A school-essay from the nineteenth century

Dear reader,

The year is 1870 and a young man is sitting in an examination. He has been given a question, or perhaps a number of questions of which he has to select one, which he is to answer with the tact and tastefulness that befits a learned individual, to imitate the old masters which he has now studied (and studied under) for years, and to do them honor with a fineness of expression. (Or so I imagine, at least.)

This essay is shared with you to (further?) demonstrate a difference between modern schooling and that of the nineteenth century, in which days there appears to have been more weight on moral instruction, which is something I would have liked over classes in accounting.

The essay, first in my (ever-poor) translation, and then in Icelandic:

What are man's greatest hindrances from becoming good? (1870)

The greatest obstacles to that a man becomes good, are firstly the natural corruption, which is created with him ("ἤ [ἠ διαφθορά] τῷ [ἀνθρώπῳ] συγγενής ἐστι"?), secondly the corruption of that age, in which he lives, thirdly his own carelessness while the corruption roots itself in his heart, and finally and fourthly his lack of strength enough to become loose, when he finally sees the corruption and notices how harmful it is.

About his natural corruption there is nothing that man can do, nor about the corruption of his age, but about his carelessness and his lack of strength he should be able to do something in most future circumstances, but it is so with most men that they, while in their youth, suppose that they may first, at least until the years of adulthood arrive, enjoy life according to that which the lusts offer in that or that occasion, and observe not that, when alongside to corruption, the strength to break free of its [i.e. the corruption's] bonds dries up,

[This is a reference to Old Norse mythology; the Fenris wolf was fastened (the second time) with a drómi, although a drómundi, which is the word used in the text, is in fact a large warship of Greek origin, a confusion to be admired in posterity!]

then they should let the corruption of the age be a lesson to them, which reveals so thoroughly how slippery it becomes for most on this self-confidence of theirs, and [they should] observe and attend carefully, whether they would be men of strength, [such as] that they can quit as it will get nearer, and if they see that they shall not be able to do that, and such shall it be for most, [then they should] cease then immediately and risk not by their carelessness their fortune both in this life and that of the other world.

---

Hverjar eru þær helztu hindranir fyrir manninn til að verða góður? (1870)

Hinar helztu tálmanir fyrir því, að maðurinn verði góður, eru í fyrsta lagi eðlisspilling sú, er honum er meðsköpuð, í öðru lagi spilling aldar þeirrar, er hann lifir á, í þriðja lagi athugaleysi sjálfs hans meðan spillingin festir rætur sínar í hjarta hans, og loks í fjórða lagi þrekleysi hans að losa sig, er hann á endanum sjer spillinguna og athugar hversu skaðsamleg hún er. Eðlisspilling sinni getur maðurinn eigi við gjört og eigi heldur spilling aldar sinnar, en athugaleysi sínu og þrekleysi ætti hann að geta við gjört í allflestu, er að höndum ber, en nú með því allflestum mönnum er svo varið, að þeir, meðan þeir eru á æskuskeiði ætla, að þeir megi fyrst, að minnsta kosti þangað til fullorðinsárin koma, njóta lífsins eptir því sem girndirnar bjóða í þann og þann svipinn og athuga eigi, að jafnfram spillingunni þverrar þrekið til að drepa sig úr drómunda hennar, þá ættu þeir að láta sjer aldaspillinguna að kenningu verða, er sýnir svo berlega hversu allflestum verður hált á þessu sjálfstrausti sínu, og athuga og gæta vandlega að, hvort þeir muni vera þeir þrekmenn, að þeir geti hætt nær sem vera skal, og ef þeir sjá, að þeir eigi muni geta það, en svo munu allflestir, að hætta þá þegar í stað og hætta eigi farsæld sinni bæði hjer í lífi og annars heims af athugaleysi einu.

By Þorvarður Kjerulf, 1848-1893. Later a doctor, and later yet a parliamentarian. Persons went to school at different ages in those days, and this essay is written after (I think) six years of formal education, and on the sixth year, in fact, which is the last.

