” Vestr ” (West ” ) ” 2150 ” 7,981 ” ” 9,019 “
” Norðr og Austr ” 3588 ” 13,286 ” ” 14,413 “
Total, 9306 33,102 men and 36,660 women.
According to Mr Vice-Consul Crowe (Report), during the average of ten years (1855-65) there was annually—
1 marriage for every143persons.
1 birth for every25“
1 death for every39“
1 deaf and dumb for every 994“
1 blind320“
In 1855 there were 202 blind and 65 born surd-mutes. In 1870 the former numbered 225 (160 men and 65 women), and the latter 50 (20 + 30).
In table III. (1855), we see that of 64,603 souls, 52,475, about three-fourths of the heads of families and those who provide support, lived by farming, that is, by cattle-breeding, whilst more than four-fifths of the entire population thus derived their maintenance. At the same time, 5055 were fishermen, and only 703 were traders, showing a primitive state of society. Mr Consul Crowe (Report, 1870-71) remarks: “Somewhat more than the 75 per cent. of the total population were engaged in sheep rearing and agricultural pursuits; and, notwithstanding the steady and lucrative nature of the fisheries, only about 10 per cent. were engaged in them.” The mechanics may be further distributed as follows:
Bakers, (in 1855) 1 proportion per thousand 0·01 in 1870 numbered 2
Coopers, ” 35 ” 0·55 ” 17
Gold & Silver Smiths, ” 80” 1·24 ” 21
Blacksmiths, ” 80 ” 1·24 ” 31
Carpenters, ” 61 ” 0·94 ” 12
Masons, ” 6 ” 0·09 ” 2
Millers, ” 4 ” 0·07 ” 1
Turners, ” 8 ” 0·13 ” 1
Boatbuilders, ” 38 ” 0·59 ” 12
Tailors, ” 27 ” 0·41 ” 10
Joiners, ” 174 ” 2·69 ” 56
Saddlers, ” 46 ” 0·71 ” 15
Weavers, ” 20 ” 0·30 ” 4
Watchmakers, ” 0 ” 0·00 ” 1
Other industries, ” 103 ” 1·59 ” 24
The following is a table of ages in 1870:
MEN WOMEN.
Years. Married. Unmarried. Widowers. Separated. Married. Unmarried. Widows. Separated.
1 801 777
1-2 1530 1570
3-4 1814 1798
5-6 1828 1768
7-10 3073 3090
11-15 3713 3715
16-20 3 3693 39 3706
21-25 143 2374 2 350 2301 14 3
26-30 843 1601 16 7 1031 1691 55 9
31-35 1224 814 44 12 1384 1046 126 17
36-40 1869 650 96 17 1867 916 226 31
41-45 1377 307 107 18 1225 523 289 22
46-50 1125 171 131 29 1067 350 343 23
51-55 751 100 114 17 623 232 361 24
56-60 501 83 111 4 456 204 359 10
61-65 424 67 154 6 360 203 383 9
66-70 341 64 208 7 282 208 494 8
71-75 178 42 174 2 130 113 346 3
76-80 70 10 126 1 50 60 206
81-85 28 3 54 16 24 88 1
86-90 5 1 12 7 15
91-95 1 1 1 2 5
96-100 1 2 3
Above 100[165] none. none.
8882 22,740 1361 120 888 24,306 3313 160
| |
33,103 36,660
|
69,763
According to Mr Consul Crowe (Report, 1870-71), the proportion between births and deaths was:
Year. Births. Deaths. Computed Population. Percentage.
1861 2525 2391 66,973 + 0·20
1862 2693 2874 66,792 + 0·27
1863 2648 2115 67,325 + 0·80
1864 2760 2001 68,084 + 1·13
1865 2757 2100 68,741 + 0·96
1866 2662 3122 68,281 + 0·67
1867 2743 1770 69,254 + 1·42
1868 2449 1970 69,733 + 0·69
1869 2177 2404 69,506 + 0·33
1870 2276 1698 70,084 + 0·83
Total, 25,690 22,445
The tables of 1855 gave an excess of 2865 women. Mackenzie (1801) shows 21,476 males to 25,731 females, or 4255 out of a total of 47,207. In 1865 the proportion of men to women was 1000: 1093. In 1870 the conditions had improved, the surplus being only 3554 out of 69,763, a small percentage of waste labour.
It is easy to account for the preponderance of women, as well as their superior longevity, without entering into the knotty subject of what determines sex. They lead more regular lives, they have less hardship and fatigue, and they are rarely exposed to such accidents as being lost at sea or “in the mist.” According to Mr Vice-Consul Crowe, in 1865-66, of every forty-two deaths one was by drowning.
There is a tradition that Iceland during its palmiest days contained 100,000 souls, but it seems to rest upon no foundation. On the other hand, the old superstitious belief that some fatal epidemic invariably follows an increase beyond 60,000, has, during the last few years, shown itself to be equally groundless. It is probably one of the post hoc, ergo propter hoc confusions so popular amongst the vulgar; and, unhappily, not confined to the vulgar.
§ 2. General Considerations.
“The first inhabitants of the northern world, Dania, Nerigos, and Suæcia,” says Saxo Grammaticus, repeated by Arngrímr Jónsson, “were the posterity and remnant of the Canaanites quos fugavit Jesus latro—expulsed from Palestine about A.C. 1500 by Joshua and Caleb.” Duly appreciating the ethnological value of this tradition, we may remark that the occupation of Ultima Thule, which the ancients evidently held to be inhabited—tibi serviat must mean that there were men to serve—has not yet been proved. But Mongoloid or præ-Aryan colonies in ancient days seem to have overrun all the Old, if not the New World, and we must not despair of tracing them to Iceland.
The modern Icelander is a quasi-Norwegian, justly proud of the old home. His race is completely free from any taint of Skrælling, Innuit,[166] or Mongoloid blood, as some travellers have represented, and as the vulgar of Europe seem to believe. Here and there, but rarely, a dark flat face, oblique eyes, and long black horsehair, show that a wife has been taken from the land
“Where the short-legged Esquimaux Waddle in the ice and snow.”
