Grettir the Outlaw A Story of Iceland

It is now just thirty years since I first began to read the “Saga of Grettir the Strong” in Icelandic. At that time I had only a Danish grammar of Icelandic and an Icelandic-Danish dictionary, and I did not know a word of Danish. So I had to learn Danish in order to learn Icelandic.It was laborious work making out the Saga, and every line when I began took me some time to understand. Moreover, I had not much time at my disposal, for then I was a master in a school.Now, after I had worked a little way into the Saga, I became intensely interested in it myself, and it struck me that my boys whom I taught might like to hear about Grettir. So I tried every day to translate, after school hours, a chapter, hardly ever more at first, and sometimes not even as much as that. Then, when on half-holidays I proposed a walk to some of my scholars, they were keen to hear the story of Grettir. Well, Grettir went on for some months in this way, a fresh instalment of the tale coming every half-holiday, and it was really wonderful how interested and delighted the boys were with the story. Nor was I less so; the labour of translation which was so great at first became rapidly lighter, and I was as much interested in the adventures of the hero as were the boys. The other day I met an old pupil of mine, and almost the first thing he said to me was: “Oh! do you remember Grettir? Thirty years ago! Fancy! I am a married man and have boys of my own, and I have often tried to tell them the story which made such an impression on me, but I cannot remember all the incidents nor their order. I do wish you would write it as a story for boys. I should like to read it myself again, and my boys would love it.” “Very well,” I said, “I will do so.”Now my boy readers must understand that I have told them the story in my own words and in my own way. I went to Iceland in 1861, and went over nearly every bit of the ground made famous by the adventures of Grettir...