The reader should note that this is a text from the latter part of the nineteenth century, during which the Icelandic language reached (in my opinion) unprecedented excellence, and whence there has been a great decline. In this text there are more than a few passages or words, whose ambiguity I am not qualified to settle. Unfortunately for the reader, it is highly unlikely that another translation exists, or shall ever exist. It is after all rather unremarkable, except for its reflection of the educational mores of the time.


Now, the school that these boys attend was the only such school at the time in the whole of Iceland, if I recall correctly, graduating around fifteen to twenty boys (and several girls) every year. The standard of education was furthermore poor by Danish standards, but Iceland was at the time a remote province of Denmark with nothing but dirt-poor farmers. "Proper" Icelanders, except for those who were profiting on the rest, generally resided in Denmark, though around this time the situation was improving alongside popular nationalism. The title of the book in which I found these essays is (well-) named Landsins útvöldu synir, or the Land's Chosen Sons, but such (or any) education was at the time not available but for a few.

Today a similar education is available for the many, but unfortunately I myself lacked the good sense to seek it. Should I have enrolled in the modern descendant of that school, I could by now know good Latin, Greek, and possibly even some Hebrew. Now, on a university level, I seek that same education, in other words I seek to educate myself in the way that the system failed to educate me.

P.S. The short passage in Greek exists as I found it easier to move the sentence into Greek than into English, and I readily imagine that he might have been inspired by a Greek sentence in his construction of this one.

Sæmundar þáttr

This little episode is quite delightful. Firstly, it reads as a sort of a legend, secondly, it adds to the hagiography of saint Jón, thirdly, the most important bit in my opinion, it has a moral function: Sæmundur has been studying abroad for so long that he has forgotten even his name!

In any case, here is the story, Sæmundar þáttr, in a hurried and poor translation, first in English and then Icelandic, arbitrarily divided into six chapters. Comments or questions relating to the translation are welcome as ever, if you happen to have such interests, dear reader. Also, apologies for the sometimes-confusing word order. Enjoy:

1.
While the holy bishop Jón was on [the] southern roads [i.e. to Rome], as was mentioned before, he managed to track down and take with him Sæmundr the learned in the manner which here is told.
It does not befit to do otherwise, than to mention further than already is said, of how great assistance holy Jón was to Icelandic men abroad as well as inland. We count that act particularly, where he persuaded/lured with him out here Sæmundr Sigfússon, that man who has been one of the greatest utility for God’s Christianity in Iceland, and had been abroad for a long time without being heard from. But holy Jón managed to inquire about him that he was with a certain excellent master, studying there unknown/mysterious/unusual lore, so that he lost [as a result] all that which he had learnt in childhood, and even his baptismal name.

---

Þá er inn heilagi Jón byskup var á suðrvegum, sem fyrr segir, gat hann upp spurt ok með sér haft Sæmund inn fróða á þann hátt sem hér segir.
Eigi hœfir annat en at geta framarr en áðr er sagt hversu mikit lið íslenzkum mǫnnum varð at inum heilaga Jóni jafn vel útan lands sem innan. Teljum vér þann hlut einkanliga þar til er hann spanði út higat með sér Sæmund Sifússon, þann mann er verit hefir einnhverr mestr Guðs kristni til nytsemðar á Íslandi, ok hafði lengi verit í útlǫndum svá at ekki spurðisk til hans. En inn heilagi Jón gat hann upp spurðan at hann var með nǫkkrum ágætum meistara, nemandi þar ókunniga frœði, svá at hann týndi allri þeiri er hann hafði á œskualdri numit ok jafnvel skírnarnafni sínu.


2.

But when St. Jón came where he was staying, they asked each for the others name. St. Jón said his name, but Sæmundur named himself Kollr. Jón respondss with the gift of the holy spirit and a great power of recognition [or wisdom of Christian learning]: “I conjecture that your name is Sæmundr and that you are Sigfús’ son and born in Iceland in that estate that is named in Oddi.” The holy Jón affected him with his speech so that he recognized himself and his ancestry.
Sæmundr spoke: “It may be that your story is true. And if that is the case, then there will be found in the field in Oddi a certain hill, the one by which I constantly played.” And after this they recognized one another entirely.
Then spoke Jón the holy: “Do you not desire to depart hence?”
Sæmundr responds: “I find it good with my master, although since I heard your words and I saw you, it seems that he has it better who follows you and never separates from you. But I can not see a way so that I might follow you, for my master wants in no way to let me go free.