In the southern parts of the island there is apparently a considerable Irish infusion; and we often remark the “potato face” and the peculiar eye, with grey-blue iris and dark lashes so common in outer Galway, and extending to far Tenerife.
It has been the fashion for travellers to talk of “our Scandinavian ancestors in Iceland,” to declare that the northern element is the “backbone of the English race,” and to find that Great Britain owes to the hyperborean “her pluck, her go-ahead, and her love of freedom.”
That a little of this strong liquor may have done abundant good to the puerile, futile Anglo-Kelt, and the flabby and phlegmatic Anglo-Saxon, there is no doubt, but happily we have not had a drop too much of northern blood. The islanders are by no means slow to claim descent from the old Jarls of Norway and Sweden, whilst some of the peasantry have asserted, and, it is said, have proved, consanguinity with the Guelphs: this would make them Germans, like the Royal Family of Denmark, who enjoy only poetical and laureated connection with the “Sea-Kings.” Those who reject these pretensions reply that every noble house emigrating from Scandinavia in the ninth and tenth centuries brought with it a train of serfs and thralls; for instance, Njál headed nearly thirty fighting men, serviles included, and Thráin led fifteen house-carls trained to arms. And genealogical statistics prove that while the Jarl’s blood dies out, the Carl’s increases and multiplies.
The Saga’s description of Gunnar Hamondsson is that of a well-favoured Icelander in the present day: “He was handsome of feature and fair-skinned; his nose was straight and a little turned up at the end (‘tip-tilted’); he was blue-eyed, and bright-eyed, and ruddy cheeked; his hair was thick and of good hue, and hanging down in comely curls.” And Skarphèdinn Njálsson may stand forth as the typical “plain” Thulite: “His hair was dark-brown, with crisp curly locks; he had good eyes; his features were sharp, and his face ashen pale; his nose turned up, and his front teeth stuck out, and his mouth was very ugly.”
The Icelander’s temperament is nervoso-lymphatic, and, at best, nervoso-sanguineous. The nervoso-bilious, so common in the south of Europe, is found but rarely; and the author never saw an instance of the pure nervous often met with in the United States and the Brazil. The shape of the cranium is distinctly brachycephalic, like the Teuton who can almost always be discovered by his flat occiput and his projecting ears. The face is rather round or square than oval; the forehead often rises high, and the malar bones stand out strongly, whilst the cheeks fall in. A very characteristic feature of the race whose hardness, not to say harshness, of body and mind still distinguishes it from its neighbours, is the eye, dure and cold as a pebble—the mesmerist would despair at the first sight. Even amongst the “gentler sex” a soft look is uncommonly rare, and the aspect ranges from a stoney stare to a sharp glance rendered fiercer by the habitual frown. Hence probably Uno Von Troil (p. 87) describes the women as generally ill-featured. The best specimens are clear grey or light blue, rarely brown and never black; and the iris is mostly surrounded by a ring of darker colour, the reverse of arcus senilis. Squints and prominent eyeballs, in fact what are vulgarly called “goggle eyes,” are common; and even commoner, perhaps, are the dull colourless organs which we term “cods’ eyes.” The “Irish eye,” blue with dark lashes, is still found in the southern part of the island, where, perhaps, thralls’ blood is most common. A mild and chronic conjunctivitis often results from exposure to sun-glare after dark rooms and from reading deep into the night with dim oil lamps. The nose is seldom aquiline; the noble and sympathetically advancing outlines of the Mediterranean shores will here be sought for in vain.[167] The best are the straight, the worst are offensive “pugs.” Only in two instances, both of them men of good blood, I saw the broad open brows, the Grecian noses, the perpendicular profiles, the oval cheeks, and the chins full, but not too full, which one connects in idea with the Scandinavian sea-king of the olden day. As a rule, then, the Icelandic face can by no means be called handsome.
The oral region is often coarse and unpleasant. Lean lips are not so numerous as the large, loose, fleshy, and bordés or slightly everted, whilst here and there a huge mouth seems to split the face from ear to ear. The redeeming feature is the denture. The teeth are short, regular, bright-coloured, and lasting, showing uncommon strength of constitution. They are rarely clean when coffee and tobacco are abused, and they are yet more rarely cleaned. Doubtless a comparatively scanty use of hot food tends to preserve them. The jowl is strong and square, and the chin is heavy, the weak “vanishing” form being very uncommon. The beard is sometimes worn, but more often clean shaved off; it seldom grows to any length, though the mustachios, based upon a large and solid upper lip, are bushy and form an important feature. Thick whiskers are sometimes seen, and so are “Newgate frills,” from which the small foxy features stand sharply out.
The other strong points are the skin and hair. The former is almost always rufous, rarely milanous, and the author never saw a specimen of the leucous (albino). The “positive blonde” is the rule; opposed to the negative or washed out blonde of Russia and Slavonia generally. The complexion of the younger sort is admirably fresh, pink and white; and some retain this charm till a late age. Its delicacy subjects it to sundry infirmities, especially to freckles, which appear in large brown blotches; exposure to weather also burns the surface, and converts rose and lily to an unseemly buff and brick-dust red. It is striated in early middle-age with deep wrinkles and it becomes much “drawn,” the effect of what children call “making faces” in the sunlight and snow-blink. In the less wholesome parts of the island the complexion of the peasantry is pallid and malarious.
Harfagr (Pulchricomus) is an epithet which may apply to both sexes. The hair, which belongs to the class Lissótriches, subdivision Euplokomoi, of Hæckel and Müller (Allg. Ethnographie, 1873), seldom shows the darker shades of brown; and in the very rare cases where it is black, there is generally a suspicion of Eskimo or Mongoloid blood. The colour ranges from carrotty-red to turnip-yellow, from barley-sugar to the blond-cendré so expensive in the civilised markets. We find all the gradations of Parisian art here natural; the “corn-golden,” the blonde fulvide, the incandescent (“carrotty”), the flavescent or sulphur-hued, the beurre frais, the fulvastre or lion’s mane, and the rubide or mahogany, Raphael’s favourite tint. The abominable Hallgerda’s hair is the type of Icelandic beauty; it was “soft as silk and so long that it came down to her waist.” Seldom straight and lank, the chevelure is usually wavy, curling at the ends, when short cut, as in England. The women have especially thick locks, which look well without other art but braiding, and many of the men have very bushy hair. As in the negro, baldness does not appear till a late age, and perhaps the Húfa (cap) by exposing the larger part of the surface acts as a preservative; old men and women, though anile beauty is very rare, are seen with grey and even white locks exceptionally thick. Canities comes on later than in Scotland and Sweden, yet scant attention is paid to the hair beyond washing at the brook. The body pile is as usual lighter coloured.
