Dominican Resonances in Medieval Iceland: The Legacy of Bishop Jón Halldórsson of Skálholt 9004448799, 9789004448797, 9789004465510

Table of contents :
List of Illustrations and Tables vii
Notes on Contributors viii
Introduction / Gunnar Harðarson and Karl G. Johansson 1
Part 1. Educational and Cultural Context
1. Canon, Dominican and Brother: The Life and Times of Jón Halldórsson in Bergen / Christian Etheridge 7
2. Bishop Jón Halldórsson and Clerical Culture in 14th-Century Iceland / Viðar Pálsson 41
Part 2. Dominican Exempla and Saga Literature
3. Bishop Jón Halldórsson and 14th-Century Innovations in Saga Narrative: The Case of 'Egils saga einhenda ok Ásmundar berserkjabana' / Gottskálk Jensson 59
4. Holy Ministry in Old Norse 'ævintýri' / Hjalti Snær Ægisson 79
5. 'Clári saga' and Its Continental Siblings: A Comparative Literary Approach to an Old Problem / Védís Ragnheiðardóttir 92
Part 3. Manuscripts and Illuminations
6. Jón Halldórsson and Law Manuscripts of Western Iceland c. 1320–40 / Stefan Drechsler 125
7. AM 657 a–b 4° and the Mouvance of Medieval Texts: Roles and Functions in the Transmission of Texts in a Manuscript Culture / Karl G. Johansson 151
Part 4. Music and Liturgy
8. Liturgical Change and Liturgical Plurality in the Province of Nidaros: New Light on the 'Ordo Nidrosiensis Ecclesiae' / Astrid Marner 183
9. Some Reflections on the Liturgy for St. Þorlákr / Gisela Attinger 203
Part 5. Manuscript Practice and Multiple Careers
10. Elucidating Charter Practice and Administrative Literacy in Four Works by Einarr Hafliðason / Embla Aae 225
11. Music and Manuscripts in Skálholt and Þingeyrar / Gunnar Harðarson 260
Appendices
Appendix 1: The Account of Bishop Jón Halldórsson ('Jón’s þáttr') 293
Appendix 2: Bishop Hákon of Bergen to Bishop Jón of Skálholt 301
Appendix 3: Christian Etheridge / The Booklist of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson 303
Appendix 4: Stefan Drechlser / Contents of AM 671 4° 317
Index 331

Citation preview

Dominican Resonances in Medieval Iceland

The Northern World North Europe and the Baltic c.400–​1 700 ad Peoples, Economies and Cultures

Editors Jón Viđar Sigurđsson (Oslo) Piotr Gorecki (University of California at Riverside) Steve Murdoch (St. Andrews) Cordelia Hes (Greifswald) Anne Pedersen (National Museum of Denmark)

volume 91

The titles published in this series are listed at brill.com/​nw

Dominican Resonances in Medieval Iceland The Legacy of Bishop Jón Halldórsson of Skálholt Edited by

Gunnar Harðarson and Karl G. Johansson

LEIDEN | BOSTON

Cover illustration: A page of the Office of St Þorlákr, Reykjavík, Árni Magnússon Institute, am 241 a ii fol. 03r. With kind permission of the Árni Magnússon Institute. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Gunnar Á. Harðarson, editor. | Johansson, Karl G., 1959- editor. Title: Dominican Resonances in Medieval Iceland : The Legacy of Bishop Jón Halldórsson of Skálholt / edited by Gunnar Harðarson and Karl G. Johansson. Description: Leiden ; Boston : Brill, [2021] | Series: The Northern world, 1569-1462 ; volume 91 | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2021019202 (print) | LCCN 2021019203 (ebook) | ISBN 9789004448797 (hardback) | ISBN 9789004465510 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Jón Halldórsson, Bishop of Skálholt, 1275-1339–Knowledge and learning. | Dominicans–Influence. | Learning and scholarship–History– Medieval, 500-1500. | Iceland–Intellectual life. Classification: LCC AZ321 .D66 2021 (print) | LCC AZ321 (ebook) | DDC 001.2–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021019202 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021019203

Typeface for the Latin, Greek, and Cyrillic scripts: “Brill”. See and download: brill.com/​brill-​typeface. issn 1569-​1 462 isbn 978-​9 0-​0 4-​4 4879-​7 (hardback) isbn 978-​9 0-​0 4-​4 6551-​0 (e-​book) Copyright 2021 by Koninklijke Brill nv, Leiden, The Netherlands. Koninklijke Brill nv incorporates the imprints Brill, Brill Nijhoff, Brill Hotei, Brill Schöningh, Brill Fink, Brill mentis, Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, Böhlau Verlag and V&R Unipress. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, translated, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior written permission from the publisher. Requests for re-​use and/​or translations must be addressed to Koninklijke Brill nv via brill.com or copyright.com. This book is printed on acid-​free paper and produced in a sustainable manner.

Contents  List of Illustrations and Tables vii  Notes on Contributors viii  Introduction 1 Gunnar Harðarson and Karl G. Johansson

part 1 Educational and Cultural Context 1  Canon, Dominican and Brother: The Life and Times of Jón Halldórsson in Bergen 7 Christian Etheridge 2  Bishop Jón Halldórsson and Clerical Culture in 14th-​Century Iceland 41 Viðar Pálsson

part 2 Dominican Exempla and Saga Literature 3  Bishop Jón Halldórsson and 14th-​Century Innovations in Saga Narrative: The Case of Egils saga einhenda ok Ásmundar berserkjabana 59 Gottskálk Jensson 4  Holy Ministry in Old Norse ævintýri 79 Hjalti Snær Ægisson 5  Clári saga and Its Continental Siblings: A Comparative Literary Approach to an Old Problem 92 Védís Ragnheiðardóttir

vi Contents

part 3 Manuscripts and Illuminations 6  Jón Halldórsson and Law Manuscripts of Western Iceland c. 1320–​40 125 Stefan Drechsler 7  a m 657 a–​b 4° and the Mouvance of Medieval Texts: Roles and Functions in the Transmission of Texts in a Manuscript Culture 151 Karl G. Johansson

part 4 Music and Liturgy 8  Liturgical Change and Liturgical Plurality in the Province of Nidaros: New Light on the Ordo Nidrosiensis Ecclesiae 183 Astrid Marner 9  Some Reflections on the Liturgy for St Þorlákr 203 Gisela Attinger

part 5 Manuscript Practice and Multiple Careers 10  Elucidating Charter Practice and Administrative Literacy in Four Works by Einarr Hafliðason 225 Embla Aae 11  Music and Manuscripts in Skálholt and Þingeyrar 260 Gunnar Harðarson

Appendices  Appendix 1: The Account of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (Jón’s þáttr) 293  Appendix 2: Bishop Hákon of Bergen to Bishop Jón of Skálholt 301  Appendix 3: C  hristian Etheridge, The Booklist of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson 303  Appendix 4: Stefan Drechlser, Contents of am 671 4° 317  Index 331

Illustrations and Tables Figures 6.1  a m 343 fol. (Svalbarðsbók), fol. 14v: Mannhelgisbálkr. 1330–​40 138 9.1  First page of the proper office of St Þorlákr, Reykjavík, Árni Magnússon Institute, am 241 a ii fol 206 9.2  Detail from Arnamagnaean Institute, Copenhagen University, am Acc. 7 hs 34 fol. (10)v 209 9.3  Detail from am 733 4° fol. 3v 210

Tables 5.1  A comparison of passages in Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa 113 5.2  Important similarities between the three oldest atu 900 tales 115 6.1  Kristindómsbálkr in am 343 fol. (Svalbarðsbók) 135 7.1  Texts related to hands, folios, and quires in AM 657 a–​b 4° 161 7.2  Ævintýri attributed to compiler α and divided between hand iii and iv 172 7.3  Ævintýri attributed to compiler β and all written by hand iv 173 8.1  The ordinal manuscript transmission 187 A.1  Content and dating of am 671 4° 317

Diagram A.1  Textual relations of manuscripts containing Jónsbók up to 1400 328

Notes on Contributors Embla Aae PhD Candidate, Department of Archaeology, History, Cultural Studies, and Religion, University of Bergen Gisela Attinger Senior Academic Librarian and Subject Specialist in Musicology and Cultural History, University of Oslo Library Christian Etheridge Post-​Doctoral Research Fellow in Art and the Natural Sciences at the National Museum of Denmark, Copenhagen Stefan Drechsler Post-​ Doctoral Research Fellow, Department of Linguistic, Literary, and Aesthetic Studies, University of Bergen Gottskálk Jensson Associate Professor, Department of Nordic Studies and Linguistics, University of Copenhagen Gunnar Harðarson Professor of Philosophy, Faculty of History and Philosophy, University of Iceland Hjalti Snær Ægisson PhD, Department of Icelandic and Comparative Cultural Studies, University of Iceland Karl G. Johansson Professor of Old Norse Philology, Department of Linguistics and Scandinavian Studies, Faculty of Humanities, University of Oslo Astrid Marner Dr. Phil., Independent Scholar, Copenhagen, Specialist in Medieval Latin and Medieval Liturgical Manuscripts

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Notes on Contributors

ix

Védís Ragnheiðardóttir PhD Candidate, Department of Icelandic and Comparative Cultural Studies, University of Iceland Viðar Pálsson Senior Lecturer in Medieval History, Faculty of History and Philosophy, University of Iceland

Introduction Gunnar Harðarson and Karl G. Johansson In May 2016 the Centre for Medieval Studies at the University of Iceland set out to hold a small conference in Skálholt on the legacy of a medieval bishop who reigned there from 1323 to 1339. The idea for this project originated in a conversation between the two editors of this volume during a coffee break at the 19th Biennial Congress of the New Chaucer Society in Reykjavik in July 2014. The intention was, at first, to compare Franciscan and Dominican influences in Scandinavia through a study of the literary output of Swedish and Norwegian friars who had studied in Paris. As it happened, the project turned to the figure, milieu and influence of the Dominican Jón Halldórsson, who was consecrated bishop of Skálholt in 1322 and whose stories and travels became something of a legend. The Dominicans had widespread influence throughout medieval Europe, including Scandinavia. Founded by Domingo Guzman, a Spanish canon regular, in order to preach the Gospel among suspected heretics in South-​Western France, the order of the Friar Preachers, Ordo Fratrum Praedicatorum, was officially recognized by Honorius iii in 1216. The Dominicans, as the Friar Preachers were called, soon turned into a highly effective organization of mobile and well-​educated preachers mainly targeting the urban milieu. By around 1217 they were already in Paris and Bologna and in 1221 a general chapter decided to send friars to England, where they made their way to Oxford, and also to Denmark where they established a number of houses in all the major towns, the earliest one in Lund (now in Sweden) in 1222. The province of Dacia, as the Nordic realm of the order was called, was created in 1228. In Norway, the Dominicans were present from 1237 and had houses in the towns of Oslo, Bergen, and Nidaros (Trondheim), and later in Hamar. In Sweden, the earliest houses in Sigtuna and Skänninge were established in 1237, which were soon followed by new houses. In Scandinavia, as elsewhere, the Dominicans were urban in their nature, well versed in canon law, in theology, and in natural philosophy which they learned at their studia, a system of schools of higher learning that they ran in parallel with the university system. In Iceland, however, the urban milieu in which they generally thrived did not exist, since Iceland had neither towns nor villages during the Middle Ages. Consequently, the few Dominicans that strayed there were officials in the service of the Church, either bishops, such as Jón Halldórsson of Skálholt (1322–​39) and Pétr Nikulásson of Hólar (1391–​1411), or emissaries sent on behalf of the archbishops of Nidaros.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_002

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The Dominican network in the province of Dacia was extensively covered in 1968 by Jarl Gallén in his magisterial study, La Province de Dacie de l’Ordre des frères prêcheurs, which is still of value.1 More recent studies have contributed to greater understanding of the presence of the Dominican order in particular places and of the individual houses that were established within the Scandinavian domain of the order.2 Some work has also been made on Jón Halldórsson in particular, such as a new edition of the account of his life in the Íslenzk fornrit series by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir accompanied by an excellent introduction to the manuscript tradition and the general context.3 Jón Halldórsson appears in the sources as a man of international learning and erudition. It is told how he studied in Paris and Bologna before he returned to his home town of Bergen. In 1322 he was consecrated as bishop of Skálholt and ended up spending the rest of his life in this position. How did his urban and continental background manifest itself during his years as a bishop there? Can we advance our insights into the Dominican influences in Iceland in Jón’s time as bishop? In order to further explore this field of study, the investigations presented in this volume treat various aspects of the domains affected by the activity and influence of Bishop Jón Halldórsson. These include church politics and the developments seen in the study of canon law; the use of texts in a wider sense, as manifested in written correspondence as well as in the use of exempla in narrative literature, but also in the composition of music and liturgy. Can we know more about his background, education and career? What was the impact of his contribution to new genres of medieval Icelandic literature and where did his inspiration come from? How did his knowledge of canon law manifest 1 Jarl Gallén, La Province de Dacie de l’Ordre des frères prêcheurs (Helsingfors: Söderström, 1946). 2 See, in particular, Johannes Schütz, Hüter der Wirklichkeit. Der Dominikanerorden in der mittelalterlichen Gesellschaft Skandinaviens (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014); Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen, “Prædikebrødrenes samfundsrolle i middelalderens Danmark” (PhD thesis, University of Southern Denmark, 2008) and “Social Friendships between the Dominican Order and Elite Groups in Thirteenth-​Century Scandinavia,” in Nordic Elites in Transformation, c. 1050–​1250. Volume 2: Social Networks, ed. Kim Esmark, Lars Hermanson, Hans Jacob Orning (Routledge, 2020). Jakobsen has collected many of the primary sources of the Dominicans in Scandinavia in his Diplomatarium OP Dacie website, see http://​jggj.dk/​ DOPD.htm. See also Róbert Abraham Ottósson, Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia rhythmica et proprium missaæ in AM 241 A folio (Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1959). 3 Söguþáttur af Jóni Halldórssyni biskupi, in Biskupa sögur III, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, Íslenzk fornrit 17 (Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998), 442–​56; see also Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “The Life and Literary Legacy of Jón Halldórsson, Bishop of Skálholt: A Profile of a Preacher in Fourteenth-​Century Iceland” (MPhil diss., University of St Andrews, 1997). On the institutional context see Erika Sigurdson, The Church in Fourteenth Century Iceland: The Formation of an Elite Clerical Identity (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2016).

Introduction

3

itself? Why was a new Officium Sancti Thorlaci composed on the model of the office of St Dominic himself during Jón Halldórsson’s years as bishop of Skálholt? What can we know about his circle, the careers of his acquaintances and administrative literacy during the early 14th century in Iceland? As papers from the conference in 2016 gradually developed into the chapters of a book project, some of the original participants went their own ways while others joined the project with fresh ideas, the culmination of which has resulted in the present volume. The book presents new perspectives on the figure and legacy of Bishop Jón Halldórsson and his milieu via a multidisciplinary approach, as is indeed needed for the study of such complex intellectual contexts. The first two chapters present the educational and intellectual background of our protagonist. Thus, Christian Etheridge situates the early life and career of Jón Halldórsson in the rich intellectual context of medieval Bergen and, having discussed his university studies in Paris and Bologna and his subsequent position as a canon in Christ Church Cathedral in Bergen, reevaluates his connection to the Dominican Order at different periods of his career. Subsequently, Viðar Pálsson presents the continental background for studies in canon law in Bologna as part of the context of Jón Halldórsson’s activity as bishop of Skálholt. The next three chapters explore his contribution and influence in Old Norse literature. First, Gottskálk Jensson presents innovations in 14th-​century saga literature by analyzing two legendary sagas and relating them to the Dominican tradition of exempla reflecting the influence of Jón Halldórson. Then, Hjalti Snær Ægisson discusses holy ministry in Old Norse ævintýri, while Védís Ragnheiðardóttir examines the continental analogues and common motifs in a study of Clári saga. Thereafter, there are two chapters that provide insights into manuscript production during Jón Halldórsson’s years in Skálholt and beyond. Karl G. Johansson conducts an analysis on the 14th century manuscript am 657 a–​b 4° containing tales and exempla, including the life of Jón Halldórsson, from the point of view of material philology, placing it in the context of the Northern Benedictine school and arriving at a different conclusion on its structure and composition than has been argued in previous scholarship. Stefan Drechsler, in turn, focuses on the production of 14th-​century juridical manuscripts containing both secular and canon law, including the statutes of Jón Halldórsson. By analyzing material aspects of the manuscripts, he places them in the context of Jón Halldórsson’s church politics, in relation to Jón’s visitations to the west of Iceland and the abbey of Helgafell in particular. The next two chapters deal with music and liturgy in manuscripts from the province of Nidaros and specifically the see of Skálholt. These have a particular

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Harðarson and Johansson

focus on the Office of St Þorlákr, composed on the basis of the Office of St Dominic. Thus, Gisela Attinger discusses the manuscript tradition of the Office of St Þorlákr in the 14th and 15th centuries, arriving at the conclusion that there were possibly three office traditions in use during the later Middle Ages, while Astrid Marner takes a more general view of the liturgical traditions in the province of Nidaros, emphasizing a liturgical diversity reflecting different local practices within the general framework of the province. Finally, the last two chapters consider aspects of administrative literacy and textual production by two individuals who were in contact with Jón Halldórsson. Embla Aae discusses Einarr Hafliðason, author of the Saga of Bishop Laurentius of Hólar, and Gunnar Harðarson reassesses the career and activity of Jón’s co-​worker Arngrímr Brandsson who has been credited with works composed during the first half of the 14th century. In appendices we have thought it useful to present a translation of the account of the life of Jón Halldórsson and other selected documents relevant to our protagonist. It remains to thank Professor Jón Viðar Sigurðsson and the series editors for accepting the present volume in the series The Northern World, Marcella Mulder at Brill for valuable assistance and the anonymous reader for encouraging comments. Our thanks also go to Mikael M. Karlsson, University of Iceland, and Christian Etheridge, for help with the revisions and translation of the texts. Further thanks go to Guðrún Nordal, Sigurður Stefán Jónsson and the Institute of Árni Magnússon for Icelandic Studies, Reykjavik, and to Anne Mette Hansen, The Arnamagnæan Institute, Copenhagen, for help in providing the permission to use the illustrative material. We would also like to thank Tiffany N. White for correcting our uncouth English, and Zachary Melton for help with the index. Lastly, we wish to thank the School of Skálholt and the Centre for Medieval Studies at the University of Iceland for accommodating and hosting the original conference.

pa rt 1 Educational and Cultural Context

∵

chapter 1

Canon, Dominican and Brother: The Life and Times of Jón Halldórsson in Bergen Christian Etheridge Jón Halldórsson, Bishop of Skálholt (1322–​39), was one of the most influential and learned ecclesiastics resident in Iceland during the first half of the 14th century.1 At various times in his rich and varied career he was a scholar at the universities of Paris and Bologna, a canon of Christ Church Cathedral in the city of Bergen, a Dominican friar, the Bishop of Skálholt in Iceland and finally, brother to one of the most powerful men in Norway. Jón was one of the most important products of the fertile intertwining between members of the learned environments of Iceland and Norway in the late 13th and the early 14th centuries. This period was one of the most fruitful eras for both Icelandic and Norwegian manuscript production, when many of the greatest works of medieval literature, law, science and theology were created.2 Jón Halldórsson’s life spanned the very apex of this creative period, and it is to him and his works that this current volume is dedicated. While the other chapters in this book focus on the achievements of his episcopal reign at the diocese of Skálholt, I instead choose here to focus on his time spent in Bergen. This chapter aims to understand his life in the city as a Dominican friar and cathedral canon, seeking to situate him in the literary and learned milieu of Bergen of his day. 1

Sources for the Life of Jón Halldórsson

The main source for the life of Jón Halldórsson is to be found in the manuscript Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am 657 a-​b, dating from c.1350. This manuscript contains his vita, Jóns þáttr biskups Halldórssonar, as well as a series of exempla associated with him.3 Another important 1 I would like to thank Åslaug Ommundsen, Gunnar Harðarson, Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen and Marteinn H. Sigurðsson for their advice and comments during the writing of this chapter; all errors are my own. 2 For an overview see Johansson, “The Hauksbók,” 131–​46. 3 This vita is most recently edited in Biskupa sögur III, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 445–​56, previous editions are found in Biskupa sögur, ed. Jón Sigurðsson, 2:221–​30 and Islendzk

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_003

8 Etheridge source for his life is Laurentius saga biskups, the vita of his contemporary Laurentius Kálfsson, Bishop of Hólar (1324–​31). Further sources are letters and other material found in the Icelandic and Norwegian archival sources collected in the Diplomatarium Islandicum and Diplomatarium Norvegicum series.4 There have been few works of analysis on the life of Jón Halldórsson, the most detailed exposition to date being that of Marteinn H. Sigurðsson.5 2

The City of Bergen

Bergen was one of the most important cities in medieval Scandinavia and had a thriving intellectual and cultural life.6 It was traditionally said to have been founded in 1070 by King Óláfr iii Haraldsson (r. 1066–​93) who is supposed to have also laid the foundations of Christ Church Cathedral on the top of the hill on the rocky outcrop of Holmen.7 His grandson King Eysteinn i Magnússon (r. 1103–​23) then moved the royal residence, and therefore the regal seat of Norwegian power, close to the cathedral. Throughout the Middle Ages, Holmen served as the center of ecclesiastical and temporal power in Bergen, and together with the archiepiscopal city of Nidaros (modern day Trondheim), dominated the Norwegian realm, until King Hákon v Magnússon (r. 1299–​1319) moved the royal residence to Oslo during his reign. The archbishop was not a permanent resident of Bergen but had his palace on the Nordnes peninsula across the bay from the main seat of power at Holmen.8 At the time of Jón’s probable birth in the late 13th century, Holmen was dominated by Christ Church Cathedral which was surrounded by ecclesiastical buildings Æventyri, ed. Gering, 1:84–​94. For the manuscript tradition of Jóns þáttr biskups Halldórssonar see Biskupa sögur III, cxi–​cxiv. For the English translation see Appendix 1: The Account of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (Jón’s þáttr) in this volume. 4 Lárentíus Saga is edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir in Biskupa sögur III; and the Icelandic annals by Gustav Storm in Islandske Annaler indtil 1578. 5 See Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “The Life and Literary Legacy of Jón Halldórsson.” Other works that reference Jón’s life are Biskupa sögur III, cii–​cxiv; Islendzk Æventyri, 1:v–​xxii; Sigurdson, The Church in Fourteenth-​Century Iceland, 42–​47; Hughes, “Klári saga as an Indigenous Romance,” 137–​38 and Astås, Et bibelverk fra middelalderen, 56. 6 For previous scholarly work on Bergen as a cultural and intellectual centre see Tveitane, “Bøker og litteratur i Bergen”; Knut Helle, Bergen bys historie, vol. 1; Mundal, “Byen som litterært sentrum” and also Mundal, “Sagaskrivarane og Bergen.” 7 Bagge, From Viking Stronghold to Christian Kingdom, 124. 8 Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 174.