---

En er inn heilagi Jón kom þar er hann var fyrir, spurði hvárr annan at nafni. Inn heilagi Jón sagði sitt nafn, en Sæmundr nefndisk Kollr. Jón svarar af gipt heilags anda ok mikilli kennispeki: “Ek get at þú heitir Sæmundr ok sér Sigfúss son ok fœddur á Íslandi á þeim bœ er í Odda heitir.” Talði inn heilagi Jón þar til fyrir honum at hann kannaðisk við sik ok ætt sína. Sæmundr mælti: “Vera má at sǫnn sé saga þín. Ok ef svá er, þá mun finnask í túninu í Odda hóll nǫkkurr, sá er ek lék mér jafnan við.” Ok eptir þetta þá kannask þeir við með ǫllu.
Þá mælti inn heilagi Jón: “Fýsir þik ekki í brot heðan?”
Sæmundr svarar: “Gott þykkir mér hjá meistara mínum, en þó síðan ek heyrða þín orð ok ek sá þik virðisk mér þó svá sem sá hafi betr er þér fylgir ok aldri við þik skilsk. En eigi sé ek þó ráð til þess at ek mega þér fylgja, því at meistari minn vill með engu móti gefa mik liðugan.”


3.
Jón the holy spoke: “We shall both sit over it, and I will stay here for a while. We shall make use of every moment when we may speak to one another, no less nights than days. Now if your master loves you much, then he will look for us if we are alone together, and he will then become accustomed to it and not find it suspicious if it happens often. But if he ceases to come to find us, then we shall try to leave as quickly as possible.
Sæmundr spoke: “It is a wise plan that you have suggested. Shall this be the foundation of our design, but we contend with a wise man where my master is, for he sees our journey when he looks to the heavenly bodies when the weather is clear, for he knows so precisely astronomiam, - that is the art/skill of stars - that he recognizes every man’s star whom he sees and looks at for a time [i.e. once].

---

Inn heilagi Jón mælti: “Vit skulum báðir þar at sitja, ok mun ek dveljask hér um hríð. Skulum vit til nýta hverja stund er vit megum við talask, eigi síðr nætr en daga. Nú ef meistari þinn ann þér mikit, þá mun hann leita okkar ef vit erum einir saman, ok mun hann þá venjask við ok þykkja ekki grunsamligt ef þat kemr opt at. En ef hann léttir af at leita okkar, þá skulum vit leita á brott sem skjótast.”
Sæmundr mælti: “Viturligt ráð er þetta er þú hefir til lagt. Skal þetta grundvǫllr okkarrar ráðagerðar, en við vitran mann eigum vit þar sem meistari minn er, því at hann sér ferð okkra þegar hann hyggr at himintunglum í heiðríku veðri, því hann kann svá algerla astronomiam - þat er stjǫrnuíþrótt - at hann kennir hvers manns stjǫrnu þess er hann sér ok hyggr at um sinn.”


4.

Now after this strategizing Sæmundr leads Jón to meet his master. He received him quite well. Jón stays there for a while until they try to leave one night. The weather was thick, and they go all that night and the day after. But when the master feels their loss, they were searched for and they were not found. But on the second night all heavenly bodies were visible. The master sees immediately where they travel and goes after them hurriedly.
Sæmundr looked up into the sky and spoke: “My master is now moving and sees where we go.”
Jón spoke: “What action shall we resolve to now?” [Or what plan/advice is there now available. Or something like that.]
Sæmundr responds: “Quickly shall we adopt a plan. Take a shoe off my foot and fill it with water and put it into/in/on my head.” So does he.
Now is to say of the sage that he looked up into the sky and spoke: “Ill tidings, for Jón the foreign has drowned Koll my foster-son, for water is around his star.” And he goes home again; but they go their way that night and the day after.