The figure is worse than the face, and it is rendered even more uncouth by the hideous swathing dress. The men are remarkable for “champagne-bottle (unduly sloping) shoulders,” “broad-shouldered in the backside,” as our sailors say. They are seldom paunchy, though some, when settled in warmer climates, develop the schöne corpulenz of the Whitechapel sugar-baker. They have the thick, unwieldy trunks of mountaineers, too long for the lower limbs—a peculiarity of hill-men generally, which extends even to the Bubes of Fernando Po. The legs are uncommonly sturdy; the knees are thick and rounded, an unpromising sign of blood; the ankles are coarse, and the flat feet are unusually large and ill-formed, like the hands, a point of resemblance with the Anglo-Saxon pure and simple. Hence they are peculiarly fitted for their only manly sport, besides skating and shooting, “Glímu list:” this wrestling has a “chic” of its own, though very different from the style of Cumberland and Cornwall. The gait, a racial distinction, is shambling and ungraceful, utterly unlike the strut of Southern Europe and the roll of the nearer East; the tread is ponderous, and the light fantastic toe is unknown. This “wabble” and waddle result from the rarity of walking-exercise compared with riding and boating, and from the universal use of the seal-skin slipper. The habit becomes a second nature: all strangers observe the national trick of rocking the body when sitting or standing to talk, and they mostly attribute it to the habit of weaving, when it is practised by thousands who never used a loom. The feminine figure is graceful and comparatively slender in youth, like the English girl of the “willowy type,” but the limbs are large and ungainly. After a few years the “overblown” forms broaden out coarsely. Women do not draw the plough, as in Greece and parts of Ireland, but they must take their turn at all manner of field-work. The Frauen-cultus, said to be a native of Europe north of the Alps, has not extended here, at least in these days.[168] Hence the legs and ankles, hands and feet, rival in size and coarseness those of the men. As wives, they would be efficient correctives to the “fine drawn” framework and the over-nervous diathesis of southern nations. Cold in temperament, they are therefore, like the Irish, prolific, which may also result from the general fish-diet. Dr Schleisner, who resided in Iceland under the Danish Government, has proved the temperature of the blood to be higher than amongst other races. Assuming the average of Europeans at C. 36°·5 (= F. 97°·7), nine persons out of twelve exceeded C. 37° (= F. 98°·6): the maximum was C. 37°·8 (= F. 100°); the minimum was C. 36°·5, and the average was C. 37°·27 (= F. 99°·09).[169]
Intermarriage is so general that almost all the chief families are cousins; yet among several thousands the author saw only one hunchback, two short legs, and a few hare-lips. It is almost needless to say that the common infanticide of pagan days is now unknown, and that we must seek some other cause for the absence of deformity. It may be found, perhaps, in the purity of unmixed blood, which, mentioning no other instances, allows consanguineous marriages to the Jews, the Bedawin Arabs, and even to the Trasteverino Romans;[170] whereas composite and heterogeneous races like the Englishman, the Spaniard, and especially the New Englander, cannot effect such unions without the worst results—idiocy and physical deformity.
As regards uncleanliness in house and body, it may be said that the Icelander holds a middle rank between the Scotchman and the Greenlander, and he contrasts badly with the Norwegian of modern days. Personal purity, the one physical virtue of old age, is, as a rule, sadly neglected. Concerning this unpleasant topic, the author is compelled to offer a few observations. The old islander could rival the seal: his descendant, like the man of Joe Miller, will not trust himself in water before he can swim. The traveller never sees man or woman in sea, river, or brook, though even the lower animals bathe in hot weather. It is a race abominantes aquam frigidam, and, even as pagans, their chief objection to Christianity was the necessity of baptism: they compounded for immersion in the Laug or hot spring,[171] and the latter is still, though very seldom, used. Washing is confined to the face and hands; and the tooth-brush is unknown like the nail-brush: the basins, where they exist, are about the size of punch-bowls. Purification by water, after Moslem fashion, is undreamed of. Children are allowed to contract hideous habits, which they preserve as adults; for instance, picking teeth, and not only teeth, with dinner-forks. Old travellers, who perhaps had not observed the cellarman in the wine vaults (London Docks) bore a hole and blow through it to start the liquor, record a peculiarly unpleasant contrivance for decanting the milk-pan into narrow-necked vessels; the same, in fact, adopted by the Mexican when bottling his “Maguey;” and “Blefkenius” alludes to a practice still popular amongst the Somal: it is only fair to own that the author never saw them. The rooms, and especially the sick rooms, are exceedingly stifling and impure. Those who venture upon an Icelandic bed may perhaps find clean sheets, but they had better not look under them. The houses, except in the towns, or the few belonging to foreign merchants, have no offices, and all that have, leave them in a horrible condition: there is no drainage, and the backyard is a mass of offal. Such is the effect of climate, which makes dirt the “poor man’s jacket” in the north; which places cleanliness next to godliness in the sub-tropical regions, and which renders personal uncleanliness sinful and abominable to the quasi-equatorial Hindú. Nor must we forget that the old English proverb “Washing takes the marrow out of a man,” still has significance amongst our peasantry.
§3. Character.
Appreciations of national character too often depend upon the casual circumstances which encounter and environ the traveller; and writers upon Iceland differ so greatly upon the matter, that perhaps the safest plan will be to quote the two extremes.
