ICELAND | AdventAI

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Jul 16, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 36.

ICELAND.

ICELAND is an island about 300 miles long and 200 miles wide at its greatest width, and at the last census it had a population of 72,445. It is 500 miles north of Scotland, 850 miles west from Norway, and 130 miles east from Greenland. Since 1380 it has belonged to Denmark.

In the year A.D. 874 several families from Norway went to Iceland. For seventy or eighty years previously the island had been visited, and had some few settlers, but the first colony settled there in 874. Beginning with a patriarchal form of government, Iceland remained a flourishing republic for three centuries. Then it passed to the Norwegian crown, and in 1380 was transferred to Denmark.

Iceland has a constitution and administration of its own, the legislative power being vested in the Althing, which consists of thirty-six members, thirty elected by household suffrage and six nominated by the king. The Althing meets at Reikiavik, the capital, every second year, sitting in two divisions. The upper consists of six members nominated by the king of Denmark, and six elected by the representatives of the people. The lower division is composed of the twenty-four remaining members of the Althing.

Reikiavik has about two thousand inhabitants. The houses are generally of wood and but one story high. At certain seasons of the year the air is heavy with the smell of codfish, which is the principal article of export and one of the few articles of wealth. The coat of arms of Iceland is a codfish spread open upon a shield and surmounted by a crown.

The ordinary Icelander is a person who is phenomenally serious, seldom smiles, and neither can take a joke nor make one. In stature and physique he is slighter than the Norwegian. His height is not so great, his shoulders are less broad, and his limbs less brawny. In his costume, except for his shoes of ill-tanned sealskin, there is but little unconventionality. His suit is of black homespun, for the Icelandic sheep produce wool of excellent quality and length, which the housewives spin and weave during the long nights of winter.

The feminine costume is more characteristic. On ordinary everyday occasions the garb is all of black, relieved only at the bosom by a coquettish glimpse of white chemisette stiffly starched. The abundant hair is carefully braided, usually in four strands, which are then caught up at the ends. Matron and maid, the women wear upon the head, both at home and abroad, a jaunty, disc-like cap, black in color, and so firmly knitted that it seems to be of cloth; from its center depends to the shoulder a tassel of silk, held at the top by a silver slide. Where it can be afforded, a black silk apron completes the attire.

The holiday costume is still more effective. A dress waist elaborately embroidered with silver thread, and often a precious heirloom for generations, replaces the one usually worn. A silver belt of antique workmanship clasps the waist, and upon the head is set the graceful faldur, a Phrygian helmet of stiff white linen, over which is thrown a white gauze veil. A gala costume, now scarcely ever seen, is still more elaborate. In addition to the silver ornaments of belt and waist, a flat silver embroidered ruff stands stiffly from the neck. Upon the head is wound, like a turban, a handkerchief of figured silk, while over it

curves a stiff white linen headdress, shaped like a miniature pulpit sounding-board.

During the long, dark winter months the Icelanders are confined to their cheerless huts. The walls of these huts are usually about four feet high, and are constructed of alternate layers of stone and turf. Some sort of a wooden roof is placed on the walls, and this is covered thickly with sod. The dwellings are really clusters of separate huts, as the apartments are entirely separated from each other by thick walls of turf, and each has a separate roof. A long, dark, narrow passage leads to different apartments, among which are the cow shed, a sheep house, and often a blacksmith's shop. What light there is usually is admitted through holes in the roof covered with pieces of skin or glass, though occasionally a hut has small windows in the front. The floor is of hardened lava. Headless casks or barrels are often used for chimneys, but sometimes a hole in the roof forms the only outlet for smoke.

In Iceland everybody has something of an education. The children are all taught to read and write by their mothers. No means of obtaining knowledge is neglected. During the long winter months, while all the rest are engaged in spinning, knitting, mending tools, or chiseling ornaments from wood, one member of the family reads aloud from some book or paper.

As books are not very plentiful, when the Icelander goes to church he carries along some of his books to lend to his neighbor, and brings some of his neighbor's books home to read, and often one of these books is copied entire before it is returned.

The Icelanders show plainly enough their Scandinavian origin, and but little new blood has come in since the settlement, over a thousand years ago. One sees, however, fewer pleasing faces, both among men and women, than in Norway. It is a harsh life at the best, in this unpropitious climate. It is far too serious a matter to be lived lightly, and there are few pleasures.

In their social conditions the Icelanders are neither the best nor the worst of the world's people. Although, as a whole, the nation is to be characterized neither as immoral nor irreligious, its morals are by no means unimpeachable nor its religion zealous. The little cathedral at Reikiavik and the parish churches throughout the land are well filled on Sundays and festivals with congregations of worshipers. The Bible, thanks to the English Bible Society, is everywhere diffused, and books of homilies and hymns are common in nearly all households; but the religion is, after all, of that lukewarm quality that characterizes Protestant Germany. As a unit the nation is staunchly Lutheran, and schismatic "isms" have never appealed to Icelandic ears nor found root in Icelandic hearts. Viewed comprehensively, the morals of the country are excellent, but judged in detail, the ethical code is, nevertheless, not wholly free from anomalies. Crime of any sort is infrequent. The Icelanders are and always have been a litigious folk, and their law courts are crowded with neighbor feuds and cases of grievance real or imagined, but their jails are empty and their house doors without locks. In all the land there are no criminal classes, and even petty crime is almost absolutely unknown.—Gospel in All Lands.