Letters From High Latitudes [101]
excursion as far as Lade, saw a waterfall, which is one of the lions of this neighbourhood (but a very mitigated lion, which "roars you as soft as any sucking dove"), and returned in the evening to attend a ball given to celebrate the visit of the Crown Prince.
At Lade, I confess I could think of nothing but "the great Jarl" Hacon, the counsellor, and maker of kings, king himself in all but the name, for he ruled over the western sea-board of Norway, while Olaf Tryggvesson was yet a wanderer and exile. He is certainly one of the most picturesque figures of these Norwegian dramas; what with his rude wit, his personal bravery, and that hereditary beauty of his race for which he was conspicuous above the rest. His very errors, great as they were, have a dash and prestige about them, which in that rude time must have dazzled men's eyes, and especially WOMEN'S, as his story proves. It was his sudden passion for the beautiful Gudrun Lyrgia (the "Sun of Lunde," as she was called), which precipitated the avenging fate which years of heart-burnings and discontent among his subjects had been preparing. Gudrun's husband incites the Bonders to throw off the yoke of the licentious despot,--Olaf Tryggvesson is proclaimed king,--and the "great Jarl of Lade" is now a fugitive in the land he so lately ruled, accompanied by a single thrall, named Karker.
In this extremity, Jarl Hacon applies for aid to Thora of Rimmol, a lady whom he had once dearly loved; she is faithful in adversity to the friend of happier days, and conceals the Jarl and his companion in a hole dug for this purpose, in the swine-stye, and covered over with wood and litter; as the only spot likely to elude the hot search of his enemies. Olaf and the Bonders seek for him in Thora's house, but in vain; and finally, Olaf, standing on the very stone against which the swine-stye is built, promises wealth and honours to him who shall bring him the Jarl of Lade's head. The scene which follows is related by the Icelandic historian with Dante's tragic power.
There was a little daylight in their hiding-place, and the Jarl and Karker both hear the words of Olaf.
"Why art thou so pale?" says the Jarl," and now again as black as earth? Thou dost not mean to betray me?"
"By no means," said Karker.
"We were born on the same night," said the Jarl, "and the time will not be long between our deaths."
When night came, the Jarl kept himself awake,--but Karker slept;--a troubled sleep. The Jarl awoke him, and asked of what he was dreaming. He answered, "I was at Lade, and Olaf was laying a gold ring about my neck."
The Jarl said, "It will be a RED ring about thy neck, if he catches thee: from me thou shalt enjoy all that is good,--therefore, betray me not!"
Then they both kept themselves awake; "THE ONE, AS IT WERE, WATCHING UPON THE OTHER." But towards day, the Jarl dropped asleep, and in his unquiet slumber he drew his heels under him, and raised his neck as if going to rise, "and shrieked fearfully." On this, Karker, "dreadfully alarmed," drew a knife from his belt, stuck it into the Jarl's throat, and cut off his head. Late in the day he came to Lade, brought the Jarl's head to Olaf, and told his story.
It is a comfort to know that "the red ring" was laid round the traitor's neck: Olaf caused him to be beheaded.
What a picture that is, in the swine-stye, those two haggard faces, travel-stained and worn with want of rest, watching each other with hot, sleepless eyes through the half darkness, and how true to nature is the nightmare of the miserable Jarl!
It was on my return from Lade, that I found your letters; and that I might enjoy them without interruption, I carried them off to the churchyard--(such a beautiful place!)--to read in peace and quiet. The churchyard was NOT "populous with young men, striving to be alone," as Tom Hood describes it to have been in a certain sentimental parish; so I enjoyed the seclusion I anticipated.
I was much struck by the loving care and ornament bestowed on the graves; some were literally loaded with flowers, and
At Lade, I confess I could think of nothing but "the great Jarl" Hacon, the counsellor, and maker of kings, king himself in all but the name, for he ruled over the western sea-board of Norway, while Olaf Tryggvesson was yet a wanderer and exile. He is certainly one of the most picturesque figures of these Norwegian dramas; what with his rude wit, his personal bravery, and that hereditary beauty of his race for which he was conspicuous above the rest. His very errors, great as they were, have a dash and prestige about them, which in that rude time must have dazzled men's eyes, and especially WOMEN'S, as his story proves. It was his sudden passion for the beautiful Gudrun Lyrgia (the "Sun of Lunde," as she was called), which precipitated the avenging fate which years of heart-burnings and discontent among his subjects had been preparing. Gudrun's husband incites the Bonders to throw off the yoke of the licentious despot,--Olaf Tryggvesson is proclaimed king,--and the "great Jarl of Lade" is now a fugitive in the land he so lately ruled, accompanied by a single thrall, named Karker.
In this extremity, Jarl Hacon applies for aid to Thora of Rimmol, a lady whom he had once dearly loved; she is faithful in adversity to the friend of happier days, and conceals the Jarl and his companion in a hole dug for this purpose, in the swine-stye, and covered over with wood and litter; as the only spot likely to elude the hot search of his enemies. Olaf and the Bonders seek for him in Thora's house, but in vain; and finally, Olaf, standing on the very stone against which the swine-stye is built, promises wealth and honours to him who shall bring him the Jarl of Lade's head. The scene which follows is related by the Icelandic historian with Dante's tragic power.
There was a little daylight in their hiding-place, and the Jarl and Karker both hear the words of Olaf.
"Why art thou so pale?" says the Jarl," and now again as black as earth? Thou dost not mean to betray me?"
"By no means," said Karker.
"We were born on the same night," said the Jarl, "and the time will not be long between our deaths."
When night came, the Jarl kept himself awake,--but Karker slept;--a troubled sleep. The Jarl awoke him, and asked of what he was dreaming. He answered, "I was at Lade, and Olaf was laying a gold ring about my neck."
The Jarl said, "It will be a RED ring about thy neck, if he catches thee: from me thou shalt enjoy all that is good,--therefore, betray me not!"
Then they both kept themselves awake; "THE ONE, AS IT WERE, WATCHING UPON THE OTHER." But towards day, the Jarl dropped asleep, and in his unquiet slumber he drew his heels under him, and raised his neck as if going to rise, "and shrieked fearfully." On this, Karker, "dreadfully alarmed," drew a knife from his belt, stuck it into the Jarl's throat, and cut off his head. Late in the day he came to Lade, brought the Jarl's head to Olaf, and told his story.
It is a comfort to know that "the red ring" was laid round the traitor's neck: Olaf caused him to be beheaded.
What a picture that is, in the swine-stye, those two haggard faces, travel-stained and worn with want of rest, watching each other with hot, sleepless eyes through the half darkness, and how true to nature is the nightmare of the miserable Jarl!
It was on my return from Lade, that I found your letters; and that I might enjoy them without interruption, I carried them off to the churchyard--(such a beautiful place!)--to read in peace and quiet. The churchyard was NOT "populous with young men, striving to be alone," as Tom Hood describes it to have been in a certain sentimental parish; so I enjoyed the seclusion I anticipated.
I was much struck by the loving care and ornament bestowed on the graves; some were literally loaded with flowers, and