The unfriendly find the islanders serious to a fault; silent, gloomy, and atrabilious; ungenial and morose; stubborn and eternally suspicious; litigious and mordant; utterly deficient in adventure, doing nothing but what necessity compels; little given to hospitality; greedy of gain, and unscrupulous in the quocumque modo rem. “Gaiety,” says one, “seems banished from their hearts, and we should suppose that all are under the influence of that austere nature in the midst of which they were born.”
Henderson (i. 34), who represents the bright side of the picture, enlarges upon their calm and dignified, their orderly and law-abiding character; he denies their being of sullen and melancholy disposition; he was surprised at the degree of cheerfulness and vivacity prevailing among them, and that, too, not unfrequently under circumstances of considerable external depression. They are so honest that the doors are not locked at night in their largest town; strangely frank and unsophisticated; ardent patriots and lovers of constitutional liberty; fond of literature, pious, and contented; endowed with remarkable strength of intellect and acuteness; brimful of hospitality, and not given to any crimes, or indeed vices, except drunkenness.
And, upon the principle of allowing the Icelander to describe himself, we may quote as an exemplar of character the following model epitaph: “To the precious memory of A., S.’s son, who married the maiden C., D.’s daughter. He was calm in mind; firm in council; watchful, active, his friends’ friend; hospitable, bountiful, upright towards all, and the affectionate father of his house and children.”
The truth is, that although isolation has, as might be expected, preserved a marked racial character, the islandry are much like other Northmen. During the pagan times, and indeed until the sixteenth century, we read “their chief characteristics were treachery, thirst for blood, unbounded licentiousness, and inveterate detestation of order and rule;” but we shall hardly recognise the picture now. They are truthful, and they appear pre-eminently so to a traveller from the south of Europe, or from the Levant. They have a sense of responsibility, and you may believe their oaths: at the same time, they look upon all men as liars, and they are as desconfiados (distrustful) as Paulistas or Laplanders—a mental condition apparently connected with a certain phase of civilisation. Compared with the sharp-witted Southron, they are dull and heavy, stolid and hard of comprehension as our labouring classes, without the causes which affect the latter. They cleave like Hindús to the father-to-son principle, and they have little at home that tempts either to invention, to innovation, or to adventure. They are a “polypragmatic peasantry;” the love of lawsuits still distinguishes the Norman in France after ages of separation from the parent stock. Even in private debate they obstinately adhere to the letter, and shun the spirit: an Icelander worsted in argument takes up some verbal distinction or secondary point, and treats it as if it were of primary importance. An exaggeration of this peculiarity breeds the Querelle d’Allemand.
Another peculiarity of the islandry is a bitterly satirical turn of mind, a quality noted of old. We rarely meet with a “Thorkel Foulmouth,” but we see many a Skarphèdinn who delights and who takes pride in dealing those wounds of the tongue which according to the Arabs never heal. An ancient writer gives a fair measure of what could be done by Níðvísur[172] (lampoons), which never spared even the kings. They threatened Harold the Dane to write as many lampoons upon him as there were noses[173] in Iceland (Ólaf Tryggvason’s Saga, xxxvii.), and escaped by magic from an invasion. Nor did they spare even the gods; for instance, Hjalti sings (Burnt Nial’s Saga):
“I will not serve an idle log, For one, I care not which; But either Odin is a dog Or Freya is a——.”
The term “Tað-skegglingar,” Dung-beardlings, applied by a woman to certain youths whom she hated, caused a small civil war. When Dr Wormius was Rector Magnificus of the Copenhagen University, an Icelandic student complained of a libellous fellow-countryman. The poet, when summoned, confessed the authorship; contended that it contained no cause of offence, and, with characteristic plausibility and cunning, talked over the simple Vice-Chancellor. Thereupon the plaintiff in tears told the Rector that his fair fame was for ever lost, explaining at the same time the “fables, figures, and other malicious designs under which the malignity of the satire was couched;” and even the “spells and sorceries” which threatened his life. Thereupon Dr Wormius took high ground, and by citing certain severe laws against witchcraft, persuaded the poet to tear up his satire and never to write or to speak of it again. “The student was ravished with joy,” because he had made his peace with a pest who could exceed in power of annoyance Aristophanes, Horace, and Juvenal.
The courage, steadfastness, and pertinacity of the Icelander are proved by his annals, and if he does not show these qualities in the present day, it is because they are overlaid by circumstances. As regards the relations of the sexes, we find nothing in the number of illegitimate children which justifies the poet in singing of the “moral north.”[174] Iceland in fact must be reckoned amongst the
“Littora quæ fuerunt castis inimica puellis;”
and although she has improved upon the reckless licentiousness of the Saga days, ichthyophagy and idleness must do much to counterbalance the “sun-clad power of chastity.” The “unsophistication” of the race is certainly on the wane; there are doubtless
“Honest men from Iceland to Barbadoes,”
but the islander is pre-eminent for a “canniness” which equals, if it does not exceed, that of the Yankee, the lowland Scotch, and the Maltese. And what he gains he can keep with a most tenacious hold.
The statistics of crime in Iceland are peculiarly unsatisfactory. As the Journal will show, many a man goes free who would be prosecuted and severely punished farther south. Traveller after traveller has asserted, “it is in a large measure to their widespread home education that we must attribute the fine moral character of the Icelanders;” and capital has been made of the fact that the old stone-prison became the Government House. The Danish Parliamentary Reports (p. 255, vol. xlvii. for 1837-1838) contain details concerning the number of persons arraigned and convicted, sentenced, and acquitted by the tribunals. During a period of seven years (1827-1834), there were but 292 indictments on the island; of these 216 ended in conviction; 20 cases were suspended; 32 were dismissed, and 56 were acquitted. Of the 216 convictions, 79 were for “carnal offences;” 86 for larceny; 15 for transgressing sanitarial laws; 5 for murder, and 31 for various offences, such as false-witness and receiving stolen goods. The last statistics in 1868 give 46 criminal cases (37 males, 9 females) for the whole island, and in 37 conviction and sentence followed; 34 were for theft, 1 for forgery, 2 for adultery, besides 29 were fined for disturbance of the peace and for offences against public order. There were also 57 cases of adultery and seduction; 24 of these were fined, and in 33 cases the fine was remitted (Skýrslur um Landshagi, v. 193, 1871).