---

Nú eptir þessa ráðagerð fylgir Sæmundr Jóni á fund meistara síns. Tók hann við honum allvel. Er Jón þar um hríð þar til er þeir leita á brot á einni nátt. Var veðr þykkt, ok fara þá nótt alla ok daginn eptir. En er meistarinn saknar þeira, þá var þeira leitat ok fundusk þeir eigi. En á annarri nátt þá sá ǫll himintungl. Sér meistarinn þegar hvar þeir fara ok ferr eptir þeim skyndiliga.
Sæmundr leit í loptit upp ok mælti: “Á ferð er meistari minn kominn ok sér hvar vit fǫrum.”
Jón mælti: “Hvat er nú til ráða?”
Sæmundr svarar: “Skjótt skal til ráða taka. Tak skó af fœti mér ok fyll af vatni ok set í hǫfuð mér.” Svá gerir hann.
Nú er at segja frá spekinginum at hann sá í himininn upp ok mælti: “Ill tíðendi, því at Jón inn útlenzki hefir drekkt Koll fóstra mínum, því at vatn er um stjǫrnu hans.” Ok ferr heim aptr; en þeir Jón fara leið sína þá nótt ok daginn eptir.


5.
Now is to be said of the sage again that on the following night he interprets the heavenly bodies and sees the star of Sæmundr going over with him living and goes after him and Jón.
Sæmundr spoke: “Again the master of stars is moving, and again will a plan be required. Take again a shoe of my foot and a knife from the sheath and strike my calves and fill the shoe with blood and set into/in/on/around my head. [i.e. on the crown of the head.]” Jón does so.
Then could the master still see the star of Sæmundr and spoke: “Blood is now around the star of master Kollr, and it is now certain that this foreigner has destroyed him.” And therefore he disappears back his on path, but Sæmundur and Jón the holy go forward their own way.

---

Nú er enn at segja frá spekinginum at á næstu nátt eptir skipar hann himintunglum ok sér stjǫrnu Sæmundar fara yfir með honum lifanda ok ferr eptir þeim Jóni.
Sæmundr mælti: “Enn er stjǫrnumeistarinn á ferð kominn, ok mun enn ráða við þurfa. Tak enn skó af fœti mér ok kníf ór skeiðum ok hǫgg á kálfa mér ok fyll skóinn af blóði ok set í hvirfil mér.” Jón gerir svá.
Þá gat meistarinn enn sét stjǫrnu Sæmundar ok mælti: “Blóð er nú um stjǫrnu meistarans Kolls, ok er nú víst at þessi útlendingr hefir fyrirfarit honum.” Ok því hverfr hann aptr leið sína, en þeir Sæmundr ok inn heilagi Jón fara sinn veg framleiðis.


6.

It is yet to be said that when this learned master arrived home he tried his art anew and saw again the star of Sæmundr and spoke: “Alive is still Kollr my apprentice, which is better, but much enough I have taught him, for he defeats me now in the art of stars and his trickery. And go they now whole and well, for I can not oppose their departure. And greatness will be this Jón’s lot, and longlasting benefit will men have in his good fortune [or guardian spirit].” But they went now their way, and they got on well and readily.

---

Þat er enn at segja at þá er þessi inn fróði meistari kom heim reyndi hann list sína enn af nýju ok sá enn stjǫrnu Sæmundar ok mælti: “Á lífi er enn Kollr lærisveinn minn, er betr er, en nógu mart hefi ek kennt honum, því at hann sigrar mik nú í stjǫrnuíþrótt ok bragðvísi sinni. Ok fari þeir nú heilir ok vel, því at ekki get ek á móti staðit þeira brotferð. Ok mikils mun Jóni þessum auðit verða, ok langæligar nytjar munu menn hafa hans hamingju.” En þeir Jón fóru leiðar sinnar, ok fórsk þeim vel ok greiðliga.

It is as if he is under some sort of a spell, an enchantment which makes him seek a furtherance of his knowledge, which is then dispelled by the holy man who 'names' him. The master, who is extremely skillful in astronomical divinations, is unwilling to let his student go, and chases after him in person. No wonder, that in later folklore his master was considered to have been no other than the devil.