Canon, Dominican and Brother

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such as the residences of the bishop of Bergen, the cathedral canons as well as the cathedral school. Next to the cathedral lay the royal palace known as Håkonshallen, the most imposing lay edifice of its day in Scandinavia. It was built during the reign of the powerful King Hákon iv Hákonarson (r.1217–​63) and influenced in its design by Westminster Palace in London.9 The great hall was encircled by buildings connected with the monarchy’s functions as well as the magnificent royal Chapel of the Apostles, itself modelled on Sainte-​ Chapelle in Paris. Down the hill from the cathedral and royal complex was the Dominican friary that played such a large part in the life of Jón Halldórsson. Following east from Holmen was the main commercial part of the city clustered around the harbor of Bryggen, which contained Bergen’s hospitals and some of the most important churches of the city including St Mary and the Cross Church. Close to the east gates of the city lay the Franciscan friary and the Benedictine nunnery of Nonneseter. Heading west and onto the beginning of the southern peninsula of Bergen, Nordnes, was the house of the Augustinian Canons of St John. Standing high above the city and dominating the hill of Nordnes was the great Benedictine monastery of Munkeliv and below it, by the waterfront, was the archbishop’s palace facing Holmen. Bergen was a teeming metropolis by 13th century Scandinavian standards and contained possibly 10,000 souls, where the streets would echo to the sound of many Old Norse dialects, including Icelandic, Faeroese, and Norn, but also the languages of Gaelic, Scots, English, Low German, Swedish, Danish, Dutch, and Latin.10 One of the greatest influences on the language of the population of Bergen was from Middle Low German, which started to impact the Bergen dialect from the late 13th century onwards. This was due to the dominance of the German merchants of the Hanseatic League who became based in the Bryggen area of the city.11 The influence of these loan words can be seen in the written language of the Chivalric romance, Clári saga, composed by Jón Halldórsson.12

9 10 11 12

For comparisons between Håkonshallen and other contemporary palaces see Opačić, “Fit for a King.” For more on the layout of medieval Bergen see Hommedal, “Monks, Nuns, Canons and Friars in Medieval Bergen,” 614; see also Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 124. On the influence of Middle Low German in Bergen see Kalinke, “Clári saga: A Case of Low German Infiltration,” 24–​25. On the influence of Middle Low German in the works of Jón Halldórsson see Kalinke, “Clári saga,” 11–​23 and also Hughes, “Klári saga,” 144–​46.

10 Etheridge 3

The Early Life of Jón in Bergen

According to the sources mentioned above Jón Halldórsson was born sometime in the late 13th century and entered the Dominican friary in Bergen as a child before leaving to study abroad in Paris and Bologna. These sources do not mention the date of his birth, neither do they mention the location of his birth. In fact, the first clear date we have is the 19th of February 1310, when he is involved in a law case in his function as a canon of Bergen.13 One clue to the birthdate of Jón that has been grasped by Hugo Gering and Marteinn H. Sigurðsson comes from an incidence in Jóns þáttr, where the vita states that he returns to Bergen in 1338 just before having a vision of his own death. In this vision he is once again among the brothers in the Dominican friary in Bergen preaching a sermon. Suddenly Jón is guided up to the choir loft by Archbishop Eilífr Árnason Kortin (1309–​32), his consecration father, helping him under one arm and King Magnús vi Hákonarson (r.1257–​80), under the other. In the vision Jón then turns and recognizes both of them.14 From this Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, following Gering, emphasizes that Jón would have had to have been of an age to have been able to remember the king personally, so his birth would have most likely occurred sometime between 1270 and 1275, probably closer to the former.15 The appearance of Archbishop Eilífr in this vision as Jón’s consecration father is self-​explanatory, but that of King Magnús vi is not. Jón was not consecrated during his reign but instead during the minority of King Magnús vii Eiríksson (r.1319–​1343), who came of age during Jón’s episcopal career and was still alive at the time of the bishop of Skálholt’s death. Due to Magnús vii’s young age at the beginning of his reign and Jóns subsequent career in Iceland, the two would have had few chances to meet. The two sons of King Magnús vi: King Eiríkr ii Magnússon (r. 1280–​99) and King Hákon v Magnússon would have been better known to Jón personally, especially the latter as he was king while Jón was a canon at Christ Church. King Magnús vi was also a notable supporter and benefactor of the Franciscan Order rather than the Dominicans. The Franciscan friary of St Olaf in Bergen was founded in 1248 and was the largest and most important of the Order’s houses in Norway, with its own school and lector.16 According to the 13 14 15 16

Diplomatarium Norvegicum (hereinafter dn) 1:126. Edited in Biskupa sögur III, 449, translation in Appendix 1: The Account of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (Jón’s þáttr), 253. See Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “The Life,” 30 referring to Islendzk Æventyri, ii:vi. On the Bergen Franciscans see Hommedal, “Monks, Nuns, Canons and Friars,” 625.

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14th century Lanercost Chronicle the King loved the Franciscan Order and attended some of the lectures in theology that were held at the friary school. Furthermore, the Lanercost Chronicle explains that on the 16th of July 1268, the day of the canonization of St Francis, Magnús vi’s son Eiríkr was born as a misshapen unhealthy child. The baby was taken to the altar of the Franciscan friary church by his father during mass and at the end of the service he had miraculously turned into a lovely crying healthy boy. After this miracle Magnús vi showed great favor to the Franciscans and it was in their church that he set up his own mausoleum in 1280.17 No such direct royal favor from Magnús vi was shown to the Dominican Order, although during his reign the Dominican bishop Narfi (1278–​1304) was consecrated in Bergen. It would seem then that the connection that Jón had to King Magnús vi was personal, as suggested by Marteinn H. Sigurðsson.18 Judging by his patronymic, Jón’s father was an unknown man named Halldór. His mother appears in an entry in the Flateyjarannáll for 1323 that mentions that Bishop Jón, the son of Freygerðr, arrived in Iceland.19 Gering argues that his father Halldór must have died when Jón was young for only widow’s sons in the sagas are named after their mother’s name.20 Marteinn H. Sigurðsson notes that the statements that Jón entered the Bergen friary early in childhood noted at the beginning and end of Jóns þáttr do not contradict the fact of Freygerðr being a widow.21 Shaun F.D. Hughes mentions that Freygerðr is an Icelandic name and not Norwegian.22 Hughes reckons that Halldór, by contrast, could be an Icelandic or a Norwegian name.23 The last member of Jón’s family that is known of is his brother Finnr (c.1260–​1330) who also followed a clerical path and became one of the most powerful ecclesiastics in the realm, intimately connected to the royal court.24 Hughes favors the idea of an Icelandic background for Jón and believes that previous scholarship

17

For King Magnús vi and the Franciscan Order see Helle, Bergen bys historie, 628; The Chronicle of Lanercost, 21–22; see also Gunnar Harðarson, “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 43. 18 For this see Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “The Life,” 31. 19 Islandske Annaler, 395. 20 Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “The Life,” 31, Islendzk Æventyri, 2:vii n.3 and Islandske Annaler, 395. 21 Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “The Life,” 31. 22 Hughes, “Klári saga,” 137–​38. 23 Hughes, “Klári saga,” 138. 24 Islendzk Æventyri, 2:vii, Finnr was old and ill in 1324 and died in 1330, therefore Marteinn H. Sigurðsson says that he is the elder brother and probably born before 1260, see Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “The Life,” 30–​31.

12 Etheridge has focused on a Norwegian origin because of the policy of the archdiocese in Nidaros in appointing Norwegians to ecclesiastical positions of power in Iceland.25 Following from this Hughes then postulates the following scenario: one or possibly both of Jón’s parents are Icelandic, they travel to Bergen, possibly for trade and there they die of unknown causes. Their children are then received as oblates into the Dominican Order at their friary of St Olaf on Holmen.26 Before exploring further Hughes’ hypothesis I would like to expand further on the Dominican Order and their role in Bergen. 4

The Dominican Friary in Bergen

The Dominican Order set up their friary in Bergen sometime before 1241 during the reign of King Hákon iv Hákonarson; it was the largest of their houses in Norway.27 From the beginning the Order had connections with the Norwegian monarchy. Hákon iv had a Dominican friar, Simon, as personal confessor and counsellor. His daughter Princess Kristín (1234–​62) was sent to Castile in 1258 accompanied by the Dominican Friar Símon and Pétr the Dominican Bishop of Hamar (1253–​60). There she was to marry Philip of Castile (1231–​74), who had himself learnt theology under the great Dominican teacher, Albertus Magnus (†1280) in Paris.28 Another connection to the monarchy is in 1316 when the Dominicans in their Bruges friary dedicated an altar to St Olaf and asked for details on his miracles and life from King Hákon v.29 As mentioned previously, Bishop Narfi of Bergen was a Dominican and friends with King Magnús vi who had wanted him elected as bishop. Narfi was also close to King Eiríkr ii and maybe also a member of his council.30 The majority of exempla in Old Norse can be traced to the Dominicans in Bergen and the learned circle of King Hákon v.31 Dominican authors are also well represented in medieval book collections throughout Scandinavia. The friary in Bergen had a studia solemnia or advanced school, with two lectores in the 1320s, one more than was required; this would mean more than

25 26 27 28 29 30 31

Hughes, “Klári saga,” 137, n.8 and see Astås, Et bibelverk fra middelalderen, 56. Hughes, “Klári saga,” 138. For more on the Icelandic heritage of Jón Halldórsson see the chapter by Gottskálk Jensson in this volume. Jakobsen, “The Dominican Convents of Medieval Norway.” For Simon and Peter see Vidas, The Christina Psalter, 24. Jakobsen, “The Dominican Convents of Medieval Norway.” See Helle, Bergen bys historie, 601. For these exempla see Astås, Et bibelverk fra middelalderen, 16–​17.

Canon, Dominican and Brother

13

the minimum of twelve friars at the friary.32 The first lector we know of was from 1291, the Danish Friar Torstein, who was appointed from the friary of St Catherine’s in Ribe. The lector’s duties were to take on novices and be responsible for the education of the brothers. Brothers from smaller Dominican friaries were sent to Bergen to learn theology and philosophy.33 The Dominican school was also open for other clerics outside of the order. In spite of this, relations between the Dominican Order and the secular clergy, especially those of the cathedrals, were sometimes troubled. For the secular clergy of a diocese, the Dominicans were often seen as troublesome as they were free of any obligation to the seculars due to papal decree. For the Dominicans, the secular clergy were seen as in need of reform. Dominican literature often regarded the priesthood as corrupted by the sins of the world. The Dominican Hugh of St Cher (c.1200–​1263) said that bad bishops made their relatives into equally bad canons, while the Dominican Etienne de Bourbon (c.1190–​1261) said that when bishops came to visit their chapter it could be compared to a hen with a brood of chickens, the chickens being the canons and all nephews of the bishop, or hen.34 These tensions between the Dominican Order and the secular clergy were particularly bad in Bergen. The most famous example of these tensions comes from the first decade after the Dominicans had founded their friary on Holmen. On the 13th August 1247, the Papal Legate William of Sabina (c.1184–​1251) was summoned to settle a dispute between the friary and the cathedral chapter.35 A number of privies had been placed by the canons on a slope above the friary. The effluent from the privies then ran down the hill towards the friar’s church. The canons had placed the privies there in an effort to put off the population of Bergen from visiting the popular Dominicans. Although the offending privies were removed, this did not prove to be the end of the matter. On the 28th of July 1290, the friary complained to King Eiríkr ii about the canons who, despite the mediations of Bishop Narfi, forbid lay people and clergy to have any contact with the Dominicans.36 The Dominicans were forbidden lodging, food or drink, or to beg for alms within the diocese of Bergen. Local parish priests in the diocese were threatened with excommunication and loss of office by the chapter if they allowed this to happen. It was into this turbulent environment that Jón entered the Bergen friary. 32 33 34 35 36

Hommedal, “Monks, Nuns, Canons and Friars,” 624. Jakobsen, “The Dominican Convents of Medieval Norway.” These examples are found in Bennett, The Early Dominicans, 141. Edited in dn, 2:7. Edited in dn, 2:28.

14 Etheridge Jóns þáttr mentions in three passages that Jón entered the Dominican friary in Bergen when quite young. Firstly “after becoming a preacher in the Kingdom of Norway, he went, very young, to study, all the way to Paris and later to Bologna”37 then “When Bishop Jón arrived in Norway, he resided in Bergen for the winter at the preachers’ friary he had first entered already in childhood”38 and finally “His body was buried with full honor in the church of the same friary, the one he had first entered and later served in under the preachers’ rule.”39 The first passage indicates that he became a preacher, or Dominican, in Norway before studying abroad. The second passage says that he had entered the Bergen friary when a child. The final passage says he entered the church of the friary and later served under the Dominican Rule. We shall look further at these passages later to find out more about Jón’s entry into the order. Previous scholars, mentioned above, have indicated that Jón was either orphaned, or he was entered into the Bergen friary and the Dominican Order by his parents at the normal age of an oblate of ten years old and then stayed there before going off to study abroad. Research on the social background of members of the Dominican Order in Denmark conducted by Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen finds that the friars mostly came from the lower aristocracy or from high-​class burgher families. This ties in with other research on the social background of Dominicans.40 In this case it would be likely that Jón, his father Halldór, mother Freygerðr and brother Finnr were all part of a well-​off family. When Jón entered the Dominican Order, it seems likely that Freygerðr was alive and widowed and that his brother, who was possibly ten years older, had already begun his clerical career. Contrary to the scenario suggested above by Hughes, no source points to Finnr ever having been a member of the Dominican Order. So, by following the sources so far, we can place Jón as a young child with his family at the doors of the Dominican friary in Bergen, down the hill from the great cathedral at Christ Church and the royal complex surrounding Håkonshallen, but as yet we do not know how old the boy is. In 1228 the Dominican Order laid down the rule that novices must be at least eighteen when admitted. The minimum age of eighteen was an explicit

37 38 39 40

Edited in Biskupa sögur III, 445, translation in Appendix 1: The Account of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (Jón’s þáttr), 293. Edited in Biskupa sögur III, 454, translation in Appendix 1: The Account of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (Jón’s þáttr), 298. Edited in Biskupa sögur III, 456, translation in Appendix 1: The Account of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (Jón’s þáttr), 300. See Jakobsen, “Prædikebrødrenes samfundsrolle i middelalderens Danmark,” 175–​78.

Canon, Dominican and Brother

15

renunciation of the practice of receiving child oblates. This age limit was lowered in 1265 to the age of fifteen only if the provincial prior granted dispensation. These rules were sometimes broken and were often punished.41 However, around 1325, more aggressive forms of recruitment started to be used by the Dominican Order to compensate for a drop in the number of recruits and so younger boys started to appear in the friaries.42 The Order then started to accept oblates formally under the age of fifteen, which put them under the age that canon law considered a person to have reached the age of consent.43 By the 15th century recruits were sometimes found to be as young as ten or eleven.44 Although these were the ages of recruits, younger boys could also have associations with Dominican friaries. In general, boys were taught for free at the friaries if they promised to join the Dominican Order later, otherwise the parents would be obliged to pay for their tuition.45 The Order began providing for those boys who were too young to become novices by sending them to grammar schools which in many cases the Dominicans conducted. These schools were legally separate from the friary schools but often staffed by friars who sometimes offered board to boys whose families had indicated an intention that their sons should join the order.46 There is some evidence from England that Dominicans were teaching young boys who were not in the Order.47 The general chapter in 1251 determined that provincial priors would ensure that extern grammar-​school boys attended sermons and had their confessions heard. The 1264 general chapter suggested that these boys would find a certain little book useful in their studies. This is most likely the De instructione puerorum by the Dominican William of Tournai (fl.1264–​93). This book contained useful passages from the lives of noteworthy saints that were to act as an inspiration for the boys. The De instructione puerorum states that Dominican schoolmasters functioned in loco parentis and that, accordingly, they must be of good moral character. The book accordingly teaches on faith, morals and scientia. Faith was taught using the teachings of Augustine, among others. Moral instruction taught obedience, chastity, and poverty, while scientia taught the wisdom of the saints. This teaching

41 These rules are detailed in Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 83–​84. 42 Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 96. 43 Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 95. 44 Orme, Medieval Schools, 260–​61. 45 For further on Dominican oblates see Hinnebusch, The History of the Dominican Order, 290–​99. 46 Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 86. 47 Orme, Medieval Schools, 265.

16 Etheridge was supplemented with prayer, instruction, and study.48 Dominican grammar schools could therefore teach, instruct, and counsel young souls with the possibility of mentoring future friars.49 When Jón entered the Dominican friary in Bergen for the first time, he would therefore have attended the grammar school and would not have officially entered the Order at that time as he was too young. His mother could have promised him to the Dominicans and they would have thus paid for his room and board. Jón would certainly have been taught the moral values of the Dominican Order through the De instructione puerorum as well as received instruction in Latin grammar. The young Jón Halldórsson was obviously a highly intelligent boy and this would have been picked up by his Dominican tutors, and the possibility of his further education would undoubtably have been discussed. 5

Jón Halldórsson’s University Career

Recruits entering the Dominican Order at fifteen or older had to have the basics of Latin when they arrived. The first year upon arrival was spent learning the rule of the Order and attending the liturgy. Later they studied practical theology and advanced Latin grammar.50 At a general meeting of the Order in Genoa in 1305 fixed dates were put on the structure of the stages of Dominican learning. Only the brightest of the friars would progress through all the stages of learning and end up studying at one of the Dominican studia generalia in Paris, Bologna, Cologne, Oxford or Montpellier.51 The prospective friar would first spend two years in the Order, followed by three years studying logic, two years studying natural philosophy, two years studying the Sentences, and finally they would be allowed to study at a studium generale.52 The minimum age for a Dominican at a studium generale would therefore be around twenty-​four. The aim of the Dominican studia was to train teachers. Study at a studium generale such as St Jacques in Paris would typically be for three years followed by a return to the home province at the end of that time

48

The general chapters of 1251 and 1261 and the De instructione puerorum are discussed in Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 87–​91. 49 Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 94. 50 Orme, Medieval Schools, 261. 51 Biskupa sögur III, ciii. 52 Orme, Medieval Schools, 262; for further information on Dominican education see Hinnebusch, The History of the Dominican Order, 37–​98.

Canon, Dominican and Brother

17

to teach.53 How then does this fit in to what we know about the life of Jón and his studies? Interpreting the passage from Jóns þáttr above, Hughes says that Jón went to study at the Dominican run universities in Paris and Bologna.54 Hughes is inferring that either the Dominicans ran the Universities of Paris and Bologna or is referring to the Dominican’s studia generalia in these places. These are not the same institutions. If Jón was a friar, as Hughes states, then he would actually have studied at the Dominican studia of St Jacques in Paris and San Domenico in Bologna. Now we must be clear to differentiate between the Dominican studia where the friars would study on the one hand, and the universities, where the Dominicans would lecture. The record of the Acta Capituli Provincialis from 1275–​80 records Dominican friars being moved between the studia generalia of Paris, Oxford, and Cologne. Some of the examples listed refer to Scandinavian Dominicans from their province of Dacia; “Revocamus de studio parisiensi fratrem Andream, Revocamus de studio oxoniensi fratrem Nicholaum Swir, Ad studium coloniense assignamus fratrem N (? Nicholaum) dictum Porsae.”55 This shows that a Friar Andreas was being moved from St Jacques, a Friar Nicholas Swir moved from Oxford and a Friar Nicholas Porsae moved to Cologne. Looking at the above-​mentioned pattern of the Dominican system of learning, then Jón would have arrived in the studium of St Jacques in Paris sometime in his mid-​twenties where he would have stayed for around three years followed by a time at the studium of San Domenico in Bologna before returning to Bergen. However, this does not fit in with what is described in Jóns þáttr at all. To begin with, Jóns þáttr states that Jón left Norway very young to study at studium and returned to Norway most learned by the time he was fullkominn at aldri.56 This passage does not indicate a man arriving in Paris in his mid-​ twenties at all. This is corroborated by a further passage. “Shortly after he arrived in Paris, he entered the most illustrious school there was. He was in his youth at the time and of little understanding compared to later.”57 These passages indicate a youth, closer to the age of fourteen, the usual age of attending a university, than a man in his twenties. It is important to note that the

53 Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 382. 54 Hughes, “Klári saga,” 137. 55 Edited in Kirkehistoriske samlinger, 1:559–​62; see also Bagge, “Nordic students at foreign Universities,” 10. 56 Edited in Biskupa sögur III, 445, translation in Appendix 1: The Account of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (Jón’s þáttr), 293. 57 Biskupa sögur III, 445, Appendix 1, 293.

18 Etheridge first story of Jón when he is in Paris has him opening a book and by reading a chapter while the master is away, summons a storm. The master returns and quickly reads another chapter therefore cancelling out the storm. Jón reflects on this, “ ‘One can infer from events such as these,’ said the bishop, ‘how much art endures in books although the world grows old’.”58 Events such as these are reflective of books of power and sorcery such as were associated with legends of figures such as Gerbert of Aurillac, Michael Scot, Albertus Magnus and in an Icelandic context, Sæmundr Sigfússon.59 These are books connected with natural philosophy, alchemy, astronomy, or astrology. These are all subjects associated with the Faculty of Arts. Therefore, in this story, Jón is being taught at this faculty at the University of Paris and not learning theology at the Dominican studium of St Jacques. Friars were not allowed by their order to study in the arts faculty.60 At this stage in his life therefore Jón is not in fact a Dominican at all and is in instead a student. It seems most likely, then, that Jón travelled abroad to study at the University of Paris, probably at the age of fourteen. We can assume due to his theological learning that Jón continued to learn theology at Paris although he is never referred to in the sources as magister. Jón then travelled to the University of Bologna to study what we can assume would be Roman and canon law before returning to Bergen. Reidar Astås points out that he does not appear on the memorial protocol from Bologna during 1285–​1300, so it therefore makes it difficult to estimate how long he was away.61 It is certainly possible to make a guess. A Bachelor of Arts would take four years, with the first two years involving listening to lectures and attending disputations, with the next two years also including participating in disputations under the supervision of a master.62 To become a Master of Arts or magister would then take a further two years. None of the sources on Jón Halldórsson give him the title of magister, however this does not exclude him having this title. For example, none of the Norwegian sources point to Bishop Árni Sigurðsson of Bergen (1305–​14) having 58 59 60 61

62

Biskupa sögur III, 447, Appendix 1, in this volume, 294. On these legends see Halldór Hermannsson, Sæmund Sigfússon and the Oddaverjar. Asztalos, “The Faculty of Theology,” 416. Jóns þáttr, Laurentius saga and Lögmannsannáll all agree Jón studied a long time in Paris and Bologna, at studium. These are published in Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “The Life,” 31–​32; Biskupa sögur III, 445; Islandske Annaler, 267; for the Bologna protocol see Acta nationis Germanicae universitatis Bononiensis and also Astås, Et bibelverk fra middelalderen, 56. Astås rightly points out that there are other scholars who were known to have been in Bologna during this time and are not recorded in the protocol. On the structure of the bachelor and master degrees in medieval universities see Pedersen, The First Universities, 245.