The suicide,[175] arson, and infant exposure of the republican and pagan ages are no longer heard of; vagrancy is hardly an offence; the state of the country prevents technical robbery; and forgery does not belong to its present state of civilisation. It is peculiar that almost all classes believe in and fear a tribe of outlaws or bandits who occupy the deserts of the interior—these are the days of Robin Hood come again.
§ 3. Society.
The social condition of Iceland has been compared with Lord Macaulay’s pictures of the Highlanders a hundred and fifty, and of the English three hundred years ago—the differences are more salient than the points of resemblance. The proverb “Heimskt er heimaðlia barn” (homely is the housebred child) produced a habit of voyaging and travelling; and wide wandering made the homes centres of refinement: the same practice in the Hebrides astonished Dr Johnson. Unhappily it is now no longer the popular habit; it has gone the way of the manly exercises, bowls, quoits, swimming, and practising weapons, which distinguished the heroic age. With much aristocratic feeling there is no aristocratic order properly so called; the earl, the baron, and the clan-chief are equally unknown; whilst the parson, like the priest in Slavonic countries, is the modern pattern to the Thane or Churl. As in the United States, there is no gentlemen class except the liberal professions, and even the clergy until the present generation were farmers and fishermen, labourers, mechanics, and so forth, often poorer and shabbier than the laity. The official circles are too small to form a beamten-kreis; the squirearchy is represented by the franklins or peasant lairds, who no longer correspond with the ancient Udallers; the merchants are chiefly foreigners.
Under these circumstances we can hardly expect much general refinement, nor the particular phase which produces men whose life consists in adorning society, and women born to wear diamonds and to be beautiful. Yet the Icelander, franklin or pauper, has none of the roughness and rudeness which we remark in the manners of the Canadians and of the lowland Scotch. “No tax is levied upon civility,” and their mutual regard for one another’s feelings, though sometimes carried to an inconvenient extent, is the essence of true politeness. The intercourse is rather ceremonious than “free and easy,” and travellers deride such quaint mixture as “You lie, my blessed (or beloved) friend!” The abuse of mutual regard is a servile fear of making enemies; they often tamely put up with injuries, as the Brazilian submits to be plundered by a richer neighbour, and the Syrian swallows his wrath rather than offend one who may some day become a Pasha.
The Icelander is a large-brained and strong-brained man, essentially slow and solid in point of intellect, and capable of high culture, of wide learning, and of deep research. This lesson is taught by the whole of his literature; although the muse no longer sings of love and war, she is by no means mute—her turn is now the theological, the philological, and the scientific. Arngrímr Jónsson well describes his countrymen as “Ad totius Europæ res historicas lyncæi.” But the islander never attains his full development except out of his own country, and this condition dates from past ages. Throughout the north, from England[176] and Val-land (France and Italy), to Mikligarðr (Constantinople),[177] he has distinguished himself and proved
“That every country is a brave man’s home.”
Abroad, his emulation is excited, his ambition is roused, and his slow sturdy nature is stirred up to unusual energy. At home he can command no serious education, nor can he escape from the indolent and phlegmatic, the dawdling and absolutely unconditioned slowness of the country, where time is a positive nuisance, to be killed as it best can. In Iceland the author met several Danes, but only two Icelanders, who spoke good English, French, or German; it is far otherwise in Europe, and especially, we need not say, in England.
As the notices of emigration will show, Iceland, like Ireland, is instinctively seeking her blessing and salvation, the “racial baptism.” One traveller records the “inexpressible attachment of the islanders for their native country.” Their Sehn sucht in a mountainless land, and the time-honoured boast, “Hið besta land solin skínr uppá” (Iceland is the best land upon which the sun shines).[178] So Bjarni Thorarensen sings, “World-old Iceland, beloved foster-land, thou wilt be dear to thy sons, as long as sea girds earth, men love women, and sun shines on hills.” But all the people of all the poorest countries console themselves in the same way, and geographical ignorance confirms an idea which to the traveller becomes simply ludicrous: moreover, northerners, it need hardly be said, gain more by removal, and therefore emigrate more readily than southerners. The latter express themselves unmistakably:
“Ἀνδρὶ γάρ τοι, κἄν ῦπερξάλλῃ κακοῖς Οὐν ἔστι θρεψαντος ἤδιον πέδον.”
And “Ulysses ad Ithacæ suæ saxa properat, quemadmodum Agamemnon ad Mycenarum nobiles muros; nemo enim patriam amat quia magna, sed quia sua” (Seneca), They are happy at home; why should they leave home?
The Icelander cannot be called degenerate. He is what he was. But whilst the world around, or rather beyond him, has progressed with giant strides, he has perforce remained stationary. His mother country forbids him to decuple the human hand and arm by machinery; the enormous water-power of his rivers is useless, and thinness of population bars out the appliances of civilisation—how can he expect to hold a fair place in the race of life? Moreover, like another small and heroic kingdom, modern Greece, Iceland has suffered from ages of virtually foreign dominion, not to say tyranny, and from restrictions of trade, which, small as items, combined to form a system of grinding oppression. His brightest days were those when, like the Goth and Hun, the Arab and the Tartar, he devoted himself to plundering the wealthy weak. But the times for these nomad incursions are past, until at least China can renew them; and he hopelessly sank when no longer able to harry the southern islands, to break down London bridge, to plunder and massacre Luna, and to spread
“Beneath Gibraltar to the Lybian sands.”
His future career is in his own hands, and improvement must be sought in extended stock-breeding, in better use of the fisheries, and in extensive emigration. With free institutions he will bring to the task the same high and steadfast spirit which distinguished him in his prime. Anthropologists justly object to the popular theory of a nation degenerating, unless, indeed, there be a mixture of foreign and inferior blood; but they see everywhere in history the decline and fall of races, whenever the stronger neighbouring peoples rise to the same or to a higher level of civilisation. The Roman and the Athenian still greatly resemble the conquerors of Europe and Asia, but in those days the Gauls and the Germans, the Scandinavians and the Britons, were mere barbarians, uneducated and undisciplined. Now all are on a level, and, as we saw in the late Franco-Prussian war, the physically strongest wins—the north beats, and will ever beat, the south.