I recall reading about a three-way definition system of the supernatural. Things could either be miraculous, magical or wondrous, and as the middle ages progressed, the wondrous increasingly became redefined as either miraculous or magical; miracles being of God, magic being of the devil, and wonders being independent of both parties, usually third party creatures or nature. The question is whether to place the astronomiam in the category of wonders or of magic. I imagine that it is rather a 'wonder' than magic, as it would be strange to see a saint running around with a devilish magician.

In fact, the word that is used at some point, for the action of astronomia, is skipa, which is sometimes used in relation to interpreting dreams. One then imagines that reading the stars is a skill sort of like reading true meaning from dreams.


The master observers how well he has taught his apprentice. I don't remember who, perhaps it was Gracian, who wrote that one should never impart all of one's knowledge upon anyone, lest one lose one's place as master to the other. We can also observe the names the master uses for Sæmundur, first there is Kollr, which means something like a 'hornless male/head', and thus a pet-name for a boy-child. Then there is fóstri, 'foster-son', meistari, 'master,' and finally lærisveinn, 'apprentice.' In other words, the master clearly had a close relationship with his apprentice, adopting him and teaching him so well.

But what, dear reader, what is the significance of the shoes in this little episode? Why fill his shoes of water and blood?


P.S. In front of the university of Iceland there is supposedly a sculpture of Sæmundur fróði beating a seal in the head with a psalter, as told in a famous folk-myth.

Spring

Dear reader, this time I have for you a rare delight. The letter of a romantic poet, Icelandic, to a sheriff, in which the poet complains about the attention that he gets from a specific woman.

Reykjavík April 19'th, 1842.

(Private!)
You know this shrew - Þóra is her name, a simpleton/lunatic as far as I know, and has panty-fever and stalks me day and night, indoors and out, so that I never have peace and here is like in Hell. I can swear on my honor and on God if that is demanded, that I never in work nor act given her an occasion for these assaults, but I have heard that while I lay sick she dreamt that I would come alive again, "and become her second husband". This is as you can see yourself intolerable; she slowed down for a while, but has now suddenly become again more than intolerable; I had to cover my window, so I shouldn't all day have to look into those disgusting and geriatric slut-eyes.

I wish you were for an hourglass-grain in my place, so that you might see how just it is that the police neglects it's first duty: to defend innocent citizens. God knows that I am innocent, and have now had to suffer this disgrace for over two years. But patience has expired; if I in my rage drive a rock or a stick out through the window into her mouth, then I will be fined, but yours is "the moral responsibility."

Your J. Hallgrímsson.

P.S. Confront the shrew and she will admit that they are all empty fantasies or pranks of hers. I will not flee the town because of this disgraceful persecution, which shames the town and the police more than [it shames] me; do something rather than doing nothing, summon me before a court, though I would be more than very sorry for it. But peace I want to have, I am in full right to demand it. I also apologize for not speaking with you in person, but I am almost bedridden by bitterness and all this senseless and unrelenting persecution from a very old and heinous slut is above that for me such a contemptible thing and the neglect of the police is in such a way not understandable that I couldn't name it with cold blood.

J.H.
(One line as a response I request to return swiftly, for now I am going to go a bit outside the law and take myself to court(?); then you are to sentence me. (The pen is worse than a grass straw.))

The Icelandic Original:

Jónas Hallgrímsson, til Stefáns Gunnlaugssonnar fógeta.
Rkv. 19/4 '42.

(Prívat!)
Þú þekkir þessa kerlingu - Þóra heitir hún, vitlaus að ég held, og hefir brókarsótt og situr um mig nótt og dag, úti og inni, svo ég hef aldrei frið og hér er eins og í helvíti. Nú get ég svarið við æru mína og við guð ef þess er krafist, að ég hefi aldrei í orði né verki gefið henni tilefni til þessarar aðferðar, en ég hef heyrt að meðan ég lá veikur hafi hana dreymt ég mundi lifna aftur við "og verða seinni maðurinn sinn". Þetta er eins og þú sérð sjálfur óþolandi; hún hafði hægt á sér um stund, en er nú aftur allt í einu orðin meir en óþolandi; ég verð að þekja fyrir gluggann minn, svo ég skuli ekki allan daginn þurfa að sjá í þessi svívirðilegu og afgömlu pútuaugu.

