Paradise Reclaimed by Halldór Laxness Read Free Book Online Page A

his namesake Harald hilditönn (War-Tooth).* All Icelandic genealogies can be traced back to the Ynglings and the Scyldings*—if there happens to be anyone left in the world who knows who these folk were. It was child’s play for most of the Icelanders to prove kinship with Sigurd the Dragon-Killer, King Gautrekur of Gotaland,* and Ganger-Hrolf;* but those of yet more recondite erudition could claim connection with Charlemagne and Frederick Barbarossa, or could work their way right back to Agamemnon, noblest of the Greeks, the conqueror of Troy. Learned foreigners called the Icelanders the greatest genealogists in Europe after royal pedigrees had been denounced as pomp and vanity as a result of the French Revolution.
    Many people had ridden to Þingvellir just to see with their own eyes what manner of man it was to whom the saga-writers of old had given life in their books. Many of them claimed kinship with much greater princes than King Kristian Wilhelmsson; and although the farmers gave due respect to the high rank and royal title that the Danes had conferred on this foreigner, it is unlikely King Kristian ever in his whole life found himself in a company of people who considered him so inferior to themselves in pedigree as did those stunted rickety peasants tramping around in their crumpled cowhide shoes. It has never been forgotten in Iceland that it was only with the help of Icelandic genealogies that this offspring of German cottage-nobility, reared as a foster-child in Denmark, could trace his ancestry back to King Gormur gamli (the Old)* of Denmark—who, according to some, never existed at all. But it is a measure of King Kristian Wilhelmsson’s qualities that, despite his humble origins, the Icelanders have always esteemed him more highly than most other Danish kings; and it goes to show that even in a nation of fanatical genealogists there are people who at a pinch can value some things more highly then the ancestral seed which flowed a thousand years ago. Kristian Wilhelmsson had one outstanding attribute which, despite his lowly antecedents, won him the Icelanders’ regard and even their admiration, and that was his horsemanship. It is an Icelandic dogma that kings should be able to ride well; indeed, a man on a good mount is respected above all others. White horses have always been considered one of Iceland’s greatest glories, and farmers competed to supply them when royalty was riding through their district. Also, in those days most Icelanders took tobacco through the nose from wooden flasks or horn receptacles; this tobacco is called
snuss
in Low German, and Icelanders respect any man who accepts a pinch from them. It is said that King Kristian Wilhelmsson, too, liked his snuff.
    It is not to be denied that the Icelanders were glad to receive their new constitution from the Danish king—but not exuberantly so. In fact, they completely forgot to thank him for it during the festivities. There was only one man there who had the presence of mind to thank the king for the gift on the Icelanders’ behalf—albeit uninvited and unauthorized; and this was the Danish baron who had drafted the constitution for the king. Perhaps too many Icelanders felt that the gift merely represented something which was already theirs by right and did not go far enough, at that. The king, for his part, quite forgot to thank the Icelanders for what they thought the most significant thing they gave him in return, which was the poetry composed in his honour. Some poets composed as many as eight poems about him. It is not the custom in Germany to compose poetry in honour of county governors, Electors, or even the Kaiser, and Kristian Wilhelmsson was left wide-eyed and open-mouthed as a procession of poets stepped forward one after the other and recited verse at him; he had never heard verse before, and did not know what it was.
    It is said that on the morning after the main ceremonies at Þingvellir some of the grooms were trying