Canon, Dominican and Brother

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the title of magister and so historians had doubted that he studied abroad. French sources published by Jules Viard in 1940 however pointed out a certain Magister Arnaldus de Norweghia canonicus Bergensis, Scolaris Aurelianensis, who with his brother Auðfinnr, received sixty Parisian livres for a gyrfalcon that he had given to King Philip iv of France (r.1285–​1314), therefore confirming Árni as a magister at the University of Orléans.63 Bishop Hákon Erlingsson of Bergen (1330–​42), is likewise only noted as a meistari or magister in one of the Icelandic annals but in no other source.64 Jón Halldórsson’s later career and extensive authorship show he was a learned scholar in both theology and law and so he could well have taken further learning in both these subjects. The period of training for a doctorate in theology was long; sixteen years for seculars in Paris. After seven years it was possible to start lecturing on Peter Lombard’s Sentences. The minimum age for graduating as a Master of Theology was thirty-​five.65 The doctorate in law would take at least six years for canon law or seven to eight for civil law. Time spent in the study of one law would reduce time needed to graduate in the other and it was possible to be a doctor of both canon and civil Law (Doctor utriusque iuris) in ten years.66 If Jón had become a magister he would have been around twenty and so this would have happened around 1290. His further university career would have depended on how far he went with the higher subjects. A doctor in both laws was rare, while a doctor in both theology and law even rarer.67 However, twenty further years at university would not be out of the question and would take us to around the year 1310.68 While Jón was in Paris and Bologna he would have met, known and maybe have been taught by other Scandinavian scholars. The decades preceding 1300 and after produced some notable Scandinavian scholars at foreign universities who wrote treatises on a number of subjects. Many of them were Danes

63 64 65 66 67 68

See Johnsen, “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene Arne og Audfinn?,” 90. On the debate concerning the education of Bishop Árni, the relevant passage is edited in Viard, Les Jornaux au Trésor de Philippe IV le bel, 374. Islandske Annaler, 267. On the structure of theological degrees see Asztalos, “The Faculty of Theology,” 420. On the structure of law degrees see Rashdall, The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages, 1:221–​22. For this see Fowler, The Life and Times of John Trevisa, 80–​82. This is in accordance with Astås who reckoned Jón studied abroad in the 1290s–​1300 and returned to Bergen where he became a canon in 1310, see Astås, Et bibelverk fra middelalderen, 208.

20 Etheridge and are referred to in the sources as de Dacia (of/​from Denmark).69 A notable scholar was Johannes de Dacia (fl.1280–​1305) who was at the University of Paris and wrote on grammar, on dialectic and on the branches of human knowledge.70 Another scholar Simon de Dacia (fl.1280s), was also at the University of Paris and wrote on grammar and computus.71 Martinus de Dacia (†1304) was at the University of Paris until 1287 when he became chancellor to King Erik vi Menved of Denmark (r.1286–​1319). He returned to Paris from c.1300 to his death in 1304. Martinus wrote several influential treatises on grammar and dialectic.72 Finally Petrus Philomena de Dacia (fl.1292–​1303) was at the universities of Bologna and Paris and wrote extensively on mathematics, geometry, astronomy, computus and astronomical instruments.73 As well as these notable Danish scholars we also know of several Norwegians such as Bjarni Loðinsson (†1311) who was a magister at the University of Paris at least from 1283, and later studied for many years at the University of Bologna where he became a doctor in Roman Law in 1292.74 He was recorded as doctor/​professor juris civilis in 1293 and again in 1295.75 He later became a Baron and chancellor to King Eiríkr ii. Another notable Norwegian scholar, Bjarni Auðunsson (†1320), was also studying at the University of Bologna in the year 1292, and he later became advisor, treasurer and guardian of the royal seal for King Hákon v.76 During the period of Jón’s stay abroad we know of another four Norwegian students at the University of Bologna and seven in the University of Paris.77 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77

The epithet de Dacia c.1300 would refer either to someone from the kingdom of Denmark or a Dominican from the Dominican province of Dacia which included all of Scandinavia and northern Estonia. See Pedersen, “Petrus Philomena de Dacia,” 6. For his career see Ebbesen, “Johannes de Dacia”; his works are edited in Johannis Daci Opera. For Simon de Dacia see Ebbesen, “Simon de Dacia”; his works are edited in Simonis Daci Opera. On the life and career of Martinus de Dacia see Ebbesen “Martinus de Dacia”; his works are edited in Martini de Dacia Opera. There is a growing amount of scholarship on Petrus de Dacia. See Såby-​Pedersen, “Petrus Philomena de Dacia,” and Pedersen, “Petrus Philomena de Dacia”. His works are edited in Petri Philomenae de Dacia et Petri de S. Audomaro opera quadrivialia. For Bjarni Loðinsson see Bagge, “Norge,” 143 and Sällström, Bologna och Norden, 151. This is edited in dn, 17:882, and Regesta Norvegica (hereinafter rn) 2:657. See Sällström, Bologna och Norden, 160, and edited in rn, 2:731, and rn, 2:790. For Bjarni Auðunsson see Bagge, “Norge,” 144 and edited in dn, 16:2. These Norwegian students in the time of Jón Halldórsson are listed below (numbers in parenthesis are from Bagge, “Norge,” 143–​47). In Bologna we find Magister Andreas, 1282–​ 1300 (22), Bartholomeus Piper, 1287 (27), Bjarni Auðunsson, 1292 (31), Þorkell Gunnarsson Mötul, 1292–​1293 (30), Bjarni Loðinsson, 1292, 1293, 1295 (20) and Þorberg, 1296–​1299 (34). In Paris we find Dominus Olawus, 1284 (24), Dominus Andreas Stazos, 1287 (26), Fr. Andreas, 1291 (48), Magister Árni Sigurðsson, 1299 (37), Auðfinnr Sigurðsson, 1299 (38),

Canon, Dominican and Brother

21

Jón Halldórsson would have certainly been in learned company with some of his fellow Scandinavians while at Paris and Bologna. He certainly obtained a good command of Latin and was comfortable with a wide range of exempla and proverbs in his writing. 6

Who Sponsored Jón to Study at University?

A great majority of Norwegian students studying abroad were in some way or another connected to the cathedral chapters. Most of these were bishops, and canons, while others held lower posts in the chapter, were in the bishop’s service or were parish priests in the episcopal city.78 Indeed between 1305–​ 69 all Norwegian bishops were university educated. A letter from the chapter in Bergen on the 10th April 1309 states that three of its twelve canons were studying abroad, two in France and one in England.79 Often a university education was acquired by someone who was already a canon. The benefices with the canonry would then fund the university education.80 Bagge estimates half of all canons would have had a university education.81 For example, Páll Bárðarson, canon in Bergen from 1309 became a student at the University of Orléans with support from the bishop and cathedral chapter during 1320–​26 where he became a Doctor utriusque iuris.82 After a varied career on his return he finally became Archbishop from 1333–​46.83 Canons or lay scholars did not necessarily go abroad and spend all their time at university; they would often return to Norway and then later go back to university again. If we look at the career of Jón it is obvious that someone paid for him to study abroad. If he did not attend one of the Dominican studia then he was at a university. If he was at a university then it seems likely that the bishop or chapter paid for him to study abroad. It is important to note that during the time of Jón’s travel to Paris, the bishop of Bergen was the Dominican Narfi (1278–​1304). Narfi is an important figure here for Jón and would have known about him at the friary school; he could have acted as a bridge between the Dominicans and

Magister Óblauðr Végarðsson, 1299–​1300 (33), and Dominus Petrus de Nidroso, 1299–​ 1300 (39). 78 See Bagge, “Nordic students at foreign Universities,” 8. 79 Bagge, “Nordic students at foreign Universities,” 9, this letter is edited in dn, 6:72. 80 Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 240. 81 Bagge, “Nordic students at foreign Universities,” 8–​9. 82 Edited in dn, 1:123. 83 Bagge, “Norge,” 145.

22 Etheridge the cathedral chapter of Bergen and secured funds for his study. I believe that we have to see him as the most likely benefactor of Jón when he is studying abroad. Jón returned from studying abroad to Bergen and the next sources for his life see him in the cathedral chapter at Christ Church. 7

Jón Returns to Bergen

Jón Halldórsson returned to Norway fullkominn at alldri (at a mature age), Astås notes here that he had passed over the fourth of the ages of man and so he speculated that Jón was over twenty-​eight years old and was returning just as Hákon v ascended to the throne in 1299.84 The first record we have of Jón’s return however is from 1310 when he is documented as a canon in the cathedral chapter of Christ Church. Until Astås pointed it out, it had been long overlooked by previous scholarship that there was an inherent contradiction in the traditional interpretation of Jón Halldórsson being first a Dominican and then a secular cleric followed by being a Dominican again. If Jón was a canon at Christ Church in Bergen, he could not at the same time be a Dominican in the Bergen friary. Therefore, Astås concluded that Jón could not have been both and that Jón Halldórsson the canon could not be the same person as Jón Halldórsson the Dominican and that therefore there must have been two Jón Halldórssons.85 This interpretation, however, is I believe due to a misreading of Jóns þáttr and to the circumstances that Jón is not a Dominican friar when he arrives back in Bergen but is in fact a student. Jóns þáttr itself is quite silent on Jón Halldórsson’s time in Bergen until the last year of his life when it identifies Jón as a Dominican friar, as well as bishop of Skálholt. There is certainly no mention in Jóns þáttr about him being a canon in Bergen, however it does say that Bishop Hákon Erlingsson was his vígslubróðir.86 This means consecration brother and would point to the fact that they were both consecrated together. Jón was consecrated Bishop of Skálholt in 1322 and Hákon was consecrated Bishop of Bergen in 1332, therefore Jóns þáttr cannot be referring to these two events a decade apart. It must instead refer to the time when they were both consecrated into the chapter of Christ Church Cathedral. This would be an event that took place sometime 84 85 86

The ages of man are described in Stjórn, see Astås, An Old Norse Biblical Compilation, 17 and Stjórn: tekst etter håndskriftene, 26, 22ff. For this argument see Astås, An Old Norse Biblical Compilation, 56. Edited in Biskupa sögur III, 455, translated in Appendix 1: The Account of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (Jón’s þáttr), 299.

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before 19th February 1310. Spending over a decade together as canons would explain the close friendship of the two men that lasted until Jón’s death. Hákon Erlingsson might also have studied in Paris with Jón, followed by being a canon with him, therefore a lifetime friend who finally in the end attended his funeral.87 Following the trail of the documentary sources, it seems that the canon Jón Halldórsson disappears literally just before the Dominican bishop Jón Halldórsson appears. It seems very unlikely that Jón could have been a Dominican and a member of the secular clergy as the following case studies from the Apostolic penitentiary in Scandinavia show. On the 4th November 1469, an Oluf Pedersen made a complaint to the Apostolic penitentiary that he had been lured into entering the Dominican friary in Aarhus in Denmark by some friars. He said that the Dominican life was not for him and that he left when under the legal age of fourteen and instead was now a priest in another part of Denmark.88 Another case in Denmark occurred on the 15th October 1480 when a Jakob Mortensen complained, also to the Apostolic penitentiary, that he was not a member of the Dominican Order and so he could carry on his career as a parish priest. As a twelve-​year-​old he had been brought to the friary in Roskilde where he lived two months before leaving; he was dragged back there by the friars and whipped in punishment. He left again at the age of thirteen and went to Holbæk where he attended the Dominican school there before being caught again. He eventually left the Roskilde friary and became a priest.89 Finally, in 1524 two minors from the Västerås friary in Sweden, Peter Petersson and Petrus Olavi, also lodged a complaint to the Apostolic penitentiary. While they were still minors, some friars persuaded Peter and Petrus to enter the Västerås friary and take the vows of the Dominican Order against their will. Peter Petersson declared that he was not a professed friar and also for the right to be considered a layman with the right to marry. Petrus Olavi had been ordained to the priesthood and he petitioned that he was not bound to the Dominican Order so he could continue his ecclesiastical vocation as a parish priest.90 These cases show that one could not be a Dominican and a secular priest at the same time. It also shows that it was possible to have been taught in a Dominican friary while a youth and yet not be part of the Dominican Order 87 88 89 90

Although Hákon Erlingsson may also have studied in Orléans; for this argument see Johnsen, “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene Arne og Audfinn?” 96. For this petition see Salonen and Jakobsen, “Om den unge broder Jakobs flugt,” 29–​33. See Salonen and Jakobsen, “Om den unge broder Jakobs flugt,” 34. The Västerås petition is edited in Auctoritate Papae, 129–​30.

24 Etheridge in adult life. I therefore postulate that Jón was not a Dominican friar when he returned to Bergen. This of course does not mean that he did not still have strong positive connections to the Dominican Order, unlike the cases above, and continued to have them while in Bergen. We turn next to Christ Church Cathedral and the clerical environment into where Jón became a canon. 8

Christ Church Cathedral

Christ Church Cathedral in Bergen was completed and dedicated to Christ and also the Holy Trinity by 1163–​64 for the ceremonial crowning of King Magnús v Erlingsson (r.1164–​84).91 Christ Church was also the premier location for Norwegian royal marriage and burial. In 1170 the important relics of Saint Sunnifa were translated to Christ Church, making it a site of pilgrimage.92 Christ Church had twelve shrines, dedicated to saints Mary, Paul, Hallvarðr, Jacob, Lawrence, Mary (again), Sunnifa, Nicholas, Thomas, Catherine, the Brothers and the Cross.93 The bishop of Bergen, whose diocese covered a large part of western Norway, had his episcopal palace just to the east of the cathedral. There was a scriptorium connected to the cathedral and the first known book probably produced at Christ Church was the Norwegian Homily Book: Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am 619 4° dating from c.1200–​1225.94 There was also an associated cathedral school at Christ Church that first appears in the written record in 1319, with other schools in Bergen found at the Apostles Chapel, at the Dominican and Franciscan friaries and possibly attached to other religious houses in the city.95 Christ Church began to be extended and rebuilt in the Gothic style in the late 13th century and by 1308 Bishop Árni Sigurðsson (1305–​14), was even asking Pope Clement v (1305–​14) for experts in laying slate tiles, painting murals and making glass windows.96 It was still under repair in 1337 when the leaking roof was disturbing the worshipers.97 The construction work during this period was so intense, that sometimes bishops were consecrated outside the cathedral. We should therefore see the 91 92 93 94 95 96 97

On the foundation of Christ Church see Helle, “Bergenhus-​området i middelalderen,” 14–​15. For St Sunnifa and Bergen see Tryti, “Bergen som sentrum i bispedømmet,” 28. On the cathedral shrines see Helle, Bergen bys historie, 596–​97. For the cathedral scriptorium see Tveitane, “Bøker og litteratur i Bergen,” 99–​100, for the arguments on the creation of the Homily Book see Haugen and Ommundsen, Vår eldste bok. For the existence of these schools see Helle, Bergen bys historie, 626. See Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 273. On this see Helle, Bergen bys historie, 572.

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cathedral during Jón’s tenure as a canon as somewhat of a building site covered in scaffolding, noisy and teeming with masons, glaziers and painters. Certainly not the most conducive environment for quiet contemplation for the canons or the bishop. 9

The Bishops of Bergen

A medieval bishop’s duties were threefold. Firstly, Potestas ordinis, this being the power of ordination; to ordain priests, churches, altars, sacraments etc. Secondly, Potestas magisterii, this was the power of teaching and more fully to preach Christian learning to the population of the diocese and in theological terms to teach the priests and studying clerks or clergy. Finally, Potestas iurisdictionis, this was the power of jurisdiction and included church business such as economic management, law giving and cathedral business in special church affairs. These episcopal functions were carried out theoretically during an annual tour of the diocese. This could be in the company of up to thirty members of the bishop’s household and was carried out both on horseback and the bishop’s own ship, due to the geographical complications of the many mountains, fjords and islands that made up the diocese of Bergen.98 The bishops of Bergen during the life of Jón Halldórsson were Askatín, an English magister (1270–​77), the Dominican Narfi (1278–​1304), Árni Sigurðsson (1305–​ 14), Auðfinnr Sigurðsson (1314–​30) and Hákon Erlingsson (1332–​40). Of these bishops, the reign of Árni Sigurðsson coincided with the beginning of Jón Halldórsson’s tenure as canon. As mentioned previously Árni Sigurðsson studied canon law at the University of Orléans where he became a magister, his brother Auðfinnr also studied at the same university.99 Árni was a canon at Christ Church Cathedral from at least 1292 as he was sent with magister Bjarni Loðinsson as an envoy to the Scottish court in Berwick by King Eiríkr ii in that year.100 Árni served the Norwegian king and was also in contact with either King Philip iv of France or his court. King Hákon v, Queen Euphemia (r.1299–​1312) and Eiríkr’s widow Isabella Bruce (c. 1272–​1358) attended the consecration of Árni as bishop on 5th December 1305 in the Augustinian Abbey of St John the Baptist in Bergen, due to the aforementioned repairs to Christ Church Cathedral.101 The abbey 98 99 100 101

On the episcopal duties of Bergen’s bishops see Helle, Bergen bys historie, 593–​95. Johnsen, “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene Arne og Audfinn?” 95. Ibid, 93, the text is edited in dn, 19:377. Ibid, 93, this is edited in dn, 7:31.

26 Etheridge was home to twelve Augustinian regular canons and these are believed to have been a supplement to the secular canons of Christ Church.102 Bishop Árni continued serving the Crown and was with King Hákon v for the peace negotiations in Copenhagen 17th July 1309 with King Erik vi of Denmark.103 There is no evidence of conflict between Bishop Árni and the chapter of Bergen, unlike contemporary incidences in Nidaros and Stavanger at that time. This peaceful co-​existence also continued with his successors to the episcopal throne, his brother Auðfinnr Sigurðsson and Jón’s friend, Hákon Erlingsson.104 Árni was an able administrator and soon after becoming bishop he started the Registrum and also gave rules for the cathedral chapter.105 The Registrum of the Diocese of Bergen contains more than 500 documents and is the largest surviving ecclesiastical archive from medieval Norway.106 The so-​called library of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson from 1313/​14 can be found listed in the early 14th-​century manuscript Uppsala, Universitetsbiblioteket, uub C 564 and contained thirty-​six volumes.107 The booklist represents a high degree of learning on the part of Árni. It shows he owned learned volumes in both Latin and Old Norse and is a good example of the bilingual learning and scholarship in the learned circles of Bergen at this time.108 Árni owned works in grammar, logic and computus which would represent his learning in the Faculty of Arts. His works on theology and law would represent the further learning he would have acquired at Orleans once he had become a magister. The Old Norse works indicate book production happening in Bergen. Other elements of book production here can be seen on the 4th of August 1333 when the Papal nuncio Petrus Gervasii bought six skins of parchment for writing from a parchmenter in Bergen for four gros Tournois.109 The learned bishops of Bergen, such as 102 For the Augustinian canons in Bergen see Hommedal, “Monks, Nuns, Canons and Friars,” 624. From 1450 the archdeacon at Bergen Cathedral received the income from the Abbey lands, indicating that the Abbey was strongly affiliated with the chapter; see Helle, Bergen bys historie, 877 103 Johnsen, “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene Arne og Audfinn?” 93, edited in dn, 9:82. 104 For relations between bishops and chapters in medieval Norway see Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 275. 105 For the administration of Bishop Árni see Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 272–​73. 106 The Registrum of Bergen is discussed in Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 252. 107 For an edition of the booklist and discussions of ownership see appendix three in this volume. 108 Interestingly Árni owned both Latin and Old Norse versions of History of the Kings of Britain by Geoffrey of Monmouth and The History of the Fall of Troy by Dares Phrygius. Árni would be able to read the versions in each language and would be in a position to make extensive commentary on the Old Norse version and its accuracy. 109 Edited in Pavelige Nuntiers Regnskabs-​og Dagbøger, 67–​134.

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Árne Sigurðsson, were supported by the canons of the chapter, of which Jón Halldórsson was one. 10

The Canons of Christ Church Cathedral

The cathedral chapter at Christ Church was created at the latest by the 1180s. As seen above, in 1309 there were twelve canons in the chapter. There were twelve prebends with associated estates, six on each side of the choir, and as there were twelve altars associated with the saints listed above, Helle thought that it might have been possible that each canon had responsibility for an altar. At least some of the altars are recorded as having a canon being connected to them.110 These twelve canons formed a small chapter compared with other cathedrals. As a comparison, the largest chapter in Norway was that of the cathedral of Nidaros with twenty-​four canons, while Roskilde in Denmark had thirty-​five. English cathedral chapters had on average more canons than Scandinavian ones with the smallest secular English cathedral, Exeter, having twenty-​four canons, while the largest, Lincoln, had fifty-​eight.111 Like other cathedral chapters the Bergen chapter was involved in advising and aiding the bishop in his duties as well as electing new ones. They were also involved in other tasks on the cathedral’s behalf whether they were liturgical, administrative or legal.112 They had their own residence on Holmen known as Kannikeberget.113 The chapter at the cathedral included many of the most learned and influential figures in Bergen’s intellectual society. The canons had assistant priests who would help them and also substitute for them when they were away from the cathedral. The canons were frequently used in royal missions or in ecclesiastical duties outside of the cathedral. They might also be away for personal reasons, for study or private duties. As referred to above on 10 April 1309 only around half of the canons were at the cathedral in Bergen, two were studying in Paris, one was studying in England, two were in service to King Hákon v, and one busy with the archbishop’s affairs. Furthermore, one was on pilgrimage to the shrine of Thomas of Canterbury in England.114 The chapter was responsible for services and also received revenue 110 For this see Helle, Bergen bys historie, 598 and Tryti, “Bergen som sentrum i bispedømmet,” 32. 111 On English canons see Lepine, A Brotherhood of Canons, 3. 112 On the function of canons see Ciardi, On the Formation of Cathedral Chapters, 16–​17. 113 See Vihovde, Kirkesenteret påHolmen, 23. 114 In Helle, Bergen bys historie, 598, edited in dn, 6:72 and reproduced here: “Duoque ex eis sunt jam Parysiis in studio et unus in Anglia, nec non et alii duo sunt in continuo servitio

28 Etheridge from some of the city’s churches such as St Mary, St Olaf, Cross Church, Little Christ Church and St Peter. The canons were also responsible for churches outside of the city, as for example Magister Árni, canon and schoolmaster 1319–​20, who functioned as parish priest in Ullensvang.115 In his survey of the life of canons in England (1300–​1541), David Lepine used many case studies which can be useful in comparison with the situation in medieval Norway. Canons in England tended to be from the lesser aristocracy, leading urban families or yeoman.116 The requirements to be a canon were thus: 1) legitimate and free birth (if not then it needed dispensation) and not physically deformed; 2) minimum age fifteen for an acolyte, seventeen for a subdeacon, nineteen for a deacon and twenty-​four for a priest, while scholars could be younger; 3) educational and moral suitability, i.e. they could read and sing; 4) an acquired benefice presented by a patron such the king, bishop, religious house or a member of the lay aristocracy.117 Jón Halldórsson would have fulfilled all of these categories. Little is known of the early education of canons in England, but funding a university education for a canon was done by one of three principal methods: 1) possession of a benefice, 2) financial support from family or a patron, 3) charitable support.118 In the early 14th century around sixty per cent of English canons had a university education.119 The canons who were actively involved in diocesan administration were a select number. Lepine gives the example of a small cathedral such as Exeter with twenty-​five per cent of the chapter working with diocesan administration and a large cathedral such as Lincoln at fifteen per cent.120 Canons were typically resident at a cathedral for six to nine months per year. They worshipped regularly in the cathedral and attended the offices set out in the statutes. They also kept hospitality for the visitors and the poor and attended chapter meetings.121 Canons would sometimes give sermons at the cathedral. The preachers magnifici principis Haquini regis Norwegiæ illustris, ac unus in negotiis dicti domini archiepiscopi constitutus, prout hoc per numerum residentium manifeste constabat, qui non remanent nisi sex, quorum tamen unus propter votum quo astrictus est ad sanctum Thomam in Anglia.” 115 For the responsibilities of the chapter see Helle, Bergen bys historie, 599; Bagge, “Norge,” 146, Magister Árni is edited in dn, 8:51–​52. 116 Lepine, A Brotherhood of Canons, 48–​54. 117 A Brotherhood of Canons, 66–​67. 118 A Brotherhood of Canons, 54–​56. 119 A Brotherhood of Canons, 57; Peter Moraw notes that his research on canons in Laon cathedral from 1272–​1412 found that forty-​eight percent of them were magisters or held a higher degree, see Moraw, “Careers of Graduates,” 257. 120 Lepine, A Brotherhood of Canons, 80. 121 A Brotherhood of Canons, 90–​91.