The islanders, like their brother Scandinavians and the Teutons, had no idea of towns. We may apply to them the description of Tacitus (Germ., c. xvi.), “Nullas Germanorum populis urbes habitari satis notum est ... colunt discreti ac diversi, ut fons, ut campus, ut nemus placuit.” In Norway the first town, Níðar-ós, par excellence called Kaupang, was built by the two Olaves (Ó. Tryggvason or Trusty-son, and Ó. Helgi the Saint) in A.D. 994-1030; the real founder of cities was Olave the Quiet (1067-1093). Thus in old Norse codes the Town-law is an appendix to the Land-law. As late as 1752, Reykjavik was a single isolated farm.
It is strange how little the style of Iceland life has altered since the time (1767) when M. de Kerguelen wrote his short and lively sketch—it seems to be fixed like the language. As now, the island was divided into four provinces, of which each had eighteen to twenty counties, and every county fifteen to sixteen parishes. The Sýslur were under bailiffs, all subject to the grand bailiff (Governor), and to the sovereign council (Althing). The chief civil officer and the royal seneschal (treasurer), who collected the taxes, reported to a governor-general residing at Copenhagen—he is now represented by the minister for Iceland. There were two bishops, one for the south (Skálholt), and another for the north (Hólar); there is at present only one in the capital, but the people would willingly see, and will see, the older status restored.
The Iceland farm-house[179] was then, as now, a set of buildings scattered over the “tún,” or infield. The abode was entered by a passage (Bæjar-dyr) six feet wide, with a cross-raftered roof, and this “Skemma” was lighted by windowlets (Skjágluggi) of “Himna” (membrane), transparent parchment of cattle’s bladder; by Likna-belgur, ewe’s chorion; by Vats-belgur, sheep’s amnion; or by Skæna, inner membranes of the stomach, a little more opaque, or, rarely, by bulls’ eyes of glass. They were not the only tenements in the eighteenth century which had no light—
“Save one dull pane, that, coarsely patched, gives way To the rude tempest, yet excludes the day.”
Fronting the common entrance was the Baðstofa (public room, literally meaning bathroom), measuring fourteen ells by eight, in which the household worked at dressing wool and weaving cloth. It led to a bedroom, where the house master and mistress slept, the children and servants occupying the garrets and cock-lofts. On each side of the lobby were two rooms, the kitchen (Eld-hús, opposed to the stofa or gynæceum), and the store-room or Búr (our “bower,” and the Scottish “byre”); the dairy and the guest-chamber (Gestaskáli). At present the entrance is usually faced by the kitchen, and at right angles there is a covered gallery or tunnel, upon which the doors open: thus the rooms are not wholly dark, even when they lack glass, which is rare.[180] The outhouses (Úti-hús) were the stables, the stores (Geymslu-hús), the byres, the sheep pens (Fjár-hús), the forge, and, sometimes, the carpenter’s shop. The house (Bæjar-hás or Heima-hús) was built of planks, which, coming from Copenhagen, were too expensive to be used as flooring. The only fire was in a stove; the fuel was of turf and cow-“chips,” and the interior was never dry—the unrheumatic traveller will not find that damp of which the many complained. The furniture consisted of a table and chests acting chairs; Niels Horrebow, the Dane who saw everything en beau, added wainscots, glasses, and a variety of luxuries. Johann Anderson, afterwards burgomaster of Hamburg, by no means wore the rose-coloured spectacles.
“The people appeared mild, good-natured, and humane, but distrustful and addicted to drink. They were very fond of chess, and good coasting sailors, but not very courageous”—no wonder, considering their craft! They soon became infirm; they were old at fifty, and they rarely reached eighty. “Landsarsak” (Landfarsótt[181]) was the name given to all fatal illnesses usually arising from scurvy, wet feet, and want of exercise. Their hay was not housed, but heaped in stacks two yards square, upon raised mounds, at short distances, and covered with sloping turf to lead the rain into surrounding ditches. In summer food was of cods’-heads, boiled like all other provisions: in winter the peasants ate sheeps’-heads kept in (fermented) vinegar of sour milk (Sýra), or in juice of sorrel (Súra),[182] and other plants, the mutton being sold. Bread was not the staff of life, being eaten only on high days and holidays, that is, at births, marriages, and deaths: the richer sort baked cakes, broad and thin, like sea biscuits, of black rye flour from Copenhagen.
The men dressed like sailors in breeches, jackets acting coats, and vests of good broadcloth, with four to six rows of buttons, always metal, copper or silver. The fishermen wore overalls, coarse smooth waistcoats, large paletots of sheepskin or leather, made water-proof by grease or fish-liver oil; leather overalls, stockings, and native shoes. The women were clad in jackets and gowns, petticoats and aprons of woollen frieze, over which was thrown a “Hempa,” or wide black robe, like a Jesuit frock, trimmed with velvet binding. The wealthy added silver ornaments down the length of the dress, and braided the other articles with silk ribbons, galloon, or velvets of various colours. The ruff was a stiff collar from three to four inches broad, of very fine stuff, embroidered with gold or silver. The head-dress was a cone like a fool’s-cap or sugar-loaf, two to three feet tall, kept in place by a coarse cloth, and covered with a finer kerchief. The soleless shoes of ox-hide or sheep-skin, made by the women out of a single piece, were strapped to the instep.
The wives were not so strong as the husbands, yet they had the hardest work in haymaking. Their labour was difficult, and they “kept their beds for a week.” At baptism a bit of linen dipped in milk was placed in the babe’s mouth, and the child was breeched at the end of two years.
§ 4. The Family.
