Bishop Jón seems to have passed the winter comfortably. His ruin came through overweening; his son Ari (generally called the Lawman) had done his best to keep him from more raiding; his wife Helga thought poorly of her son Ari for this, and stirred him in the old-fashioned way with the present of a woman's skirt : so that Ari went along with his father and his brother Síra Björn in the last expedition. The scene of failure is one that has come into older history; Saudafell, where Jón Arason and his sons were taken by Dadi Gudmundsson, had been once the house of Sturla Sighvatsson, and the raid on Saudafell by the sons of Thorvald, in January, 1229, when the master was away, is one of the memorable episodes in Sturlunga. It stands rather high at the mouth of a valley looking north-west over the water, towards Hvamm and other famous places, past the country of Laxdale. Snóksdal, the house of Dadi Gudmundsson, is close to it, below, and nearer to the sea. Saudafell had been one chief cause of contention between the bishop and Dadi; both had some sort of a claim to it. The bishop went there in September, 1550, not as a raider, but to keep an engagement and attend a court. The Lawman Orm Sturluson had been asked, and had agreed, to hold a court at Saudafell to decide the differences between the parties. Jón and his sons came to Saudafell and stayed there some days. They did not understand their enemy; he was preparing a surprise, which was thoroughly successful. The bishop and his two sons were taken; their followers scattered, every man his own way, except two who stood fast. But then came perplexity for the victorious side. It was October; nothing could be settled till the following summer. The prisoners were to be kept till the Althing. Judgment was pronounced in a court held at Snóksdal, October 23rd, 1550. The bishop and his sons had been outlawed by the king; the king had commanded Dadi to take them; Christian, the deputy, was to keep them in custody at Skalholt, with the assistance of Martin, till the Althing in summer. But it was not easy to keep them safe; the men of the North might be expected to come and rescue their bishop. They were removed to Skalholt, as the court had decided. Christian, the Governor's deputy, who had come to Snóksdal at once after the capture, was always in consultation with Dadi. Then at last someone said the inevitable word: "Let the earth keep them." Bishop Jón Arason and Björn and Ari, his sons, were beheaded at Skalholt on the Friday after Hallowmas, November 7th, 1550. How they bore themselves was clearly remembered. It has already been told how Jón Arason answered the poor well-meaning minister who warned him against idolatry, and spoke of a future life. It was long before the Reformers gave up their unnecessary consolations; Mary Queen of Scots had to endure the same sort of importunity. Ari was the most regretted of the three. "I went into this game against my will, and willingly I leave it." The bishop remembered the poor of his diocese; he always gave away supplies in spring, and now sent a message to Hólar to take care this should not be forgotten. He also made an epigram : What is the world? a bitter cheat, The bodies of the three were at Skalholt all winter ; in the spring of 1551 they were brought home to the North like the relics of martyrs. Vengeance had already been taken for them, and it was Jón's daughter Thorun who set it going. Among the men of the North who went South for the fishing that winter were some who meant to have the life of Christian, the Danish deputy. They got him at Kirkjuból, out at the end of Rosmhvalanes, and surrounded the house, wearing hoods and masks—a modern precaution. Before breaking into the house they asked and got leave from the owner: "Yes, break away, if you pay for it after." Christian and some other Danes were killed. It was reported that they came back from their graves, which made it necessary to dig them up and cut their heads off, with further preventive measures. Ships of war came out, too late; and it is notable that the commander who was sent from Denmark to bring Bishop Jón Arason before King Christian III. was the same Kristoffer Trondsson (a great sea-captain in his day) who had enabled Archbishop Olaf Engelbrektsson of Nidaros to escape from Norway to the Netherlands, in April, 1537, out of the same king's danger. The case against Jón Arason is found in the form of a speech supposed to have been delivered by Christian, the Danish deputy, in Skalholt, the day before the beheading of the bishop and his sons. This is scarcely less remarkable than the letter of Gizur Einarsson as an historical document of the Reformation. The following is a good sample : Likewise it is known to many gentlemen how Bishop John and his sons have set themselves to oppose the native people of this land, who have been at cost to venture over sea and salt water, sailing to transact their due business before our gracious lord the King, and many of them from their long voyage and their trouble have received letters from his Majesty, some upon monasteries, some upon royal benefices, which same letters of his Majesty might no longer avail or be made effective by no means, but as soon as they came here to Iceland, Bishop John and his sons have made the King's letters null and void, and many a poor man has had his long journey for nothing and all in vain.” On the other hand, it must be observed that with the exception of some contemporary rhymes upon his death none of the records which bring out the heroic character of Jón Arason were written by Catholics. The curious impartiality of the old Icelandic historians is still found working with regard to the Protestant Reformation, and it is Lutheran opinion in Iceland that thinks of Jón Arason as a martyr. XXXII JACOB GRIMM STUDENTS of language might some time consider the problem of value which offers itself when conventional words are required to express a genuine sentiment. It is one of the troubles of advancing age, that what was hackneyed in youth becomes hackneyed ever more and more there are customary phrases prescribed for solemn occasions, and respectable speakers will repeat them and feel no discomfort, and respectable audiences will accept them as their due. But in the Philological Society, where no word is lifeless, how can the President repeat merely the ordinary formulas about the great honour done him by his election? Yet what less, or more, can he say? Less would seem churlish, and more might seem too effusive. I can only assure the Society that I am deeply sensible of the honour, and grateful to them for their generous confidence. Naturally when one is called to fill a place of dignity and responsibility, one thinks of those who have held it before; valiant men who have gone, and who leave the encouragement of their good work to those that come after. Might I claim the auspices of Henry Sweet for my tenure of this presidential chair? I think I might; I have many proofs of his friendship; his ingenuous and humorous judgment of studies not |