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researched by Lepine in England had studied theology and many of them were doctors.122 The theological learning of Jón Halldórsson coupled with his skilled use of sermons would point to him perhaps preaching at Christ Church Cathedral. He was certainly one of the small number of canons involved in diocesan administration as can be seen from the documentary evidence of his career below. This would have been a natural task for him due to his training in law at the University of Bologna. 11

Jón Halldórsson’s Career as a Canon

The first documentary evidence of Jón as a canon is from the 19th of February 1310 where he is involved in a case with Bishop Árni Sigurðsson. Here Jón was one of several canons involved in the case of Ragna Marteinsdóttir who was retiring to the Benedictine nunnery of Nonneseter in 1310.123 Jón is mentioned again as a canon of Bergen on the 22nd of January 1313, this time in an appeal of Finnr Halldórsson to Pope Clement regarding the tithes and says that Jón is his brother.124 On the 29th of December, 1313 there is another dispute between Finnr Halldórsson and Bishop Árni about tithes.125 In 1319 in two cases, on the 27th of October and again on the 21st of November, Jón Halldórsson is mentioned as a canon together with Hákon Erlingsson, where he is involved with a case involving Grímr Ormsson, canon of the Chapel of the Apostles.126 Finally, on the 10th of March 1320, Jón is mentioned in testimonies mentioning two witnesses talking of events concerning the Chapel of the Apostles.127 In these cases Jón is mentioned, along with other canons. Astås has speculated that while Jón was a canon in Bergen, he composed the work of biblical commentary known as Stjórn I.128 This is a learned treatise using many works, such as the Historia scholastica of Peter Comestor; the Speculum historiale of Vincent of Beauvais; the Etymologiae of Isidore of Seville; 1 22 123 124 125 126

A Brotherhood of Canons, 138–​39. dn, 1:126. Johanne Haldori et Johanne Öywindi et Paulo canonicis Bergensibus. dn, 7:70. Johanne, dicti prepositi fratre germano. dn, 3:101. dn, 4:131. Domino Johanne Haldori canonicis eiusdem ecclesie. dn, 4:135. ac subcollectorum generalium fructuum omnium beneficiorum vacancium per Bergensem dyocesim. 127 dn, 8:55 and 56. Johanne Haldori canonicis Bergensibus. 1 28 For the theory which connects Jón’s learning in Paris and Bologna to the authorship of the text see Astås, Et bibelverk fra middelalderen, 209; this theory first originated from Seip see Seip, introduction to Stjórn AM 227 fol., 8 and renewed by Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 110f. It is contested by Tveitane, Den lærde stil, 26f.

30 Etheridge the De Genesi ad litteram; the De Genesi contra manichæos and the De civitate Dei of Augustine; the Rationale officiorum divinorum of William of Durand; the Legenda aurea of Jacobus de Voragine; the Antiquitates and the Bellum Judaicum of Josephus; the Naturalis Historia of Pliny; the Metamorphoses of Ovid; the Alexanders saga of Brandr Jónsson and the anonymous Nikolaus saga. If Jón was the writer of Stjórn I, then he had access to a large amount of learned literature. Most of these he would have already encountered in his university studies. It is possible that some of these works may have formed part of his own library or that of the library of Christ Church. He may also have had access to the library of the Apostles Chapel where his brother Finnr was dean. 12

Finnr Halldórsson and the Apostles Chapel

In addition to the cathedral and religious houses there were nineteen churches in Bergen at the turn of the 14th century, all answerable to the bishop. The royal chapels differed from the other foundations in Bergen in that they answered to the king and not the bishop. There were at the peak fourteen royal chapels in medieval Norway. Three of these were in Bergen of which the most significant was the Apostles Chapel on Holmen, with the other two having important functions connected to the city’s hospitals. King Magnús vi developed the Apostles Chapel into a collegiate church. This was a collegium with a dean as leader of a chapter of secular canons. There were probably twelve canons in total at the Apostles Chapel as at Christ Church.129 There was also an attached school. In 1308 Hákon v received privileges from Pope Clement v for a chapel organization consisting of fourteen churches, four of which were collegiate, that was led by the dean of the Apostles Chapel, who would receive the title magister capellarum regis.130 The dean would lead the chapel clergy, oversee the fourteen royal chapels and have a rank equivalent to that of bishop.131 The organisation altogether received nearly half of the royal estates.132 During the 13th century the royal archives were probably held in the Apostles Chapel and moved to Oslo during the reign of Hákon v.133 The development of the chancellery and the royal chapel organisation went hand in hand.134 This can be seen 1 29 For the Apostles Chapel see Helle, Bergen bys historie, 621. 130 Helle, Bergen bys historie, 566. 131 Bergen bys historie, 575. 132 Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 263–​64. 133 Viking Stronghold, 250. 134 Helle, Bergen bys historie, 566.

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with the careers of certain canons of the Apostles Chapel, such as Canon Bárðr Serksson who had been the chancellor of King Eiríkr ii in 1287. Another canon, Bótólfr Hákonarson, was in 1309–​13 the féhirðir (treasurer) of the Bergen area and in 1311 served as sýslumaðr (sheriff) of the city.135 Furthermore, Canon Áki was chancellor of Duke Hákon in 1293, and functioned as the Royal Chancellor in 1299.136 Laurentius saga praises him as a mikils hattar meistare and relates that he studied for a long time abroad.137 Finally, other learned canons were Magister Styrkár and Magister Álfr Halldórsson who are both recorded as vicars of the Apostles Chapel in 1319.138 Of all the members of the chapter of the Apostles Chapel, the most powerful and influential was Finnr Halldórsson. In 1306 Finnr was made provost of the Apostles Chapel and in 1308 magister capellarum regis and became leader of the fourteen chapels.139 Finnr is stated on 18th September 1309 as being dean when he is listed as being together with the Icelandic-​born Haukr Erlendsson (c.1265–​1334) and others as being involved in the dispute concerning German merchants overwintering in Bergen.140 On the 12th of January 1311 Finnr was involved in another dispute about foreigners in Bergen; Haukr Erlendsson is again involved in this case.141 On the 29th of December 1313 there is another dispute with Finnr Halldórsson and Bishop Árni about tithes.142 On 14th of February 1320 Finnr Halldórsson is involved in a dispute with Bishop Auðfinnr (1314–​30) concerning the proper burial of the body of Þórðr Brattr.143 Compared to Jón, Finnr’s life is richly documented in the period 1306–​24 when he was one of the most important personages in the Norwegian realm.144 We can only speculate on the relationship between Jón and Finnr. Finnr was known personally to all of the important people of the realm as the documentary evidence above shows. It is possible that he might have introduced his brother to some of these people that he favoured. If not, they would have known Jón as being the younger brother of the powerful Finnr. As leader of the institution under royal authority he had considerable independence from the bishop. As well as his ecclesiastic titles, he was also awarded the rank of knight 1 35 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144

Bergen bys historie, 560. Bergen bys historie, 565–​66. See Bagge, “Norge,” 144 and edited in Biskupa sögur III, 23. See Bagge, “Norge,” 146 and edited in dn, 4:131. For this see Astås, Et bibelverk fra middelalderen, 209. dn, 1:122. dn, 3:93. dn, 3:101. dn, 4:141. For more on Finnr see Bagge, Den kongelige kapellgeistlighet 1150–​1319.

32 Etheridge and was titled Herra. He was in strife with the bishops of Bergen but acted quite independently until Hákon v’s death in 1319. Thereafter, the bishops had the upper hand in the control of the diocese.145 Finnr’s colleague Haukr Erlendsson is a good example of a Norwegian lay scholar and the part they had to play in the intellectual life of Bergen during the 14th century. 13

The Lay Intellectual Environment in Bergen

Gunnar Harðarson states that “Perhaps it would not be absurd to emphasize a certain degree of Latinity in Norwegian clerical and royal circles in the 13th century.”146 This certainly could be extended to the early 14th century as well; King Hákon v knew Latin well enough to be able to speak it at official meetings.147 The Norwegian kings frequently used university educated clerics as civil servants.148 A good education was therefore sought by potential members of the bureaucracy.149 For lay offices it was unclear what level of qualifications were required. Most members of the elite were probably well versed in Norwegian law, but a university education also taught Roman and canon law.150 This encouraged secular aristocrats to study law in Bologna at the end of the 13th century. During Hákon v’s reign up to seven scribes were producing possibly 7000 letters a year in Latin and in Old Norse.151 The Norwegian chancery made extensive use of the vernacular, while Latin was mainly used for foreign correspondence and some letters to the Church. Ecclesiastical institutions also used the vernacular quite extensively but less than the chancery.152 Bagge says that the Norwegian aristocracy functioned as an administrative rather than a military class and notes that Norway had less than two years of land warfare in the period 1240–​1319. It would be a good investment therefore for a young man who wanted to enter the king’s service to go to study at Orléans or Bologna.153 The monarchs that were resident in Bergen provided the setting for a learned courtly environment.154 Amongst prominent learned courtiers was 1 45 Helle, Bergen bys historie, 566. 146 Gunnar Harðarson, “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 43. 147 “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 43, edited in Biskupa sögur III, 255. 148 “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 43–​44. 149 Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 242 see also Sällström, Bologna och Norden, 177–​79. 150 Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 241. 151 Viking Stronghold, 257. 152 Viking Stronghold, 262. 153 Viking Stronghold, 328. 154 Viking Stronghold, 90–​94.

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33

Loðinn Leppr (†1288) a well-​travelled ambassador for the courts of Hákon iv, Magnús vi and Eiríkr ii. He pursued diplomatic missions for the royal court in Castile, Egypt, Tunisia, Iceland, and Denmark. Bjarni Erlingsson (†1313) also studied law at Bologna and was advisor to Hákon v, as well as ambassador to the English and Scottish courts. Þórir Hákonarson (†1317) was a chancellor and had been taught canon law in a foreign university. The testament of Bjarni Auðunsson, who we met previously, lists his books on Roman and canon law as well as his copy of the Liber de regimine principum by Giles of Rome.155 Bjarni Auðunsson was a prominent member of Hákon v’s council and was in Bologna in the 1290s at the same time as Bjarni Loðinsson and Bjarni Auðunsson.156 The layman Ólafr Eindriðason loaned four books on Roman law in Bergen in 1317 from either the church of St Mary in Bergen or in Oslo.157 While Árni Gjafaldason borrowed books together with Ólafr. The loan of books can have meant that he planned to study abroad.158 The best known of these secular administrators and their work is the Icelander Haukr Erlendsson (c.1265–​1334). He served under King Hákon v, first in Oslo and then as a magistrate of the Gulaþing while living in Bergen. He was knighted in 1306 and was a member of the royal council. Haukr was one of the people involved in the 1311 dispute between the Dominicans and the canons as a lögmaðr (magistrate) and advisor to King Hákon v. Haukr spent many of his years in Bergen between 1302 and 1334 and was involved in several cases with Finnr Halldórsson and must have been well known to Jón. His encyclopaedic Hauksbók was partly written by Norwegian scribes 1302–​10 and may have been influenced by the Bergen intellectual milieu.159 Gunnar Harðarson states that “It is a fine example of the personal intellectual culture of an aristocrat in the Norwegian fourteenth century.”160 Hauksbók contained works of history, cartography, canon law, theology, natural philosophy, computus, arithmetic, astrology and saga material. Within Hauksbók is the Old Norse mathematical treatise Algorismus. This stems from Alexander of Villedieu’s Carmen de Algorismo. The earliest version of this treatise appears in Hauksbók, the slightly later Algorismus that appears in the manuscript

1 55 The testament of Bjarni Auðunsson is edited in dn, 16:2. 156 For Bjarni Auðunsson see Bagge, “Nordic students at foreign Universities,” 10; Bagge, “Norge,” 144; Helle, Bergen bys historie, 630–​32 and Gunnar Harðarson, “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 44. 157 These book loans edited in dn, 2:129 and 138. 158 Bagge, “Norge,” 146. 159 See the article by Gunnar Harðarson, “Hauksbók og alfræðirit miðalda.” 160 Quoted in Gunnar Harðarson, “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 63.

34 Etheridge Reykjavik, The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies, gks 1812 ii 4°, was written by a scribe trained in a Norwegian scriptorium.161 It is possible that the original treatise may have been compiled in the learned environment of Bergen, with its many university educated scholars and access to continental works.162 14

Jón Enters the Dominican Friary in Bergen

Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, states that Jón was canon of Bergen Cathedral from 1310 until he became bishop in 1322, while Hughes claims that Jón grew up at the Dominican friary and lived there for around two decades after his return from his studies in Paris and Bologna.163 As noted above, the tasks of a canon were time consuming, while from their entry into the order until old age Dominican friars had to attend daily classes in the friary’s schola and take part in its exercises.164 The question must be asked if it was possible for Jón to have been at the same time a canon of the cathedral with the duties that position implies and also a Dominican friar with the duties that implies. I have been unable to find any examples of this. Therefore, with the evidence available it would seem likely that Jón must have joined the Dominican Order after he was a canon and before he became a bishop. Disputations staged in local Dominican schools were open to the public. Any visitors who wished to take part in the debate were allowed to do so freely, with weekly disputations being the norm.165 Jón Halldórsson could therefore have kept his connection with the Dominicans in Bergen and joined their debates and disputations at the friary while still being a canon. When Jón finally decided to join the Order, he would have normally had to have faced a six-​month probation period or longer as a novice. However, constitutions allowed for exceptions to be made in the case of older and wiser men, such as 161 For the description of the Norwegian hand see Alfræði Íslenzk, 2:ccxii; Haraldur Bernharðsson, “GKS 1812 4to: Scribes and Scribal Practice.” 162 For the edition of Algorismus see Hauksbók, eds. Finnur Jónsson and Eiríkur Jónsson. For a description of the treatise see Bekken and Christoffersen, Algorismus i Hauksbók; Bekken, On the Cubus Perfectus; Kristín Bjarnadóttir and Bjarni Vilhjálmur Halldórsson, “The Norse Treatise Algorismus”. For arguments on its origin see Gunnar Harðarson, “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 62–​63 and Christian Etheridge, “The Evidence for Islamic Scientific Works in Medieval Iceland,” 63–​65. 163 Introduction to Biskupa sögur III, cii and Hughes, “Klári saga,” 145. 164 For the friar’s duties see Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 133. 165 Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 171.

Canon, Dominican and Brother

35

Jón. For a secular Master of Theology this probation period could be shortened to a matter of a few hours.166 A comparable example of a secular canon who became a Dominican friar then bishop would be Israel Erlandsson (†1329). He was a canon of Uppsala Cathedral in 1274 and entered the Dominican friary of Sigtuna in 1280. In 1295 he became lector of the friary and in 1298 prior. Finally, he was consecrated Bishop of Västerås in 1311.167 In 1322 Jón Halldórsson was consecrated Bishop of Skálholt by Archbishop Eilífr Árnason Kortin. Jón then travelled to the royal court in Oslo in early 1323 and by autumn of that year he was in Iceland. He stayed in Iceland until 1338, when he was summoned to Bergen by the Archbishop Páll Bárðarson of Nidaros (1333–​46) in connection with the payment of papal taxes. He arrived in Bergen on 1st of December 1338 and was seriously ill. On February 2nd, 1339 he died and was buried at the expense of his good friend Bishop Hákon in the Dominican friary in Bergen.168 15

Conclusion

The city of Bergen was a place of great importance in Jón Halldórsson’s life. He spent his childhood here, returned as an adult to be ordained into the priesthood as a canon of Christ Church Cathedral, joined the Dominican Order here and finally passed away and was buried in the city. I have endeavored in this chapter to build upon the fragmentary archival material and previous scholarship on Jón Halldórsson to provide a clearer picture of his life in Bergen. This has led me to put a proper timeframe to his life and to also explain that he was a student, then ordained into the priesthood, before joining the Dominican Order. Jón Halldórsson learned much in his time at the Universities of Paris and Bologna and this learning continued into the next phase of his life in Bergen. Bergen was a multinational and vibrant center with thriving Icelandic, English and German communities that contributed to the intellectual life of the city. Jón’s time in the cathedral chapter showed him using his knowledge of law in at least six cases of which we have knowledge. His fellow canons were university trained scholars, who were learned in theology, Roman and canon law. The Dominican friary was also a place of learning with its studia solemnia 1 66 “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 81. 167 On the career of Israel Erlandsson see Lindroth, Svensk Lärdomshistoria, 50. 168 See Astås, An Old Norse Biblical Compilation, 18; the letters sent from Hákon to Jón in 1337 and 1338 are edited in Diplomatarium Islandicum 2:720–​24.

36 Etheridge as was the Franciscan friary which even taught King Magnús vi. The other monastic foundations were all important centers of scholarship in their own right and Jón seems to have been involved with members of most of them at some time. The Apostles Chapel under his brother Finnr also had a succession of learned canons who were involved in royal government. The Norwegian monarchs of Jón’s day were all learned men and sponsors of literary culture. Their courtiers and officials were also university-​trained scholars. Bergen as a place of bilingual book learning can be seen from the collection of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson and the many books that were produced in both Old Norse and Latin in the city itself. It was in this scholarly environment in the international city of Bergen that Jón matured intellectually on his way to becoming the learned and influential scholar he was to become later in life.

Bibliography



Primary Sources

Acta nationis Germanicae universitatis Bononiensis. Edited by Ernst Friedlaender and Carlo Malagola. Berolini: Reimer, 1887. Alfræði Íslenzk: Islandsk Encyklopædisk Litteratur. Vol. 2, Rímtol. Edited by Natanael Beckman and Kristian Kålund. Copenhagen: S.L. Møllers Bogtrykkeri, 1916. Auctoritate Papae: The Church Province of Uppsala and the Apostolic Penitentiary 1410–​1526. Edited by Sara Risberg and Kirsi Salonen. Acta Pontificum Suecica 2. Stockholm: National Archives of Sweden, 2008. Biskupa sögur, gefnar út af Hinu íslenzka bókmentafèlagi. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Guðbrandur Vigfússon, Þorvaldur Björnsson, and Eiríkur Jónsson. 2 vols. Copenhagen: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag, 1858–​78. Biskupa sögur III. Edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Chronicle of Lanercost, 1272–​1346. Translated and introduced by Sir Herbert Maxwell. Glasgow: James MacLehose and Sons, 1913. Diplomatarium Islandicum: Íslenzkt fornbréfasafn, sem hefir inni aðhalda bréf og gjörninga, dóma og máldaga, og aðrar skrár er snerta Ísland eða íslenzka menn. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Jón Þorkelsson, Páll Eggert Ólason, and Björn Þorsteinsson. 16 vols. Copenhagen and Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1857−1972. Diplomatarium Norvegicum: Oldbreve til kundskab om Norges indre og ydre forhold, sprog, slægter, sæder, lovgivning og rettergang i middelalderen. Edited by Christian C. A. Lange, Carl R. Unger, H. J. Huitfeldt-​Kaas, Gustav Storm, Ferdinand Linthoe Næshagen, and Tor Ulset. 23 vols. Christiania/​Oslo: Kommisjonen for Diplomatarium Norvegicum, Norsk historisk kjeldeskrift-​institutt, Riksarkivet, 1847‒2011.

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Hauksbók, udg. efter de Arnamagnæanske håndskrifter no. 371, 544 og 675, 4̊, samt forskellige papirshåndskrifter af det Kongelige nordiske oldskrift-​selskab. Edited by Finnur Jónsson and Eiríkur Jónsson. Copenhagen: Thiele, 1892–​96. Islandske Annaler indtil 1578. Edited by Gustav Storm. Christiania: Det norske historiske Kildeskriftfond; Grøndahl og Søns Bogtrykkeri, 1888. Islendzk Æventyri: Isländische Legenden, Novellen und Märchen. Edited by Hugo Gering. 2 vols. Halle: Verlag der Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses, 1882–​83. Johannis Daci Opera. Edited by Alfred Otto. Copenhagen: Det Danske Sprog-​og Litteraturselskab, 1955. Kirkehistoriske samlinger. Bind 1. Edited by H. Roos. Copenhagen: Selskabet for Danmarks Kirkehistorie, 1849–​52. Martini de Dacia Opera. Edited by H. Roos. Copenhagen: Det Danske Sprog-​og Litteraturselskab, 1961. Pavelige Nuntiers Regnskabs-​og Dagbøger: førte under Tiende-​Opkrævningen i Norden 1282–​1334. Edited by Peter Andreas Munch. Christiania: Brögger & Christies Bogtrykkeri, 1864. Petri Philomenae de Dacia et Petri de S. Audomaro opera quadrivialia. Edited by Fritz Såby-​Pedersen. Copenhagen: Det Danske Sprog-​og Litteraturselskab, 1983–​84. Regesta Norvegica. https://​www.dokpro.uio.no/​dipl_​norv/​om-​regesta.html. Simonis Daci Opera. Edited by Alfred Otto. Copenhagen: Det Danske Sprog-​og Litteraturselskab, 1963. Stjórn: Tekst etter håndskriftene. Edited by Reidar Astås. 2 vols. Norrøne tekster 8. Oslo: Riksarkivet, 2009.



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38 Etheridge Bagge, Sverre. Den kongelige kapellgeistlighet 1150–​1319. Bergen: Universitetsforlaget, 1976. Bekken, Otto B. On the Cubus Perfectus of the Algorismus in Hauksbók. Agder: Distriktshøgskoles skriftserie, nr. 2, 1986. Bekken, Otto B. and Marit Christoffersen. Algorismus i Hauksbók. Agder: Distriktshøgskoles skriftserie, nr. 1, 1985. Bennett, R.F. The Early Dominicans. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1937. Ciardi, Anna Minara. On the Formation of Cathedral Chapters and Cathedral Culture: Lund, Denmark, and Scandinavia, c. 1060–​1225. Lund: Media-​Tryck, 2016. Ebbesen, Sten. “Johannes de Dacia.” https://​wiki.uib.no/​medieval/​index.php/​ Johannes_de_Dacia. Ebbesen, Sten. “Simon de Dacia.” https://​wiki.uib.no/​medieval/​index.php/​Simon_​de_​ Dacia. Ebbesen, Sten. “Martinus de Dacia.” https://​wiki.uib.no/​medieval/​index.php/​Martinus_​ de_​Dacia. Etheridge, Christian. “The Evidence for Islamic Scientific Works in Medieval Iceland.” In Fear and Loathing in the North. Jews and Muslims in Medieval Scandinavia and the Baltic Region, edited by Cordelia Heß and Jonathan Adams, 49–​72. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015. Fowler, David C. The Life and Times of John Trevisa, Medieval Scholar. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1995. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. Introduction to Biskupa sögur III. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Gunnar Harðarson. “Old Norse Intellectual Culture: Appropriation and Innovation.” In Intellectual Culture in Medieval Scandinavia c.1100–​1350, edited by Stefka Georgieva Eriksen, 35–​76. Turnhout: Brepols, 2016. Gunnar Harðarson. “Hauksbók og alfræðirit miðalda.” Gripla 27 (2016): 127–​55. Halldór Hermannsson. Sæmund Sigfússon and the Oddaverjar. Islandica. Vol. 22. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1932. Haraldur Bernharðsson. “GKS 1812 4to: Scribes and Scribal Practice.” In A World in Fragments: GKS 1812 4to and Medieval Encyclopedic Literature (forthcoming). Haugen, Odd Einar and Åslaug Ommundsen, eds. Vår eldste bok. Skrift, miljø og biletbruk i den norske homilieboka. Oslo. Novus forlag, 2010. Helle, Knut. “Bergenhus-​området i middelalderen.” In Fra kongsette til kulturminne: Håkonshallen og Bergenshus-​området gjennom 750 år, edited by Anne Ågotnes and Ingvild Øye, 12–​29. Bergen: John Grieg Forlag, 2011. Helle, Knut. Bergen bys historie. Vol. 1. Kongssete og kjøpstad. Bergen: Alma Mater Forlag, 1982. Hinnebusch, William A. The History of the Dominican Order. Vol. 1, Origins and Growth to 1500. New York: Alba House, 1965.