Population was checked by not allowing marriage to a man who did not own a hundred of land or a six-oared boat in trim: this wholesome law, however, is becoming obsolete as the ferocious old code which prevented the propagation of paupers. The number of births is about 2940 to 2020 deaths per annum: thus the annual increase is 920, but the mortality of children is, or perhaps we should say was, disproportionate. In 1858, 489 upon the island died between the ages of 1 to 5, and 68 between 5 to 10—a total of 557. During the same year the number of illegitimate to legitimate births was 15:100: this figure appears pretty constant, but rather on the increase than the reverse. In the early nineteenth century, Hooker gives 383 illegitimates in 2516 births = 15⅕ per cent. = nearly to 1:7—a high average, which he explains by the huddling together of families. Mr Vice-Consul Crowe (1866) gives 1:6·9 of births. Statistics of the years between 1860 and 1870 give 20:100, or 1:5. The Consular Report of 1870-71 asserts that “in every 100 births there were 17 of illegitimate children,” and shows the following figures: 1866, 17·7; 1867, 16·7; 1868, 17·2; 1869, 16·2; 1870, 16·8.
Of 2937 children, only 48 were born (1858) of mothers under 20; 23 were legitimate, and 25 were not: 458 had mothers aged 20 to 25: 933, of whom 764 were born in wedlock and 169 were not, had mothers aged 25 to 30: the mothers of 703 new-born children were 30 to 35 years old; those of 549, from 35 to 40; those of 221 from 40 to 45; and, lastly, those of 25, from 45 to 50.
In the same year, 3 men committed suicide; 65 were drowned; 17 perished by accidents, and 1939 died of disease. The smallest number of deaths (128) occurred in February, the coldest month; and the greatest number (205) in July, the warmest.
There is little of novelty in the religious ceremonies accompanying baptisms, marriages, and funerals, which are those of the Augsburg rite; but there is something to say upon the subject of names. Until the middle of the last century, the surnames, as in olden Kent, were all patronymics or matronymics; such was the ancient fashion of Europe, especially of England and Germany, a custom still preserved by the great Slav race (vich or ich), and by the modern Greeks, who prefer-poulo and who almost ignore the ancient-ides. It is notorious how Linne (Linnæus), the prince of naturalists, was prompted by the growing use of family names to devise the generic and specific distinctions, which superseded a system cumbrous and intricate as that of a Chinese dictionary. In very thinly populated countries, where every man knew his neighbour, it was possible to be called Jón Jónsson[183] and Caroline Jónsdóttir, but so rude a plan would not serve elsewhere. We still find it in the country parts of Iceland, and, curious to say, the people are returning to the old fashion of taking the paternal name as surname. The matronymic, e.g., Sveinn Ástriðarson, in early times was assumed when the mother outlived the father: it was never a mark of base blood; as amongst the Spaniards, where El Hijo de ruin padre, Toma el apelido de la madre.
In 1855, a curious official paper was published under the title “Um Mannaheiti á Íslandi.” It shows that the island has only 63 native surnames, and 530 men’s and 529 women’s Christian names: no wonder that “nicknames” are common as amongst Moslems and Brazilians. Hence local cognomens are also much used, as Peter of Engey, and Jón of the “Strönd,” i.e., the coast from Hafnafjörð to Keblavik. The popular address would be Herra Bonde (Mr Farmer), Herra Hreppstjóri (Mr Constable), or “Good day, comrade!” sounding very republican, and accompanied by a resounding kiss.
Every fifth man appears to affect, in one of five forms, the fourth Evangelist. Jón (Johns, 4827), Jóhannes (498), Jóhann (494), Hannes (154), and Hans (80), making a total of 5053. On the other hand, whilst Odin has disappeared, Thór, in compounded shape, enters into 2010 male and 1875 female “Christian” names = 3885. Guðrún[184] numbers 4363; Marguerite, 1654; yet Marias, elsewhere so common,[185] are only 384; and Rosas decline to 269. Amongst historical names, we find 122 Sæmundr; of Biblical names, even the quaintest and the most Hebraical, such as Samson, Samuel, and Solomon, Jael, and Judith, are here common as in all Protestant countries: Catholics more wisely avoid them, leaving them to their original Jewish owners. The western counties affect the strangest terms, such as Petra, Petrea, Petrina, Petulína, and Tobía, a feminine. And throughout the island there is arising a new fashion of combining names almost as ingenious as that of the Latter-Day Saints. For instance, the daughter of Brynjólfur by Thórdís will be called Bryndís; the son of Sæmundr by Elina is named Elínmundr. Of course nothing can be more barbarous, but what does “fashion” care for barbarism?
In pagan times the wife was often assisted by Friðlas or supernumeraries, and, though she was liable to be exchanged or loaned, as was the case amongst the polished Hindús, the Greeks, and the Romans, she could put away her baron for so slight an offence as wearing a chemisette, or any other article of feminine attire. The simple process was to declare before witnesses that they twain ceased to be one flesh. The marriage tie sat almost as lightly upon Icelanders as upon Scandinavians generally, even in the Catholic days: since the introduction of Lutheranism, it has, as we might expect, been still less binding.[186] We may therefore conclude that a certain love of change is in such matters a characteristic of the race. At present every peine infamante allows divorce; and incompatibility of temper, shown by three years of separation, with the consent of the mayor, is a plea of sufficient force to claim from the Minister of Justice at Copenhagen freedom a mensâ et thoro. Both parties are able to remarry, and they may be reunited, unless they have misconducted themselves whilst living apart; in this case they must obtain a dispensation from the chancellerie of the empire.
§ 5. Diseases.
It is calculated that the yearly deaths at Reykjavik average 59-60, and this figure, if correct, is high for the population, in 1870 only 2024, now at most 2500. For instance, the mean of London being 19 per 1000, and all England 20·8, to say nothing of Glastonbury, Reykjavik, with the most favourable calculations, would be 24.[187] With more attention to hygiene, the headquarter village should not show a death-rate exceeding 17:1000—the beau-ideal of the modern sanitarian.