Ég vildi þú værir stundarkorn kominn í minn stað, svo þú gætir séð hvursu réttlátt það er að "pólitíið" trassar fyrstu skylduna sína: að vernda saklausa borgara. Guð veit ég er saklaus og hef nú orðið að þola þessa svívirðing á þriðja ár. En þolinmæðin er þrotin; ef ég í bræði minni rek stein eða spýtu út um rúðu í kjaftinn á henni, þá verð ég sektaður, en þú átt "det moralske ansvar."

Þinn J. Hallgrímsson.

P.S.
Gakktu á kerlinguna og hún mun viðurkenna að þetta eru tómar grillur eða hrekkir úr henni sjálfri. Ég flý ekki bæinn fyrir þessari svívirðilegu ásókn, sem smánar bæinn og pólitíið meir en mig; gerðu eitthvað heldur en að gera ekki neitt, kallaðu mig fyrir rétt, þó mér sé það meir en dauðleitt. En frið vil ég hafa, ég á fullan rétt á að krefjast þess. Mér hæfir og að afsaka að ég tala ekki við þig munnlega, en ég er næstum lagstur af gremju og öll þessi vitlausa og óþverrandi ásókn af afgamallri og svívirðilegri pútu er mér þess utan svo mikil viðurstyggð og trassaskapur pólitíisins svo óskiljanlegur að ég gæti ekki nefnt það með köldu blóði.

J.H.
(Eina línu sem ég svar óska ég fljótt til baka, því ég ætla nú úr þessu að fara ögn út fyrir lögin og "tage mig selv til rette"; svo átt þú að dæma mig. (Penninn er verri en puntstrá.))

Jónas Hallgrímsson was very important in the Icelandic romantic-nationalist-independence-etcetera movement. (You should remember, dear reader, that any place as sparsely populated as Iceland is likely to have individual characters taking on multiple roles, even sometimes contradictory ones.)

I have adopted the translation shared at the site of the University of Wisconsin, which I found to be deviating a little too much from the original for my taste. As my friend frequently repeats to me, a translation is like a woman, that there are beautiful women and then there are faithful women, and that it is rare to find a woman of both qualities. Let me then here redress this one as more faithful:

Iceland, land of fortunes and frost-white mother of prosperities,
where is your fame of antiquity, freedom and virtue greatest?
All things in the world are transient, and the moment of your most beautiful elation
lights like a flash in a night long into an age gone.

The Icelandic original is as follows:

Ísland, farsælda frón og hagsælda hrímhvíta móðir,
hvar er þín fornaldar frægð, frelsið og manndáðin best?
Allt er í heiminum hverfult, og stund þíns fegursta frama
lýsir sem leiftur um nótt langt fram á horfinni öld.

In fact, the other translation, this one offered by the University of Wisconsin, infuriates me. The first verse is exemplar: the poet has an excellent description of the glory of the past appearing to him when viewing the past like a lightning flashing in a long night, which that translator seems to substitute with a weak comparison to a flickering flame, which is not what the poet is saying, at all.

Perhaps this is yet another sign that I am out of touch with reality. I get upset with bad translations which no one reads. I do not, however, get upset upon reading news of the world, of calamities or warfare. Some might say that this is just because situations are distant, but I did not get upset either over the collapsing Icelandic economy, although the noise surrounding the situation did bother me.

In any case, the accuracy of a translation, unlike the idea of now-greatly-unfavorable future-prospects, is something that can shake me to the core.


The poem itself is significantly longer, but it is rare that any Icelander remembers or quotes any other part. It is all in the same spirit, I suppose. Firstly praising the beauty of Iceland, secondly lamenting the state of it's current inhabitants.

I liked the letter, firstly because it was so outrageously unlike the idea of the poet I had in my mind since primary school, secondly because it is more common to hear of how romantic poets were womanizing, as this one was in his early years, going around Reykjavík, supposedly wearing some fancy blue hat, but it is not at all as common to read letters in which they feel negatively about attention from the opposite gender.

Poor woman though, I imagine she was quite lonely.