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Hinnebusch, William A. The History of the Dominican Order. Vol. 2, Intellectual and Cultural Life to 1500. New York: Alba House, 1973. Hommedal, Alf Tore. “Monks, Nuns, Canons and Friars in Medieval Bergen.” In Lübec­ker Kolloquium zur Stadtarchäologie im Hanseraum IX. Die Klöster, edited by Manfred Gläser and Manfred Schneider, 613–​28. Lübeck: Schmidt-​Römhild Verlag, 2014. Hughes, Shaun F. D. “Klári saga as an Indigenous Romance.” In Romance and Love in Late Medieval and Early Modern Iceland. Essays in Honor of Marianne Kalinke, edited by Kirsten Wolf and Johanna Denzin, 135–​63. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Library, 2008. Jakobsen, Alfred. Studier i Clarus saga: Til spørsmålet om sagaens norske proveniens. Årbok for Universitetet i Bergen, Humanistisk serie 1963, no. 2. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1964. Jakobsen, Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig. “The Dominican Convents of Medieval Norway.” Centre for Dominican Studies of Dacia. http://​jggj.dk/​CDSD.htm. Jakobsen, Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig. “Prædikebrødrenes samfundsrolle i middelalderens Danmark.” PhD diss., University of Southern Denmark, 2008. Johansson, Karl G. “The Hauksbók: An Example of Medieval Modes of Collecting and Compilation.” In The Dynamics of the Medieval Manuscript: Text Collections from a European Perspective, edited by Karen Pratt, Bart Besamusca, Matthias Meyer, Ad Putter, with Hannah Morcos, 131–​45. Göttingen: V&R unipress GmbH, 2017. Johnsen, Arne Odd. “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene Arne og Audfinn?” Historisk tids­ skrift 36 (1953): 89–​98. Kalinke, Marianne. “Clári saga: A Case of Low German Infiltration.” Scripta Islandica, 59 (2008): 5–​26. Kristín Bjarnadóttir and Bjarni Vilhjálmur Halldórsson. “The Norse Treatise Algorismus.” Nitra Acta Mathematica 13 (2010): 15–​27. Lepine, David. A Brotherhood of Canons Serving God: English Secular Cathedrals in the Later Middle Ages. Woodbridge: The Boydell Press, 1995. Lindroth, Sten. Svensk Lärdomshistoria: Medeltiden Reformationstiden. Stockholm: P.A. Norstedt & Söners Förlag, 1975. Marteinn H. Sigurðsson. “The Life and Literary Legacy of Jón Halldórsson, Bishop of Skálholt: A Profile of a Preacher in Fourteenth Century Iceland.” MPhil diss., University of St Andrews, 1997. Moraw, Peter. “Careers of Graduates.” In A History of the University in Europe. Volume 1. Universities in the Middle Ages, edited by H. De Ridder Symoens, 244–​79. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2003. Mulchahey, M. Michèle. “First the Bow is Bent in Study”: Dominican Education before 1350. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1998. Mundal, Else. “Sagaskrivarane og Bergen.” In Fragment frå fortida, edited by Geir Atle Ersland and Øystein Hellesøe Brekke, 174–​99. Oslo: Dreyers Forlag, 2013.

40 Etheridge Mundal, Else. “Byen som litterært sentrum.” In By og land i middelalderen, edited by Ingvild Øye, 64–​85. Bergen: Bryggens Museum, 1994. Opačić, Zoë. “Fit for a King. Håkonshallen and Contemporary Royal Residences.” In Håkonshallen: 750 Years Royal Residence and National Monument, edited by Øystein Hellesøe Brekke and Geir Atle Ersland, 45–​76. Oslo: Dreyers Forlag, 2013. Orme, Nicholas. Medieval Schools: From Roman Britain to Renaissance England. New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006. Såby-​ Pedersen, Fritz. “Petrus Philomena de Dacia.” https://wiki.uib.no/medieval/ index.php/Petrus_Philomena_de_Dacia. Pedersen, Olaf. The First Universities: Studium Generale and the Origins of University Education in Europe, translated by Richard North. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. Pedersen, Olaf. “Petrus Philomena de Dacia: A problem of identity. With a survey of the manuscripts.” Cahiers de l’Institut du moyen-​âge grec et latin 19 (1976): 1–​54. Rashdall, Hastings. The Universities of Europe in the Middle Ages. Volume 1: Salerno, Bologna, Paris. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010. Salonen, Kirsi and Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig Jakobsen. “Om den unge broder Jakobs flugt fra dominikanerklosteret i Roskilde.” Historisk Årbog for Roskilde Amt (2017): 29–​42. Seip, Didrik Arup. Introduction to Stjórn AM 227 fol., edited by Jón Helgason, 7–​18. Corpus codicum islandicorum medii aevi, vol. 20. Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1956. Sigurdson, Erika. The Church in Fourteenth-​Century Iceland: The Formation of an Elite Clerical Identity. The Northern World 72. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2016. Sällström, Åke, Bologna och Norden intill Avignonpåvedömets tid, (Lund: Gleerups, 1957). Tryti, Anna Elisa. “Bergen som sentrum i bispedømmet.” In By og land i middelalderen, edited by Ingvild Øye, 23–​43. Bergen: Bryggens Museum, 1994. Tveitane, Mathias. “Bøker og litteratur i Bergen i middelalder og reformasjonstid.”Nordisk tidskrift för bok-​och biblioteksväsen 68 (1981): 99–​113. Tveitane, Mattias. Den lærde stil: Oversetterprosa i den norrøne versjonen av VitæPatrum. Årbok for Universitetet i Bergen. Humanistisk serie 1967, vol. 2. Bergen and Oslo: Norwegian Univeristies Press, 1968. Viard, Jules. Les Jornaux au Trésor de Philippe IV le bel. Paris: Imprimerie National, 1940. Vidas, Marina. The Christina Psalter. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2006. Vihovde, Anne Brit. Kirkesenteret på Holmen. Bergen: Bryggens Museum, 1998.

chapter 2

Bishop Jón Halldórsson and Clerical Culture in 14th-​Century Iceland Viðar Pálsson 1

Introduction

There is strong indication that Jón Halldórsson’s career in Skálholt was of considerable historical importance, both as regards ecclesiastical affairs and cultural influence. The latter has attracted more attention than the former in modern scholarship, however, since Jón’s pioneering use of exempla in Iceland and his association with romances (riddarasögur) has long been recognized and discussed within its literary context. Indeed, it was within that context that the eminent German philologist Hugo Gering initially brought together the sparse biographical detail there exists on Jón, presenting a sketch of his life in his introduction to Islendzk Æventyri in 1883 and listing the related primary sources.1 While there is no primary source Gering’s attentive eye failed to catch, there is nevertheless an opportunity to gain a fuller understanding of Jón’s life and ecclesiastical career, especially as regards his advanced education, by examining it against the background of the society in which he lived and the changes it underwent during his lifetime towards the end of the 13th century and in the early 14th. The fact that Jón was educated in Paris and Bologna, the most eminent centers of higher learning in high and late medieval Western Europe, obviously separates him in a significant way from other occupants of the Icelandic episcopal seats during that age, and indeed until the early modern era. From the same vantage point, his Dominican career was an anomaly and must have entailed formal training in preaching the good news via exempla. A second major theme framing Jón’s career in the service of the church is the transformation of realm to state. This transformation came to an accelerated phase 1 Islendzk Æventyri, 2:vi–​xxviii. See also Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 16‒22; Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, introduction to Biskupa sögur III, cii‒cxi; Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “The Life and Literary Legacy of Jón Halldórsson,” 5‒35. The primary sources and key dates of Jón’s life are listed by Oluf Kolsrud in Diplomatarium Norvegicum 17(2): 264‒65.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_004

42 Pálsson in Norway as Jón was growing up there as a boy and had a profound impact on the legal standing of the church, both then and during his episcopate in Skálholt. Not only his episcopal deeds and policies should be examined but also, I would argue, his education within the context of this transformation, referring equally to the changing nature of ‘church’ and ‘state’ and the often complex and symbiotic relations between the two. Accordingly, the following sketch of Jón’s clerical career unfolds in three thematic chapters: The first describing the changing political and legal environment in which Jón operated; the second outlining his episcopal administration and principles; and the third assessing his legal education, what it probably entailed and how it most likely served and shaped his ecclesiastical ambitions. 2

Church and State –​Jón’s Political and Legal Environment in Skálholt

As is well known, Kings Hákon gamli Hákonarson (r.1217‒63) and his son Magnús lagabætir (r.1263‒80) brought Norwegian state-​building to an unprecedented level and phase in the mid and later 13th century. Central to their transformation of realm to state was a programmatic legal reform of the kingdom, including most prominently the revision and standardization of the kingdom’s separate provincial codes and, eventually, the promotion of a unified national code (Magnús’s Landslǫg, ‘National Law’, from 1274; a separate but parallel ‘Town Law’, Bjarkeyjarréttr, was introduced two years later).2 This was a turning point in Nordic and European legal history at which the king assumed the novel role of a human legislator, necessitating the introduction of the legal concept ius positivum by canon lawyers as opposed to lex naturalis.3 The notion of a human legislator, the law-​giving king, contradicted the culture of customary law that was enshrined not only in common sense of justice but also in the provincial codes the king sought to revise and replace. At the same time, Gregorian demands for libertas ecclesiae, ecclesiastical freedom from secular authority, both fueled and dictated much of

2 The Landslov was introduced as four separate yet parallel codes for the kingdom’s original jurisdictional districts: Eiðsifaþing, Gulaþing, Borgarþing, and Frostaþing. Bøe, “Magnus Lagabøtes landslov,” in Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder (hereinafter klnm) 11. A recent overview of law and judicial culture in medieval Norway is found in Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 179‒227. 3 Pennington, “Law, Legislative Authority, and Theories of Government, 1150‒1300,” esp. 424‒30; Black, Political Thought in Europe, 34–​41, 152‒55.

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43

the debates that broke out between the archbishop and the Norwegian king (or his regents) over the demarcation between the two spheres of power, a series of debates that lasted from King Magnús’s reign and well into the 14th century.4 In these debates, the archbishop played his political support for the king’s legislative agenda as a bargaining chip for fuller recognition by royal authority for the church’s separate legal standing, jurisdiction, and administrative and fiscal independence. However, the immediate outcome of these debates was confusing, to say the least, principally because of the volatile political atmosphere that dominated the Norwegian court following King Magnús’s death in 1280. In 1273, King Magnús and Archbishop Jón rauði (b.1268‒82) had negotiated an agreement by which the former secured the political support of the latter in exchange for considerable concessions to the church. This was an important motive for the bishop in Skálholt at the time, Árni Þorláksson (b.1269‒98), to move forward with his own reformist legislation for his diocese in 1275, the so-​called Kristinréttr inn nýi (‘New Christian Law Section,’ more commonly referred to as Kristinréttr Árna biskups, ‘Christian Law Section of Bishop Árni’).5 Shortly after its introduction, however, the king’s death ushered in an anti-​clerical regency for his twelve-​year old son Eiríkr, with desperate back-​paddling throwing previous legislation and legal agreements between king and church on the limits of jurisdictions and the administration of ecclesiastical property and offices up into the air. By consequence, Jón Halldórsson ascended to his seat in Skálholt in 1322 when the episcopacy was run on the basis of a church law section that the king probably never ratified (at least we have no evidence that he did), which was repealed by the crown at least once, and which was officially introduced for the diocese of Hólar only in 1354 by ratification of King Magnús Eiríksson (r.1319‒55).6

4 The conflicts between church and state in 13th-​and 14th-​century Norway are synthesized in Bagge, Viking Stronghold, 293‒324, with citations to the relevant primary and secondary literature. 5 Árna saga biskups, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 31‒32, 48‒49; Islandske annaler, ed. Storm, 194 (Skálholtsannáll, assigning it to 1276). For context, see Járnsíða og Kristinréttur Árna Þorlákssonar, 26‒44; Magnús Stefánsson, “Frá goðakirkju,” 150‒54. 6 King Magnús Eiríksson indeed ratified the law for the Hólar diocese in a letter from October 19, 1354, cf. Diplomatarium Islandicum (hereinafter di) 3:98. As Magnús Lyngdal Magnússon has argued, however, it seems rather unlikely that it had not been applied there too since its introduction for the diocese of Skálholt in 1275 or shortly thereafter, cf. Magnús Lyngdal Magnússon, “Kátt er þeim af kristinrétti,” and Járnsíða, 31‒34.

44 Pálsson 3

The Reformer in Skálholt

The aforementioned concordat made by king and archbishop in Bergen in 1273 was subject to papal approval. The pope eventually approved it but with conditions the king was unwilling to accept. King Magnús and Archbishop Jón rauði therefore renegotiated their terms in Túnsberg in 1277 but this time without a call for papal approval. While this new agreement confirmed in all basic matters the important concessions from crown to church previously made, it failed, however, to secure Jón’s most ambitious claim: unequivocal royal recognition of the church’s full legislative authority in ecclesiastical and spiritual matters.7 Both Bishop Árni’s new kristinréttr of 1275 and Bishop Jón Halldórsson’s reformist provisions in Skálholt made on its basis must be viewed in context of this particular issue. Traditionally, Christian law sections were an integral part of the provincial laws of the four legal districts of the kingdom, just as a Christian law section, kristinna laga þáttr, formed a part of the Icelandic commonwealth’s legal corpus Grágás, at least since the early 12th century.8 Accordingly, when the three provincial codes of Gulaþing, Eiðsifaþing and Borgarþing were reformed by royal initiative prior to Jón rauði’s ascendency to his archiepiscopal seat in 1268, they retained their respective (yet revised) Christian law sections.9 Archbishop Jón insisted, however, that the two bodies of law be kept firmly separate, arguing that church law ought to be ministered by ecclesiastical authorities alone, its rightful source or legislator. King and archbishop quarreled about the latter’s legislative authority for years, leaving the issue unresolved upon the king’s death in 1280. Meanwhile, the king proceeded in 1269, the year following Archbishop Jón’s ascendency, to ratify the fourth and last reformed provincial code in Norway, that of Frostaþing, but now without a Christian law section. Two years later he introduced a parallel code for Iceland, Járnsíða, likewise without a Christian law section. For his part, and in face of the king’s reluctance, Jón rauði produced a new set of church law for his episcopal see, based on canon law generally. Despite lack of royal recognition, it was applied by the Norwegian church after the Túnsberg meeting in 1277, testifying to Jón rauði’s self-​confidence about his independent legislative authority. Whatever peace there was, however, died with the king. 7 Norges gamle love (hereinafter ngl) 3:455‒67; di, 2:100‒106, 139‒55; cf. Járnsíða, 26‒28, and Magnús Stefánsson, “Frá goðakirkju,” 138, 170‒71. 8 Hjalti Hugason, Frumkristni og upphaf kirkju, 282‒84; Magnús Már Lárusson, “Kristenrettar –​ Island,” in KLNM, 9:304–​306. 9 Knut Helle, Norge blir en stat, 137‒38; Járnsíða, 26.

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Within two years of his passing, the archbishop was left no options but to flee to Sweden where he died shortly afterwards in December 1282. In the somewhat confusing decades that followed, Bishop Jón Halldórsson showed himself firmly on the Gregorian side in what little there is known about the details of his episcopal career. His introduction of a so-​called Bannsakabréf in 1326, ‘Statute on Excommunicable Deeds’, is a witness to this, grounded as it is in his predecessor’s kristinréttr of 1275 among other things.10 Immediately upon King Magnús’s death in 1280, the royal regency and eventually King Hákon háleggr (r. 1299–​1319) had dismissed the Túnsberg agreement altogether, instead promoting continued validity of previous Christian law sections in amendments of 1290 and 1305, respectively.11 In 1316, moreover, King Hákon reiterated this stance in a third amendment, expressly ordering lögmenn, ‘lawmen’, to ignore the New Christian Law instituted under King Magnús and Archbishop Jón rauði but to uphold previous kristinréttir instead.12 Only a year after Jón Halldórsson issued his statute, Archbishop Eilífr accepted this policy by supporting an amendment to the same effect.13 There is no doubt that Kristinréttr Árna biskups was applied in Iceland since its ratification by Lögrétta at the Alþingi in 1275 onward, despite the king’s refusal to acknowledge the archbishop’s separate legislative authority. However, neither Járnsíða from 1271 nor its 1281 replacement Jónsbók, which the king had sent to Iceland in the year prior to his death, contain Christian law sections meant to replace older sections –​they only contain short and limited Kristindómsbálkar, ‘Segments on Christendom.’ This must have meant, in effect, that the Christian law sections of Grágás were yet to be formally rendered obsolete. Even if Bishop Árni’s new section was clearly meant to supersede it,14 the older section’s manuscript tradition shows that it continued to be copied alongside Árni’s section, especially in the 14th century, as if it was thought necessary to have recourse to both sets of law. This would change in the 15th century, however, when Árni’s New Christian Law is more commonly combined with Jónsbók in manuscripts than in the previous century, indicating 10 11 12 13

14

di, 2:582‒94. ngl, 3:17‒18; di, 2: 272‒75. ngl, 3:117. ngl, 3:153‒54. A new and provisional agreement was reached on judicial matters in 1337. It was Archbishop Óláfr’s general statute from 1351 (Skipan Ólafs erkibiskups), however, that largely revived the concordat of Túnsberg and secured anew many of the rights won by Jón rauði but subsequently lost. di, 3:57‒65; Járnsíða, 35‒36. Some scholars have assumed, without due reservation, that by having Jónsbók introduced without a new Christian law section the king effectively recognized the validity of Árni’s law. That is not obvious.

46 Pálsson that by that time it had established itself more firmly as the Christian law section proper of Jónsbók.15 But what matters the most, perhaps, is that even if Árni seemingly intended his law to be upheld only temporarily, until king and archbishop had it “audru viis skipad” (ordered differently) as he himself put it in a letter in the autumn of 1275,16 the king was first and foremost displeased with how the law was made. In a letter of 1276, King Magnús expressed his anger towards the Icelanders, “lezt hyggia þetta vera sitt starf oc erkibyskups en əigi annara manna at skapa kristinrett j landi hans eðr onnvr lǫg (believed that it was his and the archbishop’s responsibility, but not that of other men, to produce Christian law in his country, or any other law).”17 Beside the issue of legislation, the New Christian Laws of Archbishop Jón rauði and Bishop Árni advanced numerous other Gregorian demands that met with firm resistance from the secular arm and made their final days in office uneasy, to say the least. This became pronounced in the debates on the administration of church property and control over ecclesiastical appointments (the so-​called staðamál in Iceland, the ‘staðir controversy’), an issue that stood at the heart of the Gregorian reform movement from its very beginning in the later 11th century.18 The new kristinréttir also, and significantly for our subject, claimed a broad jurisdiction over a variety of sinful acts, sexual and non-​sexual, civil and criminal, many of which had previously not been subject to ecclesiastical policing. By introducing the Bannsakabréf, therefore, Jón Halldórsson aligned himself firmly with his predecessors and their reformist, Gregorian policies. Listing twenty-​four automatically excommunicable wrong doings, this piece of local, diocesan legislation underscored not only the bishop’s right to police his Christian subjects but also the presence of the church in the common man’s everyday life. The Bannsakabréf drew on Jón rauði’s archiepiscopal statute from Bergen in 1280, which listed various excommunicable deeds, and Bishop Árni’s list of excommunicable wrong doings read out at Alþingi in the summer of 1281, which itself drew on the Jón’s statute. If anything, the Bannsakabréf claims an even broader sphere of application than the previous two statements.19

15 Járnsíða, 39‒44. 16 di, 2:125, cf. Árna saga biskups, 54‒55. 17 di, 2:130, cf. Árna saga biskups, 55‒56. 18 On staðamál, see Magnús Stefánsson, Staðir og staðamál. 19 Magnús Stefánsson, “Frá goðakirkju,” 244‒45; Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, introduction to Biskupa sögur III, cv‒cvi. On church authority and excommunication in medieval Iceland, see Lára Magnúsardóttir, Bannfæring og kirkjuvald.

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Notably, the Bannsakabréf was issued on St Þorlákr’s feast; he served as bishop of Skálholt in 1178–​93 and raised Gregorian claims in Iceland originally.20 Þorlákr’s historical precedence as an advocate for ecclesiastical liberty was evidently augmented somewhat in the reworking of Þorláks saga in Bishop Árni’s days, not unlikely under the bishop’s own supervision or scrutiny.21 Jón Halldórsson likewise demonstrated his affinity with St Þorlákr’s legacy and Árni’s reformist tradition when he delivered the so-​called Sermon of Staðarhóll, most likely in 1330. The sermon is an exemplum (“eitt æfintýr er hann setti í sína predikan”), swallowing up almost a third of Jóns þáttr in am 657 4to and nearly half of it in am 624 4to.22 It highlights the inevitability of divine judgment in this world and the equal standing of all before God’s law, principles that the sermon underscores should be zealously guarded by the church and its officials. Indeed, Bishop Jón seems to have favored no leniency when it came to disciplinary issues, especially involving the clergy. In yet another endorsement of St Þorlákr’s legacy, Jón affirmed his predecessor’s penitential orders (skriftaboð).23 Apparently, he also became the first Icelandic bishop to collect papal taxes when in 1330 he started to collect Peter’s Pence on archiepiscopal and papal orders.24 By so doing, he symbolically highlighted the legal standing of the Roman-​ecclesiastical hierarchy, its independence from local secular control, and the Church’s omnipresence in human society. As far as our sources provide a picture of Jón’s episcopal career, it depicts a devoted servant of a reformed, international church. 4

The Cleric from Paris and Bologna

Jón Halldórsson’s advanced education is routinely acknowledged in modern scholarship yet rarely beyond a general phrase, such as that he studied canon law. True, our primary sources are equally general in their treatment. It is worthwhile, however, pressing the question further, seeking to understand

20 21 22 23 24

Orri Vésteinsson, The Christianization of Iceland, 115‒29. Ásdís Egilsdóttir, introduction to Biskupa sögur II, xxxi‒lii. The sermon is the third exemplum of Jóns þáttr, see Söguþáttur af Jóni Halldórssyni biskupi, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 449‒54. Here, 449. di, 2:596‒606. See further Gunnar F. Guðmundsson, Íslenskt samfélag og Rómakirkja, 93‒101. di, 2:611‒12, 717‒18.

