In three hours my tour was complete. The general impression upon my mind was sadness. No trees, no vegetation, so to speak—on all sides volcanic peaks—the huts of turf and earth—more like roofs than houses. Thanks to the heat of these residences, grass grows on the roof, which grass is carefully cut for hay. I saw but few inhabitants during my excursion, but I met a crowd on the beach, drying, salting, and loading codfish, the principal article of exportation. The men appeared robust but heavy; fair-haired like Germans, but of pensive mien—unhappy exiles from the greater part of humanity, who, like the Eskimos, are compelled to live within the limits of the Polar Circle.
Sometimes they gave vent to a convulsive laugh, but by no chance did they smile. Their costume consists of a coarse capote of black wool, known in Scandinavian countries as the “vadmel,” a broad-brimmed hat, trousers of red serge, and a piece of leather tied with strings for a shoe—a coarse kind of moccasin. The women, though sad-looking and mournful, had rather agreeable features, without much expression. They wear a bodice and petticoat of somber vadmel. When unmarried they wear a little brown knitted cap over a crown of plaited hair; but when married, they cover their heads with a colored handkerchief, over which they tie a white scarf.
VII
Conversation and Discovery
When I returned, dinner was ready. This meal was devoured by my worthy relative with avidity and voracity. His shipboard diet had turned his interior into a perfect gulf. The repast, which was more Danish than Icelandic, was in itself nothing, but the excessive hospitality of our host made us enjoy it doubly.
The conversation turned upon scientific matters, and M. Fridriksson asked my uncle what he thought of the public library.
“Library, sir?” cried my uncle; “it appears to me a collection of useless odd volumes, and a beggarly amount of empty shelves.”
“What!” cried M. Fridriksson; “why, we have eight thousand volumes of most rare and valuable works—some in the Scandinavian language, besides all the new publications from Copenhagen.”
“Eight thousand volumes, my dear sir—why, where are they?” cried my uncle.
“Scattered over the country, Professor Hardwigg. We are very studious, my dear sir, though we do live in Iceland. Every farmer, every laborer, every fisherman can both read and write—and we think that books instead of being locked up in cupboards, far from the sight of students, should be distributed as widely as possible. The books of our library are therefore, passed from hand to hand without returning to the library shelves perhaps for years.”
“Then when foreigners visit you, there is nothing for them to see?”
“Well, sir, foreigners have their own libraries, and our first consideration is, that our humbler classes should be highly educated. Fortunately, the love of study is innate in the Icelandic people. In 1816 we founded a Literary Society and Mechanics’ Institute; many foreign scholars of eminence are honorary members; we publish books destined to educate our people, and these books have rendered valuable services to our country. Allow me to have the honor, Professor Hardwigg, to enroll you as an honorary member?”
My uncle, who already belonged to nearly every literary and scientific institution in Europe, immediately yielded to the amiable wishes of good M. Fridriksson.
“And now,” he said, after many expressions of gratitude and good will, “if you will tell me what books you expected to find, perhaps I may be of some assistance to you.”
I watched my uncle keenly. For a minute or two he hesitated, as if unwilling to speak; to speak openly was, perhaps, to unveil his projects. Nevertheless, after some reflection, he made up his mind.
“Well, M. Fridriksson,” he said in an easy, unconcerned kind of way. “I was desirous of ascertaining, if among other valuable works, you had any of the learned Arne Saknussemm.”
“Arne Saknussemm!” cried the Professor of Reykjavik; “you speak of one of the most distinguished scholars of the sixteenth century, of the great naturalist, the great alchemist, the great traveler.”
“Exactly so.”
“One of the most distinguished men connected with Icelandic science and literature.”
“As you say, sir—”
“A man illustrious above all.”