The list of diseases is so extensive that little beyond the names can be mentioned. They result mainly from the utter absence of hygiene; from want of cleanliness; from bad living, hardship, and fatigue; and from exposure to cold, especially after living in close and heated rooms. The latter is a fertile source of ill-health: so at St Petersburgh the higher classes suffer from the maladies of Calcutta, hepatalgia, jaundice, and spleen-enlargments; and, after a certain number of “seasons,” they must seek health in the Crimea, or in Southern Europe. Hence the fondness of Icelanders for sour food which equals that of the acid-loving citizens of Damascus. The pudding of the island is Skyr, which the Dictionary wrongly translates “curdled milk, curds,” and which Rafn derives from the Sanskrit Kshira (milk): it is the Khir of Sind and Belochistan; the Laban of Arabia; the Dahin of Hindostan; the Saure-milch of South Germany; the Kisalina of Styria and Slavland, and the Hattelkit or Corstorphine Cream of Scotland.[188] Icelanders eat it with sugar, which gives it a sickly taste. Hence the use of acid butter; of Mysuost, or whey cheese, brown, and not unlike guava cheese; of Valle, fermented whey, somewhat like Koumiss; of Sýra, or sour whey, acting small beer, and used in pickles like vinegar; of Súr mjólk, or sour milk; and of Blanda, the favourite drink, half whey and half water, into which blueberries, and black, crake, or crow berries (Icel. Krækjuber, Empetrum baccis nigris) are sometimes infused. And hence, finally, the use of Korn-súra (Polygonum viviparum), Cochlearia (officinalis and Danica), trefoil (T. repens), Sedum Acre (house leek), and other social plants, which are considered antiseptic and antibilious.
The skin diseases are alopecia, herpes, and psora inveterate as on the Congo River. “St Anthony’s fire” was cured by binding live earth-worms upon the part afflicted. Scurvy (Skyrbjúgr) results from “thinness of blood,” induced by want of proper nourishment, especially by the overuse of salt and dried meat and fish: the increased growth of vegetables, not to speak of medicines, has much modified its malignancy. Measles and scarlatina are rare, but periodical attacks of smallpox, which often appear in history,[189] still compel the capital to convert one of the best houses into an hospital. In 1872, it was occupied by French fishermen only; there was no case among the natives. The author did not see a single instance of the protean and the most cosmopolitan of diseases, whose various phases are known as Lepra Arabum, Leuce, and Mal Rouge; Leontasis, or Facies leonina; Elephantias, Elephantiasis, and Barbadoes Leg. It is known to old writers as “Icelandic scurvy,” to the islanders as Lík-thrá-sótt, or corpse-pang, which Henderson translates, a rotten, rancid corpse;[190] Holdsveiki, or flesh-weakness, and Spitalska (’Spital sickness), the latter being the biblical term. When the extremities drop off, the term generally applied was Limafallsíki.
In the ninth century, leprosy required some 19,000 hospitals in Europe; and it has perhaps lingered longest in the Færoes and in Iceland. Here, curious to observe, its very headquarters were about Skagi and Reykjanes, the best and mildest climates. A few cases still remain, but the establishments built in Catholic days have not been kept up by the Reformation, perhaps showing the want to be less urgent. The horrid malady is evidently dying a natural death, like others which have yielded their places to new comers, or which are gradually disappearing, without leaving issue. The best authorities explain the change by the use of bromide of potassium and the increase of vegetable diet. And to the question of Aretæus, “Sed quænam medela excogitari poterit, quæ Elephantem, tam ingens malum, expugnari digna est?” Iceland answers, fearless of Cobbett, the potato. The latter has taken the place of the old-fashioned simples, the tops and berries of juniper (J. communis), of Dryas octopelata, of Vaccinium myrtillus (bilberries), of Sanguisorbs, and of similar sub-acid tonics.
It is impossible to enter into a subject which has filled many a volume, but it may briefly be stated that no cosmical cause of leprosy has ever been discovered; and that what seems to account for its origin in one place, completely fails in another. India, especially Malabar, attributes it to biliary derangements, caused by fish and milk diet. The Brazil, like the Jews, the Moslems, and other pig-haters, refers it to pork; Syria and Palestine, ignoring the “impure,” declare it to result from atavism and inheritance. Iceland remarks that it was worst when men wore woollen garments; and similarly Sir George Staunton assigns the modern exemption of Europe to the general use of linen.
Peirce declares that syphilis (introduced, according to Uno Von Troil, about A.D. 1753), chlorosis, mania à potu, caries of the teeth and intermittent fevers are unknown, or almost unknown. He is certainly incorrect with respect to the latter complaint; typhus and various febrile affections are very common in the finest and warmest months, when many of the peasantry show signs of “malaria.” Pleurisy is popularly supposed to be infectious. Rachitis, called in Norway the “English sickness,” because it is supposed to have passed over in late years from Britain to France, Holland, and Germany; scrofula and consumption are rare. Chiragra is attributed by old writers to “handling wet fishing tackle in cold weather.”[191] The trismus infantium seu neonatorum, called “ginklofi” when opisthenous, and “klums” if emprosthonous, has raged like a plague, especially at Heimaey, one of the Vestmannaeyjar. The children, contrary to the practice of all wild peoples, were weaned after the first week, and were fed upon the flesh of the foul mollie, or fulmar-petrel: the same was once the case at St Kilda, with similar results. At Heimaey, 64 per cent. of babes have died between the fifth and the twelfth days after birth: since a medical man was stationed there, the tetanus has been arrested; and of 20 births, only a small proportion has been lost.
The other complaints are catarrhs, influenzas (where the stars have little “influence”), and chronic rheumatisms, the latter an especial plague; hysteria, gout, and arthrites, constipation and diarrhœas, very prevalent during spring. The endemic echinococcus and cysticercus, affecting one-seventh of the population, are subjects of remarkable interest, which have been treated at considerable length. No less than seven species of hydatids have been detected in dogs. An able analysis of writings upon these internal cysts, causing “liver-complaints” and “staggers,” will be found in Schmidt’s Jahrbücher der in-und Ausländischen Gesammten Medecin (No. V., Band 134 of 1867, and No. X., Band 152 of 1871). The principal northern authorities quoted are Hjaltalín, Jón Finsen, Krabbe, Thorarensen, and Skaptason.