48 Pálsson better what education in Paris and Bologna at this time entailed and what kind of clerics it most commonly produced. Lárentíus saga briefly states that Jón was “af predikaralifnaði ok mikilsháttar klerkr ok ágætr predikari. Hafði hann lengi staðit útlendis at studium í Bononia ok París í Frankaríki” (belonged to the Friars Preachers and was a distinguished cleric and an excellent preacher. He had studied abroad in Bologna and Paris in France for a long time).25 Lárentíus saga was presumably composed around the middle of the 14th century, most probably by the priest Einarr Hafliðason at Breiðabólstaður in Vesturhóp in Húnaþing (1307–​93), who as an officialis at Hólar enjoyed direct access to both Bishop Lárentíus (b. 1324–​31) and the episcopal archives of his see. Einarr also wrote Lögmannsannáll, another key source on the political and ecclesiastical history of early 14th-​century Iceland, which echoes these words on Jón’s studies abroad.26 In both sources, Einarr recounts some of the church-​political disputes carried out between Jón and Lárentíus during their episcopacies, and it is evident that he, and seemingly his contemporaries, considered Jón’s training in law to be outstanding and exceptionally advanced. If the saga is faithful in this respect, it is equally unmistakable that Jón wanted his expertise in law to be appreciated as a source of authority and respect.27 Jóns þáttr, composed shortly after the bishop’s death in 1339 by an unknown author, opens with a statement on Jón’s education before recounting four exempla set in the schools of Paris and Bologna:28 Hann var hinn sæmilegsti maðr í sinni stétt sem lengi man lifa á Norðrlöndum, því at sú var hans æfi lengst at hann fór, síðan hann hafði gjörz predikari í Nóregskonungs ríki, at studium mjök ungr allt út í París ok um síðir út í Bononiam. Kom hann svá aftr af skolis fullkominn at aldri, at hann var sá vísasti klerkr er komit hefir í Nóreg …

25 26 27 28

Lárentíus saga, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 449‒50. The saga’s b-​version reads “dýrr klerkr ok sæmiligr predikari”. “var hann michilshattar klerkr ok stadit leinge utlendiss j Bononia ok Paris ad studium.” Islandske Annaler, 267. On the author of Lárentíus saga, see Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, introduction to Biskupa sögur III, lxiv‒lxxv. Lárentíus saga, 383, states: “er þat mál manna at á Íslandi mundi varla verit hafa meiri latínuklerkar en þeir vóru” (it is generally agreed that there have not been greater clerics of Latin in Iceland than these two). Söguþáttur, 445.

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(He was the most excellent man of his rank in Scandinavia for periods to come, for he spent most of his life since becoming a Friar Preacher in Norway studying from a very young age as far as in Paris and then Bologna. When he returned from school as a grownup, he was the most learned cleric ever to have arrived in Norway …) Just as for Lárentíus saga and Lögmannsannáll, these are general remarks. The narrative framework of the exempla offers little detail either on what exactly his education covered. Jón was educated at two of the foremost universities of the age, but the modern convention of referring to them habitually as ‘universities’ is rather misleading and hides the fact that the schools of Paris and Bologna were worlds apart in most respects. Their organization was at opposites as well as their educational fields and relations to higher authority, especially papal authority. Neither can be truthfully described as a modern professor’s dream. In Bologna, the famed bedrock of Roman civil law studies since the days of Irnerius in the 11th century, students and teachers formed separate corporate entities, the universitas scholarum (divided into cismontanorum and ultramontanorum) and universitas doctorum for the various faculties. Until about the student days of Jón Halldórsson, the school operated basically as a private establishment relatively free from municipal control and without public fiscal support. Indeed, its student guilds held such leverage against the guilds of the teachers that not only would hired faculty need to cough up one hundred Bolognese pounds as a security deposit before being granted a leave during an academic year (that was roughly the equivalent of a law professor’s annual salary in cash) but the students could also, given circumstances, legitimately proceed with violence when exacting sworn oaths of return from teachers under contract.29 By comparison, our own regulations for a research leave suddenly become quite agreeable. As most universities, the school in Bologna was the legitimate offspring of major societal transformations that reshaped the mechanisms and cultures of power in high and late medieval kingdoms and city-​states alike. One of its central characteristics was the advancement of a centralized, bureaucratic, and hierarchical government to an unprecedented level, a government that relied heavily on written law and administration through records. Its underlying economic and demographic dynamics supplied city schools with flocks of ambitious young men, whose hopes for a prosperous career directed them into 29 Brundage, The Medieval Origins of the Legal Profession, 223‒30.

50 Pálsson governmental services, both civil and ecclesiastical. The age of the bureaucrat had begun, the ‘cleric’ in its most basic sense.30 In all core areas of Latin Christendom, university training in law became the sine qua non for obtaining higher or simply any administrative office of worth by the 13th and 14th centuries. Asking whether Jón Halldórsson studied canon law or civil law in Bologna is to be expected, yet the answer —​we do not know it —​is not of critical importance. Despite law faculties such as that of Bologna separating itself into distinct canon and civil law faculties as early as the first half of the 13th century, there could be no real separation, however, between the disciplines, neither in academia nor in practice. In the so-​called ‘classical age’ of canon law, roughly from 1140 to 1375, canon and Roman civil law entered symbiotic relations as two but complementary systems of ‘learned law’. Each borrowed concepts, ideas, and institutions from the other, and one was frequently made draw on the other when gaps had to be filled, whether for application, interpretation, or procedure. Consequently, from the second half of the 13th century onward, jurists made frequent references to ‘general laws’, ius commune, thereby assuming principles of Roman and canon law that were valid throughout Christendom, and which constituted Romano-​canonical concepts and practices that could legitimately be invoked when local custom or other applicable law was found wanting. Such was the interrelationship of canon and civil law court procedures, and such the points of convergence of jurisdictions and subject matters between the two fields in practice, that any serious legal training necessarily involved elementary training in the ‘other’ discipline of the learned laws. Or, as the adage of the age went: Legista sine canonibus parum valet, canoninsta sine legibus nihil, ‘Romanist without canon law isn’t worth much, a canonist without Roman law is worth nothing.’31 Whatever legal degree Jón Halldórsson may have acquired in Bologna —​we assume without evidence that he studied on the canonical side —​we may rest assured that he did his fair share of Roman civil law. In Bologna, then, our man was trained as a bureaucrat. As such, he was an ideal figure for high ecclesiastical office and fit for leading and defending church reform. Paris was different. The cluster of schools that formed the city’s university was renowned for its preeminence in theology, philosophy, 30 31

This transformation is succinctly treated in Moore, The First European Revolution, see esp. 112‒59. For an overview, see Brundage, Medieval Canon Law, 44‒69, and Brundage, Medieval Origins, 219‒83, both containing further references. On the early schools of law and Bologna, see Winroth, “Law Schools in the Twelfth Century.”

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and the liberal arts, while training in law became increasingly hard to come by.32 As an institution, it was foremost among what historians call ‘magisterial universities,’ most common north of the Alps and tightly controlled by its masters rather than student corporations. Legal studies, and especially that of canon law, had indeed flourished there until about 1210 when the famed Parisian school of decretists came to a rather sudden end. Shortly thereafter, in 1219, Pope Honorius iii issued the decretal Super specula which expressly forbade continued teaching of Roman civil law within the city of Paris. In his letter, the pope lamented the short supply of trained and qualified theologians while at the same time, he said, students were crowding the schools of law with hopes for careers of wealth and comfort. Further papal orders specifically forbade the monks and canons of Paris to study either medicine or Roman civil law, and anyone in care for souls for that matter. As pope and church authorities sought in this manner to strengthen the Parisian faculty of theology at the expense of legal studies, which they splendidly did in most respects, the law faculty of Orleans became de facto the University of Paris’s school of law. It is therefore somewhat of a geographical paradox that in Paris, Jón Halldórsson found himself in an educational and intellectual environment more closely under papal influence and authority than the Italian city of Bologna ever was in this period. Paris will have offered Jón a standard training in the basic canon of philosophy and theology, heavily influenced by logic, epistemology, and moral-​ political theory. What is perhaps a bit unexpected, however, is that he went from Paris to Bologna to study law instead of Orleans. As Christian Etheridge sketched in his previous chapter, the Norwegian clerical milieu out of which Jón emerged had close associations with both Paris and Orleans,33 and therefore one might have expected personal relations leading Jón logically from Paris to Orleans. What personal contacts and other immediate factors contributed to Jón’s Italian move remain uncertain, but perhaps it had to do with his ‘double identity’ —​he was a member of the cathedral chapter in Bergen while also being a Dominican. The learned brothers of the cathedral chapter went to Orleans to study law, not Bologna, and their community had an uneasy relationship with the Dominicans in Bergen. Jón’s ‘double identity’ is therefore rather perplexing and it is unclear if he identified, or was able to identify, as both at the same time. It is possible, however, that 32 33

See Brundage, Medieval Origins, 230‒37. See Christian Etheridge, “Canon, Dominican and Brother: The Life and Times of Jón Halldórsson in Bergen,” in this volume.

52 Pálsson his Dominican vocation was key to his choice of Bologna. Bjarni Loðinsson (Bjarne Lodinsson, d. 1311), who served for a while as royal chancellor to the Norwegian king in Bergen and was possibly a mendicant friar, had graduated as a doctor in Roman civil law from Bologna in 1292‒93 –​Scottish sources claim he was a Franciscan, be that true or not. Another of Jón’s contemporary countrymen studying law in Bologna and surely a Dominican was “Dominus Bernardus,” as local university records put it. Scholars have variously identified ‘Bernardus’ as either Bjarni Erlingsson (Bjarne Erlingsson, d. 1313), a major aristocrat who enjoyed a high-​profile career in service to the crown, or Bjarni Auðunsson (Bjarne Audunsson, d. before 1320), a member of the royal council and serving for a while as the king’s financial minister (féhirðir) and keeper of the royal seal.34 5

Conclusion

Jón Halldórsson belonged to what Erika Sigurdson has described as an Icelandic-​Norwegian clerical elite.35 Many of its members obtained higher education in theology and law, which was emblematic of the high medieval transformation of state and church. Jón himself was born in the 13th century, a flowering age of canon law and of growing relations between theology and law as academic and practical disciplines. During the period from roughly the middle of the 12th century to the beginning of the 14th, every pope of significance was trained in law and led a legal reform and growth of the church.36 By consequence, legal training became not only desirable but indispensable for all serious candidates for high ecclesiastical offices. Jón Halldórsson’s profile may be compared with that of other late-​medieval occupants of the Icelandic episcopal seats as far as sources permit.37 While many bishops of his era came to Iceland from a monastic background in Norway, and some with an educational record, there is hardly anyone to match his training in Paris and Bologna. He was thus both a product of his times and exceptional for his place.

34

35 36 37

Cf. a debate in Historisk Tidsskrift 51 (1972): Johnsen, “Hvem var den norske Bologna-​ skolaren ‘Dominus Bernardus’?”, Robberstad, “Var Bjarne Erlingsson i Bologna?”, and Johnsen, “Om Bolognaskolaren ‘Dominus Bernardus’: Svar til Knut I. Robberstad”, 70‒76, 312‒17, 318‒21, respectively. Erika Sigurdson, The Church in Fourteenth-​Century Iceland, see esp. 149‒75. Gunnar F. Guðmundsson, Íslenskt samfélag, 100–​101. For an overview, see Gunnar Kristjánsson, ed., Saga biskupsstólana, 35‒50, 409‒18.

Bishop Jón Halldórsson and Clerical Culture



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Árna saga biskups. In Biskupa sögur III, edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 1–​212. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Diplomatarium Islandicum: Íslenzkt fornbréfasafn, sem hefir inni aðhalda bréf og gjörninga, dóma og máldaga, og aðrar skrár er snerta Ísland eða íslenzka menn. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Jón Þorkelsson, Páll Eggert Ólason, and Björn Þorsteinsson. 16 vols. Copenhagen and Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1857−1972. Diplomatarium Norvegicum: Oldbreve til kundskab om Norges indre og ydre forhold, sprog, slægter, sæder, lovgivning og rettergang i middelalderen. Edited by Christian C. A. Lange, Carl R. Unger, H. J. Huitfeldt-​Kaas, Gustav Storm, Ferdinand Linthoe Næshagen, and Tor Ulset. 23 vols. Christiania/​Oslo: Kommisjonen for Diplomatarium Norvegicum, Norsk historisk kjeldeskrift-​institutt, Riksarkivet, 1847‒2011. Islandske Annaler indtil 1578. Edited by Gustav Storm. Christiania: Det norske historiske Kildeskriftfond; Grøndahl og Søns Bogtrykkeri, 1888. Islendzk Æventyri: Isländische Legenden, Novellen und Märchen. Edited by Hugo Gering. 2 vols. Halle: Verlag der Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses, 1882–​83. Járnsíða og Kristinréttur Árna Þorlákssonar. Edited by Haraldur Bernharðsson, Magnús Lyngdal Magnússon, and Már Jónsson. Reykjavik: Sögufélag, 2005. Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder fra vikingtid til reformationstid. 22 vols. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde og Bagger, 1956−78. Lárentíus saga. In Biskupa sögur III, edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 213–​441. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Norges gamle love indtil 1387. Edited by Rudolf Keyser, Peter Andreas Munch, Gustav Storm, and Ebbe Hertzberg. 5 vols. Christiania: C. Gröndahl, 1846−95. Söguþáttur af Jóni Halldórssyni biskupi. In Biskupa sögur III, edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 442–​56. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998.

Ásdís Egilsdóttir. Introduction to Biskupa sögur II. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 16. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 2002. Bagge, Sverre. From Viking Stronghold to Christian Kingdom: State Formation in Norway, c. 900‒1350. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2010. Black, Antony. Political Thought in Europe 1250‒1450. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Brundage, James A. Medieval Canon Law. The Medieval World. London: Longman, 1995. Brundage, James A. The Medieval Origins of the Legal Profession: Canonists, Civilians, and Courts. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2008.

54 Pálsson Bøe, Arne. “Magnus Lagabøtes landslov.” In KLNM, 11: 228‒31. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. Introduction to Biskupa sögur III, edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Gunnar F. Guðmundsson. Íslenskt samfélag og Rómakirkja. Kristni á Íslandi, vol. 2. Reykjavik: Alþingi, 2000. Gunnar Kristjánsson, ed. Saga biskupsstólana: Skálholt 950 ára —​2006 —​Hólar 900 ára. Akureyri: Hólar, 2006. Helle, Knut. Norge blir en stat 1130‒1319. Handbok i Norges historie, vol. 1, no. 3. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1964. Hjalti Hugason. Frumkristni og upphaf kirkju. Kristni á Íslandi, vol. 1. Reykjavik: Alþingi, 2000. Jakobsen, Alfred. Studier i Clarus saga: Til spørsmålet om sagaens norske proveniens. Årbok for Universitetet i Bergen, Humanistisk serie 1963, no. 2. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1964. Johnsen, Arne Odd. “Hvem var den norske Bologna-​skolaren ‘Dominus Bernardus.’ ” Historisk Tidsskrift 51 (1972): 70‒76. Johnsen, Arne Odd. “Om Bolognaskolaren ‘Dominus Bernardus’: Svar til Knut I. Robberstad.” Historisk Tidsskrift 51 (1972): 318‒21. Lára Magnúsardóttir. Bannfæring og kirkjuvald á Íslandi 1275‒1550: Lög og rannsóknarforsendur. Reykjavik: Háskólaútgáfan, 2007. Magnús Lyngdal Magnússon. “Kátt er þeim af kristinrétti, kærur vilja margar læra: Af kristinrétti Árna, setningu hans og valdsviði.” Gripla 15 (2004): 43‒90. Magnús Már Lárusson. “Kristenrettar —​Island.” In KLNM, 9: 304‒6. Magnús Stefánsson. “Frá goðakirkju til biskupakirkju.” In Saga Íslands, vol. 3, edited by Sigurður Líndal, 111‒257. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, Sögufélag, 1978. Magnús Stefánsson. Staðir og staðamál: Studier i islandske egenkirkelige og beneficialrettlige forhold i middelalderen, vol. 1. Historisk institutt, Universitetet i Bergen, Skrifter, vol. 4. Bergen: Historisk institutt, University of Bergen, 2000. Marteinn H. Sigurðsson. “The Life and Literary Legacy of Jón Halldórsson, Bishop of Skálholt: A Profile of a Preacher in Fourteenth Century Iceland.” MPhil diss., University of St Andrews, 1997. Moore, R. I. The First European Revolution, c. 970−1215. The Making of Europe. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2000. Orri Vésteinsson. The Christianization of Iceland: Priests, Power, and Social Change 1000‒1300. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000. Pennington, K. “Law, Legislative Authority, and Theories of Government, 1150‒1300.” In The Cambridge History of Medieval Political Thought c. 350‒1450, edited by J. H. Burns, 424‒53. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988. Robberstad, Knut I. “Var Bjarne Erlingsson i Bologna?” Historisk Tidsskrift 51 (1972): 312‒17.

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Sigurdson, Erika. The Church in Fourteenth-​Century Iceland: The Formation of an Elite Clerical Identity. The Northern World 72. Leiden: Brill, 2016. Winroth, Anders. “Law Schools in the Twelfth Century.” In Mélanges en l’honneur d’Anne Lefebvre-​Teillard, edited by Bernard d’Alteroche et al., 1057‒64. Paris: Éditions Panthéon-​Assas, 2009.

pa rt 2 Dominican Exempla and Saga Literature

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chapter 3

Bishop Jón Halldórsson and 14th-​Century Innovations in Saga Narrative: The Case of Egils saga einhenda ok Ásmundar berserkjabana Gottskálk Jensson By the early 14th century, when Icelandic sagas and poetry had matured into an impressive literary system of their own, a new generation of saga writers seem to have developed a taste for importing themes, motifs, and story patterns into their sagas that were evidently picked up from continental literature, mainly those of Latin and French. In the best of these sagas we see a cultivation of playful virtuosity in the style, an increased richness of descriptive language, alliteration, and parodic exaggeration; even an ironic narrative stance, though the underlying meaning of the irony may defy definition. Equally decisive for the development of the art of the Icelandic saga in this period is the emergence of structural unity. In the early sagas, what unity there was in the narrative as a whole tended to derive from the organic unity inherent in an individual’s life story, and a certain balanced vision of human existence. Though difficult to generalize, the narrative structure of these early sagas is highly episodic, rendering them rather amorphous as texts, a quality they share with most of contemporary Latin narratives. But starting from the 14th century, Icelandic literary artists begin increasingly to glue narrative episodes together, as it were, by employing such Aristotelian plot artifices as ‘hidden identity,’ ‘recognition,’ and even ‘apparent death’ (from classical romance), not to mention recurring significant items, such as rings, weapons, armor, and clothing. The most favoured structural innovation of this period was the bridal-​quest scheme, an overall story pattern so loved by saga writers and their audiences that it soon became near irresistible.1 Another very useful scheme of this kind, especially important for 1 The seminal work of Marianne E. Kalinke, Bridal-​Quest Romance in Medieval Iceland, surveys those chivalric (riddarasögur) and legendary sagas (fornaldarsögur) in which the quest for a wife generates the plot, establishing the common elements of these stories, proceding from Hrólfs saga Gautrekssonar, and arguing that the Icelandic bridal-​quest romances were written products, indebted to continental texts for their narrative structure as well as for particulars of plot and motif.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_005

60 Jensson the present study, is ‘frame narrative,’ sometimes called ‘Rahmenerzählung’ from its frequent use in German 19th-​century story collections. Although this structural artifice did not become popular in Icelandic sagas, it was occasionally used, and deserves study because of its potential for revealing the precise sources of the new practitioners of saga writing. As is well known, earlier scholars of Old Norse-​Icelandic literature were sometimes baffled by these innovative imports, into what they regarded as a pristine and indigenous tradition, complete and not in need of embellishment, though their censure differs substantially depending on whether they are 17th-​ century Lutheran historicists, 18th-​century belletrists, or the romantic nationalists cum folklorists of more recent times. What should not be forgotten, of course, in the often critical evaluation of 14th-​century innovations in Icelandic saga narrative, is the fact that from the early 12th century Icelandic literature had developed its distinctive features in a formative dialogue with Latin letters. Thus, by the 14th century it had already incurred a considerable debt to the figures and schemes of Old and New Testament narrative, Latin hagiography, historiography and pseudo-​historiography. It is not for nothing that The Prose Edda and Ynglinga saga derive the origins of Nordic culture from ‘Turkey’ and Troy, as did the Franks theirs, and later, the French in imitation of the Romans (who in turn built on early Greek legends about the foundation of Rome). Already in the 11th and 12th century the most learned Icelanders of whom we have records, the bishops Ísleifr and his son Gizurr, Sæmundr of Oddi, Teitr of Haukadalr, and his son Gizurr the lawspeaker, St Þorlákr, and Páll his successor as bishop of Skálholt, were educated not in Iceland or even Scandinavia, but on the continent or even in Norman England. Icelandic book production in general –​the Gothic script derived from the Carolingian script, and the advanced systems of denotation, abbreviations, and ligatures that came with it –​was imported to Iceland and borrowed from continental literacy. And yet no other literature has, to the same extent as the Icelandic medieval corpus, defined, both in prose and poetry, the peculiar qualities that count as the essence of Nordic or Germanic culture and identity. Indeed, the Icelandic skalds and saga writers almost single-​handedly created what we know as the Nordic and Germanic medieval heritage. Even the 14th-​century genre of rímur, Icelandic verse romances which in form and outlook ultimately derive from the French verse romance, respects the rules of Germanic alliteration and adheres strictly to the intricate and largely unique poetic diction of Iceland, as it is laid out in a systematic manner in The Prose Edda. It is precisely this cultivation of a Nordic style and subject matter in the entertaining masterpieces of the 14th century, while at the same time mining Latin and Romance culture for useful structural elements, which has proved challenging to analyze for many a critic

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of Icelandic literature, especially since the early 19th century, when culture became defined not in the ancient, medieval, and early modern manner as the cultivation of the arts and virtues of civilization, but as a Herderian primeval and pseudo-​biological condition, distinct for each ethnos and developed in an antagonistic relationship with the others.2 In most cases, we cannot trace the route by which innovations reached Iceland, since the sagas themselves are almost without exception anonymous, and we know very little about Latin and French works in Icelandic book collections. It is true that the study of fragments removed from bookbinding has progressed considerably in recent years, enabling scholars to reconstruct a fair number of lost books, but the vast majority of Latin and French books in Iceland was completely lost during the period of parchment reuse, which was at its most intense from the Reformation (about 1550) to about 1660. Manuscripts owned by individuals, chapels, churches, cathedrals, and monasteries were taken apart for reuse of the parchment leaves, most often in book binding, occasionally as writing material after being scraped clean, or simply thrown out or left to rot, until wasted on bonfires, as happened at Helgafell Abbey in the early 17th century, according to one famous witness. Only in rare cases do we have testimony about the individuals who functioned as agents of transmission between continental and Icelandic literary culture. In the following I wish to explore the role of one such mediator, Bishop Jón Halldórsson of Skálholt, particularly in relation to the frame narrative of Egils saga einhenda ok Ásmundar berserkjabana (‘The Saga of One-​ Handed Egill and Berserk-​Killer Ásmundr’), an Icelandic legendary saga (fornaldarsaga) that has hitherto not been associated directly with the bishop. This pearl of 14th-​century saga writing has not received the attention that it deserves from the students of Old Norse-​Icelandic literature. One reason for this may be that it eschews the Herderian ideals of culturally autonomous Icelandic literature.3 2 I am thinking of Johann Gottfried Herder’s (1744–​1803) secularising theories about language and nation as the outcome not of divine providence but of natural development, as expressed for instance in his important dissertation Abhandlung über den Ursprung der Sprache (1772), which set the tone for a radical future shift in mainstream attitudes towards the ‘nation’ as a language group and thus an organic or natural entity. 3 The manuscript transmission of this saga nevertheless shows it to have been popular as a reading material. Reykjavik, Stofnun Árna Magnússonar, am 343 a 4to (dated to 1450–​75) is of superior textcritical value for editing the text. Over 70 later mss. survive, and a set of ten rímur, Egils rímur einhenda or Eiglur (c.1500). Petter Salan published the saga in Uppsala 1693 with Latin and Swedish translations; repr. 1697. On the manuscripts available to Salan, see Grape, “Om bröderna Salan och deras handskriftssamling,” 229–​30.

62 Jensson 1

Egils saga einhenda ok Ásmundar berserkjabana

On the face of it, Egils saga ok Ásmundar (henceforth I shall mostly use this short title) is a typical ‘Viking’ saga, a narrative of Nordic warriors sailing in their longships or marching through septentrional forests to fight their opponents, while accepting help from dwarfs or giants of huge corporality, whom they have befriended. Deceptively indigenous, this narrative of adventure nevertheless features captive princesses and courtly warriors who rescue them, and stages dramatic hidden identity and recognition scenes, while the plot as a whole is arranged in a bridal-​quest scheme –​among the earliest such in Iceland. Some of the significant items in this saga are a flying carpet and an automated chess board. One episode includes a trip to the underworld in the style of ancient Greek comedy, another a Polyphemus narrative, ultimately derived from ancient epic. Last but not least, this saga has a rather uniquely executed frame narrative, a story-​telling arrangement worthy of a Boccaccio, but predating the Decamerone by several decades. The narrative frame encloses three subordinate tales, all of them defined by the text as “ævisǫgur” (‘biographies’/​ ‘life stories’), told by the protagonists themselves, with an important process or event taking place in the background of the frame story during the narration of the subordinate tales, a narrative deceit derived from Oriental story-​circles. Thus, Egils saga ok Ásmundar is a veritable showcase of 14th-​century innovations in Icelandic saga narrative and has all the characteristics of an epideictic piece, a rhetorical vehicle for displaying the virtuosity of its author. Egils saga ok Ásmundar tells the story of two young adventurers, equals in strength and valor, who instead of destroying one another in single combat become blood brothers. Their encounter is set in Russia, where the two daughters of King Hertryggr have been kidnapped by monsters, a hjasi and a gammr. Egill and Ásmundr assume the task of finding the princesses, and if successful are to receive their hands in marriage and a share in the kingdom. They travel to Jǫtunheimar, where they hunt in the woods for months, but not always with success. Finally, when they have gone without food for seven days, they are received hospitably by the trǫll Arinnefja, or ‘Stove-​Nose’, who lives in a cave in the wilderness with her daughter Skinnnefja. While her daughter is preparing a grautr (‘porridge’), she bids the young men tell their life stories and promises in turn to tell them what she herself has endured. Each of them relates a tale of fantastic trials, Ásmundr first, then Egill, and finally Arinnefja. The male heroes tell tales which resemble miniature versions of legendary sagas, such as Egils saga ok Ásmundar itself, referring to themselves in the third person and identifying themselves only at the end with such words as “endaz þar nú mín saga, at [ek] er þessi sami Ásmundr” (‘my story now ends, where it is revealed that

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I am this same Ásmundr,’ 8.14), and “ok er nú [lokit svá] sǫgu minni at sinni […] at ek var þessi enn sami Egill, sem nú hefi ek frá sagt um stund” (“and so my story ends for now, by revealing that I was that very same Egill, who for a while has been the subject of my story,” 11.9). At the end of each of the three stories, Arinnefja asks her daughter: “Hvat líðr nú grautnum, genta?” (‘How goes it with the porridge, my girl?’) First after the final story, is the grautr just right, and ready to be eaten. In contrast to the young men’s heroic lives, the giantess Arinnefja tells a rambling tale in the first person, peppered with references to her own good looks, giving a fantastic account of her growing up with seventeen older sisters who mob her. She summons the god Thor for help, who when he arrives sleeps with the oldest who is then killed by the others from jealousy and fear that she will conceive a child with the god. When the oldest is dead, Thor beds the next one who is killed too by her younger sisters, and so on and so forth, until Arinnefja, the youngest, is the only one left, and gives birth to her daughter, Skinnnefja. Arinnefja later claims that she also slept with the Lord of Darkness in the underworld, whom she identifies as Odin. In the final third of the saga, she presents Egill with his missing hand, which he had lost when he came to her aid in an earlier encounter. They have met before, but Egill did not recognize her at first. Only after the storytelling session does she reveal that in gratitude for his previous assistance, as told in Egill’s own life saga, she has kept his hand fresh with magical herbs. She then grafts the hand onto his arm. In Egill’s story Arinnefja was not identified by name, and in Arinnefja’s story the reader was not reminded that her royal opponents, Hringr and Ingibjǫrg of Smálǫnd, are actually Egill’s parents. It also turns out that the kidnappers of the two princesses of Russia were the two uncles of Arinnefja, who have abducted them and taken them to Jǫtunheimar to marry them. During the giants’ wedding feast in Jǫtunheimar, Egill and Ásmundr with the aid of Arinnefja and other giants kill her uncles, after which they return the princesses to King Hertryggr in Russia, bringing along much valuable booty from the trolls. Arinnefja was content with returning to Jǫtunheimar with quantities of butter and wild boar meat, which she prized as much as gold. In an earlier study of Egils saga ok Ásmundar, I was intrigued by the editor Åke Lagerholm’s characterization of the anonymous author of this saga as “ein wirklicher schriftsteller.”4 I argued there that the carefully crafted narrative structure of the saga was the most important quality contributing to its 4 Lagerholm, Drei Lygisǫgur, xlii: “Dass ein derartiges konglomerat von verschiedenen bestandteilen, wie die EÁ darstellt, in der form, wie sie jetzt vorliegt, nicht als eine mündliche erzählung (frásaga) existiert haben kann, ist offenbar. Sie ist im gegenteil am ehesten als eine

64 Jensson general impression of 14th-​century Kunstprosa rather than a traditional saga narrative. The three ævisǫgur of Ásmundr, Egill and Arinnefja are structurally predominant in the saga by being centrally positioned and comprising almost half of the text. They also stand out structurally as a novel import into this Icelandic saga, because they are schematically organized into a manifestly artificial frame. Frame narrative is originally an Oriental narrative innovation. It was introduced to the West through the cycle of the ‘Seven Sages,’ a vast premedieval and medieval literary tradition, represented in dozens of texts in numerous languages, and generally divided by scholars into an earlier Oriental group and a later European group. The basic situation in every ‘Seven Sages’ story is that a young prince, under a temporary vow of silence, is falsely accused of attempting to rape his stepmother, whose own advances he has spurned; he is saved from death by seven wise men, who delay his imminent execution by telling his royal father cautionary (and generally misogynic) tales, until the prince is released from his vow of silence and the truth about his evil stepmother comes out. Although this Oriental plot and the narrative frame of the Icelandic Egils saga ok Ásmundar may seem quite different at first, they in fact share a fundamental literary deceit, as will emerge more clearly in what follows. 2

The Cycle of the Seven Sages

In 1977 Donald K. Fry pointed out convincing resemblances between material in our saga and a Latin version of the ‘Seven Sages’ cycle entitled Dolopathos sive De rege et septem sapientibus (‘Dolopathos or Concerning the King and the Seven Sages’).5 The ævisaga told by One-​Handed Egill contains motifs from the hero’s dealings with a jǫtunn or a giant that resemble motifs in one of the stories in the Dolopathos, entitled “Polyphemus,” about a robber’s dealings with a cyclops. In both tales, the hero blinds the giant by pretending to heal his eyes or improve his eyesight, and after the escape he is tempted to come back for a golden ring promised him as gift by the giant. The struggle over the giant’s ring ends in both stories with the loss of a limb, the giant’s hand or the hero’s finger.

novelle zu betrachten, die ein wirklicher ‘schriftsteller’ geschrieben hat”; Gottskálk Jensson, “ ‘Hvat líðr nú grautnum, genta?’ Greek story-​telling in Jǫtunheimar,” 191–​203. 5 Fry, “Polyphemus in Iceland,” 65–​86; 73–​74. See also Naumann, “Das Polyphem-​Abenteuer,” 186–​89. The Latin text was last edited critically by Hilka in Historia septem sapientium; English translation in Gilleland, Dolopathos.

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There are many other similarities, but these tend to be shared with other less closely related versions of the Polyphemus story.6 The author of Dolopathos, Johannes, was a monk of the Cistercian abbey of Haute-​Seille (Lat. Alta Silva), located midway between the modern cities of Nancy and Strasbourg. He wrote the work in the decades before and/​or after 1200, a dating based on the period of office for his dedicatee, Bertrand, who was bishop of Metz in the years 1179 to 1212. The text is composed in a learned Latin style and includes numerous classical quotations and allusions. In the first quarter of the 13th century, Johannes’ Latin text was then adapted into Old French Romance, by way of 6,500 octosyllabic couplets. The French verse romance, Li Roman de Dolopathos, which was composed by a cleric named Herbert, is both an amplified and free, but nevertheless direct translation of Johannes’ work.7 In Dolopathos, the title character is a (fictitious) ruler of Sicily during the reign of Augustus, the first Roman emperor. The name is Greek and means ‘He-​ who-​suffers-​deception.’ The king has a son, Lucinius, who is educated, away from the court of Sicily, by the poet and philosopher Vergil. Now the mother of Lucinius dies, and at the end of his education he has a vision telling him that his father will remarry, and that he will be summoned. When this comes about, Vergil instructs him not to speak when he arrives at his father’s court. This is an extremely difficult task, but Lucinius nevertheless keeps his vow. At the court in Sicily, the reason for the young man’s muteness is judged to be sorrow over the loss of his mother. The king’s young wife, Lucinius’ stepmother, then offers to arrange a therapeutic stimulation for the boy to help him overcome his speechlessness. The cure is administered by a whole Harem of the queen’s maids and assistants, apparently a remnant of the story’s Oriental origin. But the excesses of luxury and sensual pleasures Lucinius is exposed to have no effect on him. Through his philosophical upbringing the prince maintains himself cold as a glacier. The young queen, who is both impressed and offended, desperately falls in love with him. Requiting his indifference with a deception, she falsely accuses him of attempted rape, and displays her own

6 Fry, “Polyphemus in Iceland,” 66–​68 and 73–​74, prints an English translation of both passages and provides a detailed comparison. 7 Li Roman de Dolopathos, eds. Brunet and De Montaiglon. Herbert’s version of the ‘Polyphemus’ story is found on pp. 184–​95. It contains the same details that are found in Johannes’ Latin Dolopathos, and seemingly no amplifications that are of interest for the study of Egils saga ok Ásmundar. There is another French redaction, called Roman des Sept Sages, on which Johannes of Haute-​Seille undoubtedly based his own much more elaborate redaction, but we find no direct resemblances between it and our saga.

66 Jensson and her maidens torn clothes and self-​inflicted bruises as proof. In result the prince is sentenced to death, but on seven occasions Prince Lucinius’ execution is halted by the arrival of a story-​telling Roman sage, who appears just before he is to be thrown naked on the fire. The eighth and final story is that of Vergil who sets everything straight. As the story is told by the Cistercian Johannes, the stepmother never gets to reply with stories of her own (unlike in the original cycle), and the whole account ends –​happily, we are to understand –​with the execution of the young queen and her serving maids by burning, on the very fire lit for the prince. When Lucinius ascends the throne years later, he who had been fostered by pagan philosophers is converted to the new religion of Christianity. Before this can happen though, the entire Christian doctrine must be expounded in considerable detail for the benefit of the prince and the reader. This end is, of course, the utile of the enterprise, while the adventure is the dulce, according to Horatian pedagogics. It is from Dolopathos that scholars ultimately derive the frame narrative in Boccaccio’s Decamerone, written just after the middle of the 14th century, while Chaucer, in the late century, borrowed his frame in the Canterbury Tales from him. Because of the early date of Egils saga ok Ásmundar, the Dolopathos and its French translation are the only likely sources of the meticulous frame narrative in our early 14th-​century Icelandic saga. We can be absolutely certain that this easily recognizable narrative structure was not reinvented independently in Iceland. The Dolopathos has certain features that set it apart from the majority of the Western versions of the ‘Seven Sages’ story. Its frame story, in which the separate stories are embedded, is unusually long and complex, and it contains only half the average number of stories, since the evil stepmother is given no stories with which to refute or combat those of the sages. The Dolopathos includes only eight or ten inserted stories, depending on how you count, each narrated by one of the ‘Seven Sages,’ the sixth story, ‘Latronis filii,’ containing additionally two subordinate stories (‘Polyphemus’ and ‘Striges’), with the final eighth by the philosopher Virgil. The figure of playfully killing ‘story time’ (the duration of time in the framing story) with the passing of ‘narrative time’ (the time it takes within the framing story to narrate the subordinate tales) is the main feature of the frame narrative in the ‘Seven Sages’ cycle. Here the point is to delay for seven days the prince’s execution through story telling. In Boccaccio’s Decamerone, the point of telling the stories is to make it easier to wait out a period of two weeks in the Tuscan countryside while the Black Death is raging in the city of Florence. Essentially, the same application of this figure occurs in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, where the characters entertain each other with stories to

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while away the time it takes to journey from the tavern to the cathedral of St. Thomas. We find partly similar applications of this figure in ancient literature, in Petronius’ Satyrica and Apuleius’ Asinus Aureus, where the tedium of traveling is assuaged by reciting poetry or telling stories. Yet here there is but one story or poem recited. By far the most famous example of this kind of delay through storytelling, which is akin to the ‘Seven Sages’ cycle, are the Tales of The Arabian Nights. The point is for Scheherazade ever to commence new stories, of which the king will be so eager to hear the conclusion that he postpones her execution for one more day. In Egils saga einhenda ok Ásmundar berserkjabana the story telling session in Jǫtunheimar during the cooking of the grautr is based on the same literary deceit as these examples from ancient and medieval literature.8 I have previously argued that France and especially Avignon was the most likely origin of Icelandic knowledge about the cycle of the ‘Seven Sages,’ as well as of Apuleius’ Asinus Aureus or the fragments of Petronius’ Satyrica.9 Such early Italian humanists and manuscript collectors as Francesco Petrarca (1304–​ 74) and Giovanni Boccaccio (1313–​75) had strong connections with Avignon.10 I pointed out that we could place the Icelandic chaplain Einarr Hafliðason (1307–​93) on the continent, when in 1345 he sojourned in Avignon and Paris, perhaps in connection with attempts to have Bishop Guðmundr the Good (1161–​1237) of Hólar canonized. I was tempted to see in Einarr Hafliðason’s trip to France an avenue of influence that might explain the transmission of Oriental narrative figures to Iceland. I even went so far as to express a desire to push the date of the saga two or three decades later, though, as it turns out there was no need for this.

8 9 10

Gottskálk Jensson, “ ‘Hvat líðr nú grautnum, genta?’ ” 196–​97. Gottskálk Jensson, “ ‘Hvat líðr nú grautnum, genta?’ ” 197–​98. In fourteenth-​century Iceland there was no lack of men with a clerical education and knowledge of Latin and Romance. One was Abbot Arngrímr Brandsson (d. 1361), who compiled a vita in Latin about Bishop Guðmundr. Another was his fellow Benedictine Abbot Bergr Sokkason (d. 1350), who translated a number of hagiographic texts from Latin and composed short Latin hagiographic panegyrics to Icelandic saints, e.g. St Þorlákr of Skálholt. Other learned clerics of the same circle were Brother Eysteinn Ásgrímsson (d. 1361), the likely poet of the much admired poem “Lilja,” a supplication to God and the Virgin Mary that surveys the fall of man and his redemption through Jesus Christ, which introduced into Icelandic vernacular poetry the teachings of Geoffrey of Vinsauf’s Poetria nova. Yet another was Bishop Laurentius Kálfsson of Hólar (d. 1331), a contemporary of Bishop Jón Halldórsson, and also a fluent Latinist, celebrated for his Latin poetry; and not to forget his chaplain Einarr Hafliðason (d. 1393), who is credited with writing the Saga of Bishop Laurentius, a major source on the Latin education of this period.

68 Jensson 3

Bishop Jón Halldórsson’s ævintýri “Af þrimur kumpánum”

What was missing in my picture was the figure of Bishop Jón Halldórsson, who came to Iceland in 1323, i.e. two years before Åke Lagerholm dates Egils saga ok Ásmundar. Jón had by then a relatively long career behind him on the continent, where he had studied for many years in Paris and Bologna. He is remembered in Icelandic letters as a fluent speaker of Latin, and as someone who could converse in that language as easily as in the vernacular. Jón was said to be a great preacher and a wonderful storyteller. These two activities were not distinct, since Dominican sermons sometimes included edifying, and yet entertaining stories. Many of Bishop Jón Halldórsson’s ævintýri (Fr. aventures) have origins in fabliaux, anonymous tales written by jongleurs in Northeast France between 1150 and 1400. Such stories were often bawdy in nature, and several of them were reworked by Boccaccio for the Decamerone, and by Chaucer for The Canterbury Tales. The Icelandic corpus of ævintýri was edited by Hugo Gering and published in Halle in 1882–​84 with a critical discussion and a German translation, together with the Icelandic retellings of almost all of the 30 stories from Petrus Alphonsi’s 12th-​century Disciplina clericalis. Gering’s collection as a whole amounts to 101 stories.11 As was shown by Alexander H. Krappe, the short biography of Jón Halldórsson, Jóns þáttr Halldórssonar biskups, preserved with the collection, contains an anecdote, which is also found in the 14th-​century Res memorandae (‘Memorable Tales’) of Francesco Petrarca (1304–​74).12 Jón Halldórsson narrates this story apparently about himself, Johannes Normannus, and his namesake, a schoolmate from England called Johannes Anglicus. The cathedral of Bologna had two large lions with gaping mouths by the church doors. Anglicus had dreamt that one of the lions came alive and bit off his right hand. When walking by the lion in broad daylight, he stuck his hand into the lion’s mouth, and fell dead –​from the sting of the snake aspis that was hiding in the statue’s mouth. Jón and Petrarca both studied in Bologna, but Jón was there before Petrarca, who first began working on his anecdotes in 1350, i.e. more than a decade after Jón died. We can thus rule out, categorically, that the bishop of Skálholt imitated Petrarca.13 As Marteinn H. Sigurðsson argues, the lionheads by the 11 12 13

Islendzk Æventyri, ed. Gering, 2 vols. Krappe, “Parallels and Analogues to the Death of Ørvar-​Odd,” 20–​35; Petrarca, Rerum memorandarum libri; Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “Djöfullinn gengur um sem öskrandi ljón,” 341–​48. Biskupa sögur III, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 445–​56. Islendzk Æventyri, 1:86–​87.

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cathedral entrance in Bologna are not just a literary motif, but a historical reality from the time of Jón Halldórsson and Petrarca.14 Bishop Jón’s version of the story then preserves its original setting in Bologna by the entrance of the cathedral, while Petrarca seems to preserve the correct animal, a scorpion. Possibly both stories rely on a common source, otherwise lost. In my paper of 2003, I discussed Icelandic parallels to the frame narrative of Egils saga ok Ásmundar, the closest one in Flores saga konungs ok sona hans, but the structural and phraseological similarity of the frame narrative in this indigenous Icelandic chivalric saga is best explained with it being a later composition, and likely under direct influence from Egils saga ok Ásmundar.15 What was not clear to me at this point is that the earliest example of a comparable narrative frame to that of Egils saga ok Ásmundar, complete with a set of subordinate tales structured in the identical manner to this work’s story-​telling session in Jǫtunheimar, is not found in a full-​ blown saga narrative, but in one of Bishop Jón Halldórsson’s short exempla or ævintýri, copied by the monks of Þingeyrar Abbey on the leaves of the manuscript Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am 657 a-​b 4to (late 14th century).16 I am referring to the narrative “Af þrimur kumpánum” (‘Of three Companions’) (am 657 a-​b 4to, 71-​73r) printed as nr. 82 in Gering’s collection.17 This story shows, in the words of Krappe, that “Jón Halldórsson was the first Northern story-​teller to introduce the device of frame stories, made famous through Boccaccio’s Decamerone and ultimately derived from the Orient.”18 The story is about three young nobles, a prince, the son of a duke, and the son of an earl, who after a day of chasing deer in the woods are separated from their attendants, and forced to spend the night alone in the forest. The prince asks the two others, how they should while away their time without food or drink –​“Hvat höfum vèr at gleðjaz viðr, síðan hvárki er at bíta né súpa?” They bid him decide. The prince says: ‘I suggest that each of us companions tell that chapter of his life story, where he felt that he was worst off, and you, son of an earl, begin’ (“Þat legg ek til, at hverr várr kumpána segi þann kapitula ór æfisögu sinni hvar hann þóttiz minst vera staddr, ok skalltu jarlssun hefja söguna”).19 The motif of relating one’s life story, ævisaga, focusing on the greatest danger 14 15 16 17 18 19

Marteinn H. Sigurðsson, “Djöfullinn gengur um sem öskrandi ljón,” 341–​48. Gottskálk Jensson, “ ‘Hvat líðr nú grautnum, genta?’,” 195. Guðbjörg Kristjánsdóttir, “Handritalýsingar í benediktínaklaustrinu á Þingeyrum,” 298. Islendzk Æventyri, 1:232–​39. Krappe, “The Italian Origin of an Icelandic Story,” 105. Islendzk Æventyri, 1:232.

70 Jensson or difficulty one has ever come into, was identified and described already in the 19th-​century by the learned folklorists of that time. Gering, in the second volume of Islendzk Æventyri, refers to a study by Reinhard Köhler where the motif is discussed, and adds that Köhler has drawn his attention to the Dolopathos of Johannes de Alta Silva, as edited then by Hermann Oesterlay (Strassburg 1873).20 What is referred to here is the story of the sixth wise man, ‘The Sons of the Bandit’ (‘Latronis filii’), of which the first tale is the ‘Polyphemus,’ already discussed above. When a famous and evil bandit, who has miraculously reformed himself and turned to virtuous and honorable ways, sees his sons caught by the queen’s men after disrespecting their father’s wishes, that they stay away from brigandry, the queen offers to set his sons free, if he tells her the worst misfortunes or dangers which ever happened to him while he was a bandit (“refer michi casus uel pericula que tibi, dum latrocinia exerceres, unquam acciderint grauiora”).21 Krappe and Gering do not associate Jón Halldórsson’s ævintýri “Af þrimur kumpánum” with Egils saga einhenda ok Ásmundar berserkjabana, despite the similarity of the setup with three storytellers, who after hunting in the wilderness relate their adventurous ævisögur focusing on the worst dangers they have experienced, while waiting for something to eat. Even the final formulation of each of these three sagas resemble the closing words of Ásmundr and Egill (“endaz þar nú mín saga,” “ok er nú [lokit svá] sǫgu minni at sinni”). The son of the earl says: “ok er úti mitt efni” (‘and my story is completed’, 233), and the son of a duke rounds off his tale with the phrase “ok lýkr þar minni sögu” (‘and there ends my story’, 236), while the prince says “Læt ek lykta sögu mína” (‘I end my story’, 238). These resemblances between the narrative frame of the translated ævintýri “Af þrimur kumpánum” and that of the contemporary Egils saga ok Ásmundar, indicate strongly that the latter has borrowed from the former, which in turn was under direct influence from the Dolopathos novel of Johannes de Alta Silva. When we add to this, that specific motifs from one of the imitated stories in the Dolopathos turn up in Egils saga ok Ásmundar, one may venture so far as to state with near certainty that the authorial intention behind Egils saga ok Ásmundar was to write a Nordic Viking saga which exploits the device of frame narrative, according to the model of the Dolopathos-​inspired ævintýri “Af þrimur kumpánum,” or even its lost Latin source. The latter is in fact made

20 21

Islendzk Æventyri, 2:174; Köhler, “Ueber J. F. Campbell’s Sammlung gälischer Märchen,” 98–​126. Johannis de Alta Silva Dolopathos, ed. Hilka, 73.

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quite plausible after the identification by Fulvio Ferrari of a textual detail in Egils saga ok Ásmundar apparently borrowed directly from the Latin or French Dolopathos.22 But why would such high-​ranking prelates of the Roman Church in Iceland as Bishop Jón Halldórsson and his associates spend their time on such idle (from a religious perspective) pursuits as the writing of adventure sagas? This is a question difficult to answer with any certainty, but we at least know that they did, and that Bishop Jón was loved for his story telling, which he practised as the Dominican preacher that he was. We would like his primary purpose to be a celebration and renewal of the art of the Icelandic saga, but maybe we should rather look for a more religious purpose. Could it be for instance Christian entertainment (skemmtun) during Lent, the forty-​day period before Easter devoted to fasting, abstinence, and penitence in imitation of the temptations of Christ in the wilderness? The tone of Egils saga ok Ásmundar would seem to correlate well with the spirit of that trying period for the congregation. In any case, there must have been an occasion, when such charming and intelligent literature found an appreciative audience. 4

Clári saga and Egils saga ok Ásmundar

The most substantial Icelandic saga attributed explicitly to Jón Halldórsson is Clári saga (found in the same manuscript from Þingeyrar Abbey, am 657 a-​b 4to), which is traditionally classified as a chivalric saga (riddarasaga), although it defines itself generically as an ævintýri. It is associated with Bishop Jón Halldórsson in the prologue, where it is stated that Clári saga is a rendering of a Latin poem that Jón Halldórsson brought with him from France. There is no good reason to doubt the veracity of this claim, even if the original Latin poem has not been found, since the vast majority of medieval Latin manuscripts has perished. Jón Halldórsson is known to have studied in Paris and Bologna, and “his stories are clearly of non-​Scandiavian origin” in the words of

22

Egill relates that the “jǫtunn” had a hundred billy goats as well as some she goats, and that he made sure, when he slaugthered some, that they never lost their number. Lagerholm, Drei Lygisǫgur, 44. As Ferrari points out, this is hardly intelligible, until one reads in Johannes de Alta Silva, that the giant had a thousand sheep, which he counted every day before he slaugthered the fattest one and put the rest out to pasture, only through magic to receive their full number back in the evening. The same details are found in the French version. Ferrari, “Possible Worlds of Sagas: The Intermingling of Different Fictional universes in the Development of the Fornaldarsögur as a genre,” 280–​83.

72 Jensson the folklorist Alexander H. Krappe.23 Until now scholars have not related Egils saga ok Ásmundar with our Jón Halldórsson, who so impressed Icelanders with his erudite story telling. But this might be because Jón Halldórson’s Latin scientia from the schools of Paris and Bologna sits less comfortably with the apparently urnordische elements of this Icelandic Viking saga than with the continental matière of Clári saga. Beyond the dating of the Egils saga ok Ásmundar to the years just after Jón Halldórsson arrived in Iceland, a dating which incidentally was established on entirely different grounds than the narrative structure, there are other good reasons for believing in the involvement of Jón Halldórsson. The protagonist of Clári saga is a certain Master Perus (“meistari Perus”). This figure, who is both a magician and a cleric of the schools, is known from other tales surviving from medieval Iceland, although their continental sources have not been revealed. A set of three tales about Perus, very much in the adventurous manner of Clári saga, was printed by Hugo Gering in his 1882 collection of ævintýri, under the title “Af meistara Pero ok hans leikum” (‘Of Master Perus and his Delusions’). The third and last of these tales features a time-​measuring task, happening in the background of an illusory event, namely the cooking of a rooster, which is reminiscent of the cooking of grautr in Jǫtunheimar, while Egill, Ásmundr, and Arinnefja narrate their ævisǫgur to one another.24 In the story, Master Perus encounters a certain righteous duke who rules over ships, but has no kingdom. The encounter takes place in the time of day when the cooks are preparing the food; they are partitioning a rooster for the table of the duke (“Þetta var þann tíma dags er Perus fann hertogann, er matsveinar matbjoggu: pörtuðu þeir einn hana til borðs fyrr sögðum hertoga”). Master Perus wishes to test the duke’s righteousness and offers him a kingdom for the annual payment of ten marcs of gold. The other says, he would gladly pay two hundred marcs of gold for a kingdom. Perus now brings about unexpectedly the death of a king in a neighboring kingdom, and then arranges for the duke to marry his widowed queen and take the kingship. For his service, Perus receives the specified payment from the righteous duke. A year later, Perus again visits the former duke now become king, to demand his annual ten marcs, which the other is still eager to pay him. This he does every year with decreasing favour at the court, until a few years later there is an uproar in the 23 24

Krappe, “The Delusions of Master Perus,” 217. In any case the burden of proof lies with those, who wish to reject Clári saga’s own account of its origin. An attempt has been made by Hughes, “Klári saga as an Indigenous Romance,” 135–​64. Islendzk Æventyri, 1:223–​27. I wish to thank Marteinn H. Sigurðsson for suggesting this parallel during the conference on Jón Halldórsson in Skálholt 13th–​14th May 2016.

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palace, when Perus asks for his payment, because the courtiers feel that he is attempting to subdue the king to vassalage by making him pay taxes. The king, too, is outraged and threatens to kill Perus. Now Master Perus reminds the king of their original encounter and the contract they made, when the other still had a reputation for being a righteous man. After gaining his kingship, says Master Perus, the former duke has changed his ways and become greedy and unjust: ‘and because I have now for a while been testing you, to discover who you are, I believe the rooster is boiled’ (“ok fyrir því at nú hefi ek prófat þik hverr þú ert, trúi ek at haninn sé soðinn”). It turned out that the duke was still beside his ships and that he had not been away for a longer while than the rooster was cooked, though he fancied himself a king for the duration of some years, possessing a queen and governing a country; yet all of this was but an illusion and contrary to truth, because his senses had been tricked, seeing that Perus wanted to find out how he would conduct himself when able to do as he pleased.25 The fact that Master Perus’ delusion in Clári saga, which Jón Halldórsson found in France and translated from a rhymed Latin poem (or was the poem originally written in Old French Romance, a Latin-​derived language that did not yet have a name in the early 14th-​century?), uses a cooking process in the background, not unlike that used in Egils saga ok Ásmundar, where grautr is cooked in the background while stories are told, thus lends further support to the hypothesis that our saga originated in the scriptorium of Bishop Jón Halldórsson in Skálholt, at some time during his stay in Iceland from 1323 to 1339. 5

The Troublesome Dichotomy of ‘indigenous’ and ‘alien’

Perhaps it should not come as any great surprise, after all, to find traces of Bishop Jón Halldórsson’s involvement in the supposedly Nordic material of an Icelandic legendary saga, since it is demonstrably not a 14th-​century notion, but rather a much more recent one, that the imported southern matiére of Jón’s ævintýri should be considered of an entirely different order from the stuff 25

“Bregðr nú því við, at hertoginn er við skip sín, ok eigi hafði lengri stund verit en haninn var soðinn, þar sem hann þóttiz kóngr vera svá at árum skipti, ok eiga drottningu ok hafa landzstjórn, ok allt þetta var ekki utan sjónhverfing ok í mót því sem satt var, þvíat villt var fyrir honum skynsemi, ok villdi Perus prófa hverr hann væri þegar hann mætti sem hann villdi.” (Islendzk Æventyri, 1:231).

74 Jensson of Icelandic sagas. If we consider the mixed collections of sagas in preserved manuscripts, and keep in mind the influence from continental literature on Icelandic saga writing from the 12th century onwards, there is probably no valid reason to regard Jón Halldórsson and his Dominican storytelling as alien imports into Icelandic literature. To complicate the picture even more, the man Jón Halldórsson may himself in fact have been of Icelandic parentage, on his mother’s side. He grew up in Bergen, in the Dominican friary located on the island Holmen, where he may well have been resident from boyhood. In addition to Bishop Jón’s patronymic, Halldórsson, we have his matronymic, Freygerðarson, which is used in an annalistic entry on his arrival to Iceland in 1323: “kom vt Jonn byskup Freygerdarson” (‘Bishop Jón, son of Freygerðr, arrived in Iceland’). The source of this entry, Flateyjarannáll, from the manuscript Flateyjarbók (Reykjavik, Stofnun Árna Magnússonar, gks 1005 fol.), is considered among the most reliable sources on 14th-​century history. The name of Jón’s mother, Freygerðr, is only attested in Iceland, hence the case was made long ago that Jón was Icelandic on his mother’s side.26 I believe that there exists another source, which possibly provides further identification of Bishop Jón’s maternal line. In The Great Saga of Ólafr Tryggvason a short narrative is preserved, called “Sýn Brestis” (‘The Vision of Brestir’), which was originally written in Latin at the end of the 12th century by Brother Gunnlaugr of Þingeyrar (“svá hefir bróðir Gunnlaugr ok sagt í latínu”) but is now only extant in a problematic Old Norse-​Icelandic translation.27 The fullest version of the “Vision of Brestir” is found in the already mentioned manuscript Flateyjarbók, where we find the additional information that ‘this Brestir, who had the vision, was the grandfather of Bishop Jón and later lived in Þykkvibær in Ver’ (“þessi brestir er synína sa var afui jons byskups ok bio sidan j þykkva bæ j verí”).28 Þykkvibær in Álftaver was the first Augustinian house in Iceland, founded in 1168. The scribe of this passage, Jón Þórðarson, is also the man who wrote Flateyjarannáll, where Bishop Jón’s matronymic “Freygerðarson” is provided. But here he gives no matronymic, only claims that Brestir was the grandfather of ‘Bishop Jón,’ presumably because there was only one obvious candidate. To identify this Bishop Jón, we have two other bishops of Skálholt to choose from: Jón Indriðason (1339–​41) and Jón Sigurðsson (1343–​48). Sigurðsson sat four years in office in Iceland, became unpopular and does not seem to have 26 27 28

Islandske Annaler indtil 1578, ed. Storm, 395. See discussion in Hughes, “Klári saga,” 137–​38. Gottskálk Jensson, “Revelaciones Thorlaci episcopi,” 162–​68. Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta, ed. Ólafur Halldórsson, 65.

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been worth remembering. Indriðason had been a priest on the Island of Selja in Norway, and died only a year and a half after he arrived in Iceland. Thus, the most obvious candidate is our Bishop Jón Halldórsson, or rather Freygerðarson, who because of his learning and literary involvement in Iceland was apparently still familiar enough at the end of the 14th century, when Flateyjarbók was written, to be referred to simply as “Jón biskup.” The fact that the scribe of Flateyjarannáll, Jón Þórðarson, who apparently knew Bishop Jón Halldórsson well enough to name him after his mother, Freygerðr, which is information not preserved elsewhere, is the same scribe who added this information to “Sýn Brestis,” lends additional credence to the identification. Bishop Jón Halldórsson evidently had an Icelandic mother by the unusual name of Freygerðr Brestisdóttir. If Halldór, Bishop Jón’s father, was a man of the cloth, as was his maternal grandfather, this would perhaps make it more understandable why he grew up with the Dominicans of Bergen. Bishop Jón had a brother, Finnr, who was also a man of the cloth in Bergen, and likely had the same upbringing as he.29 Thus we apparently have additional evidence for the presumed Icelandic nationality of Jón’s parent, Freygerðr, which could perhaps explain why this highly educated man of high standing within the international Church of Rome, no doubt the best educated of the many Norwegian bishops serving in Iceland, chose to settle for a diocese at the edge of the world, and why he alone among these men enjoyed an intimate relationship with the literary culture of Iceland, to which he contributed actively as well as inspiring other Icelandic writers in their work.

Bibliography



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Biskupa sögur III. Edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Catilina and Jugurtha by Sallust and Pharsalia by Lucan in Old Norse. Rómverjasaga: AM 595 a-​b 4to. Edited by Jakob Benediktsson. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde og Bagger, 1980. Dolopathos, sive De rege et Septem Sapientibus. Edited by Hermann Oesterley. Strassburg: K. J. Trübner, 1873. Drei Lygisǫgur. Egils saga Einhenda ok Ásmundar Berserkjabana, Ála flekks saga, Flóres saga konungs og sona hans. Edited by Åke Lagerholm. Altnordische Saga-​Bibliothek 17. Halle (Saale): Max Niemeyer Verlag, 1927.

29

Gering, introduction to Islendzk Æventyri, 2:vi–​vii.

76 Jensson Fornaldar sögur Nordrlanda. Edited by Carl Christian Rafn. Vol. 3. Copenhagen: Popp, 1829–​30. Fornaldar sögur Norðurlanda. Edited by Guðni Jónsson. Vol. 3. Reykjavik: Íslendingasagnaútgáfan, 1954–​59. Fornaldarsagas and Late Medieval Romances: AM 586 4to and AM 589 a-​f 4to. Edited by Agnete Loth. Early Icelandic Manuscripts in Facsimile 11. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde and Bagger, 1977. Fornaldarsögur Norðrlanda. Edited by Valdimar Ásmundarson. 3 vols. Reykjavik: Sigurður Kristjánsson, 1885–​91. Fornaldarsögur Norðurlanda. Edited by Bjarni Vilhjálmsson and Guðni Jónsson. Vol. 3. Reykjavik, 1943–​44. Fostbrödernas Eigils och Asmunds Saga af gamla Gothiskan Uttolkad och med nödige Anmärkningar Förklarad af Petter Salan. Edited and translated by Petter Salan. Uppsala, 1693. Islandske Annaler indtil 1578. Edited by Gustav Storm. Christiania: Det norske historiske Kildeskriftfond; Grøndahl og Søns Bogtrykkeri, 1888. Islendzk Æventyri: Isländische Legenden, Novellen und Märchen. Edited by Hugo Gering. 2 vols. Halle: Verlag der Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses, 1882–​83. Johannis de Alta Silva Dolopathos sive De rege et septem sapientibus nach den festländischen Handschriften kritisch herausgegeben. Edited by Alfons Hilka. Historia septem sapientium ii. Sammlung mittellateinischer Texte 5. Heidelberg: Carl Winter, 1913. Li Roman de Dolopathos, publiépour la première fois en entier d’après les deux manuscrits de la Bibliothèque Impériale. Edited by Charles Brunet and Anatole De Montaiglon. Paris: P. Jannet, 1856. Ólafs saga Tryggvasonar en mesta. Edited by Ólafur Halldórsson. 3 vols. Editiones Arnamagnæanæseries A 1–​ 3. Copenhagen: Ejnar Munksgaard & C.A. Reitzel, 1958–​2000. Petrarca, Francesco. Rerum memorandarum libri. Edited by G. Billanovich. Edizione nazionale delle opere di Francesco Petrarca. Firenze: Sansoni, 1943.



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Ferrari, Fulvio. “Possible Worlds of Sagas: The Intermingling of Different Fictional universes in the Development of the Fornaldarsögur as a genre.” In The Legendary Sagas: Origins and Development, edited by Ármann Jakobsson, Annette Lassen and Agneta Ney, 271–​89. Reykjavik: University of Iceland Press, 2012. Fry, Donald. “Polyphemus in Iceland.” In The Fourteenth Century, edited by Paul E. Szarmach and Bernard S. Levy, 65–​86. Acta 4. Binghamton: State University of New York Press, 1977.

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Gilleland, Brady B. Dolopathos or The King and the Seven Wise Men. Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies 2. Binghamton/​New York: Center for Medieval and Early Renaissance Studies, 1981. Gottskálk Jensson. “Revelaciones Thorlaci episcopi: Enn eitt glatað latínurit eftir Gunnlaug Leifsson munk á Þingeyrum.” Gripla 23 (2012): 133–​75. Gottskálk Jensson. “ ‘Hvat líðr nú grautnum, genta?’ Greek story-​telling in Jǫtunheimar.” In Fornaldarsagornas struktur och ideologi. Handlingar från ett symposium i Uppsala 31.8.–​2.9 2001, edited by Ármann Jakobsson, Annette Lassen og Agneta Ney, 191–​203. Nordiska texter och undersökningar 28. Uppsala: Institutionen för nordiska språk, 2003. Grape, Anders Wilhelm. “Om bröderna Salan och deras handskriftssamling.” Bibliografiska undersökningar. Festskrift tillägnad Claes Annerstedt den 7 juni 1914. Nordisk tidskrift för bok-​och biblioteksväsen 1 (1914): 207–​38. Guðbjörg Kristjánsdóttir. “Handritalýsingar í benediktínaklaustrinu á Þingeyrum.” In Íslensk klausturmenning á miðöldum, edited by Haraldur Bernharðsson, 227–​311. Reykjavik: Miðaldastofa Háskóla Íslands, 2016. Hughes, Shaun F. D. “Klári saga as an Indigenous Romance.” In Romance and Love in Late Medieval and Early Modern Iceland. Essays in Honor of Marianne Kalinke, edited by Kirsten Wolf and Johanna Denzin, 135–​63. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Library, 2008. Kalinke, Marianne E. Bridal-​Quest Romance in Medieval Iceland. Islandica 46. Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1990. Krappe, Alexander H. “The Delusions of Master Perus.” Scandinavian Studies 19:6 (1947): 217–​24. Krappe, Alexander H. “The Italian Origin of an Icelandic Story.” Scandinavian Studies 19:1 (1946): 105–​9. Krappe, Alexander H. “Parallels and Analogues to the Death of Ørvar-​ Odd.” Scandinavian Studies 17:1 (1942): 20–​35. Köhler, Reinhold. “Ueber J. F. Campbell’s Sammlung gälischer Märchen.” Orient und Occident 2 (1864): 98–​126, 294–​331, 486–​506, 677–​90. Marteinn H. Sigurðsson. “Djöfullinn gengur um sem öskrandi ljón.” Skírnir 178 (2004): 341–​48. Naumann, Hans-​Peter. “Das Polyphem-​Abenteuer in der altnordischen Sagaliteratur.” Schweizerischen Archiv für Volkskunde 75, Heft 3/​4 (1979): 173–​89. Schlauch, Margaret. Romance in Iceland. London: Allen & Unwin, 1934. Schröder, Franz R. “Skandinavien und der Orient 1” and “Skandinavien und der Orient 2.” Germanisch-​romanische Monatsschrift 8 (1920), 204–​15, 281–​90. Seelow, Hubert. Die isländischen Übersetzungen der deutschen Volksbücher. Reykjavik: Stofnun Árna Magnússonar á Íslandi, 1987.

78 Jensson Strömbäck, Dag. “Uppsala, Iceland, and the Orient.” In Early English and Norse Studies presented to Hugh Smith, edited by A. Brown and P. Foote, 178–​90. London: Methuen, 1963. Wessén, Elias. “Drei lygisögur herausgeg. von Åke Lagerholm.” Arkiv för nordisk filologi 46 (1930): 187–​92.

chapter 4

Holy Ministry in Old Norse ævintýri Hjalti Snær Ægisson Jón Halldórsson’s dual role as bishop-​raconteur is what makes him exceptional in Icelandic church history. A valid depiction of the man and his mindset can only be obtained by evaluating two separate groups of sources in context with one another: On one hand, the charters and official historical documents from his rule, and on the other hand, the fanciful tales he is credited with having composed and translated. This is no easy task for various reasons; the two types of sources have unlike objectives and both are shrouded in the uncertainty that accompanies age-​old traditions. Producing episcopal documents, much like composing exemplary tales, typically requires preference for fixed rules over originality. By consequence, seeing Jón Halldórsson through 14th century documents requires reading extensively between the lines. But even if a full portrayal of Jón Halldórsson is largely unthinkable, a comparison of sources can lead to fruitful interpretations of his career. Many of the ævintýri attributed to Jón are descriptions of diverse clergymen, from scheming renegades to faithful servants. It is certainly a more diversified description of holy ministers than those we find in Heilagra manna sögur and Biskupasögur, despite the exemplary nature so often associated with the ævintýri tradition. Jóns þáttr is a seminal text in this respect, a string of four episodes, three of which Jón himself is the protagonist. Presumably composed shortly after Jón’s death, the þáttr is in some sense an absolute combination of cleric and tale, an occurrence where the preacher steps into the shoes of the characters from his own ævintýri. The narrator cites Jón as his informant on the events described and thereby indirectly aligns his collection with European sermon tales from the previous century. Most major storytellers of the 13th century exempla tradition include in their collections stories they claim to have heard from other clerics.1 When a reference is made to spoken language in the introduction to an exemplum with such generic markers as audivi (I heard), relatum est (it is told) or mihi recitata (I was told), the source is often a cleric, and normally a member of a more senior clergy than the actual reporter.2 1 Bremond et al., L’«exemplum», 86. 2 Jacques Le Goff saw this mode of expression as the main indicator of what he called “the time of the exemplum” in The Medieval Imagination, 78–​80.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_006

80 Ægisson Since the exempla tradition is highly dependent on the clergy as its information source, it is perhaps no surprise that the stories themselves abound with heroes and villains from the ranks of the church. The Jón Halldórsson ævintýri are mostly analogous in that vein; several of the extant stories recount the lives of hermits, pastors, prelates, and patriarchs. In what follows, I choose to divide my material into three categories by using the protagonist’s vocation as my gauge: Monks, bishops, and popes. However, it should be noted that the vocation as such is not always an essential ingredient of the narrative. The protagonist’s role within the church hierarchy frequently has no intrinsic links with the story’s message or overall structure. Those stories that are available in two or more versions may illustrate this when the holy office is different from one version to another. The ævintýri “Af einum greifa,” preserved in two versions, is a case in point.3 In one version, the admonishing cleric who underscores the virtue of modesty is called einsetumaðr (a hermit), but in the other version he is called prédikari (a preacher). The two titles have different connotations; a hermit has clear ties to the desert fathers and the centuries-​long customs of eremitic life, while the title ‘preacher’ is coterminous with the more recent mendicant orders. However, these connotations are not amplified in the two versions and seem totally interchangeable within the context of the story. The relative meaning of a particular clerical office remains undecided in each case, but some general remarks can be made regarding Old Norse ævintýri as a whole. 1

Monks

When Latin exempla were initially employed as preaching tools on a large scale in the late 12th century, the genre had already developed for centuries in European monasteries. Stories from the monastic life occur often in exempla collections, even in those collections that were composed outside monasteries and intended for lay audiences. A monk or hermit can easily be presented as a supreme epitome of Christian virtue, regardless of the intended reader’s social status. Holding an important level within the church hierarchy, the monk is a symbolic foundation of every other office. When monks are promoted to a higher post, their integrity is frequently measured in terms of a willingness to preserve the monastic outlook. This well-​known trope finds its way into accounts of St Þorlákr (1133–​1193), who is said to have remained a Canon 3 Gering, Islendzk Æventyri, 1:136–​46.

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Regular “in clothing, waking, fasting and praying” after being consecrated as bishop of Skálholt in 1178.4 A monastic protagonist is a safe way to underscore an anecdote’s exemplarity and tales from the monastery were considered useful in various circumstances. As in monastic sources in general, some knowledge on everyday life in the monastery may be deduced from these ævintýri that portray monks and their reality. We are allowed a glimpse into the rituals and liturgies that were practiced in the monastery, the scholarly work of the inhabitants, their protocols, and power relations. In some sense, these stories can be interpreted as coequal with Latin custom books (consuetudines), writings composed within single monasteries as addenda to the broader rules (regulae).5 Such interpretation is not without problems, however, if the aim is to gain information on monastic life in Iceland. The Icelandic monasteries were considerably smaller and therefore incomparable to their counterparts in mainland Europe, the vast institutions that may have served as background to the most celebrated monastic exempla. Still, some core elements of the larger monastic rules must have applied to every monastery, great or small. When we look for these universal components in the ævintýri, a simple dichotomy takes shape: Tales describing the contact between the monastery and the wider world, opposed to tales that seem chiefly intended as an inward contribution, pleading a lesson that pertains to the organization of the monastery itself. Intercessory prayer is an important constituent of monastic life, a service that originated among Benedictines in early Christianity but took a more systematic form in Cistercian houses during the 12th century. Intercession on behalf of a monastery’s founder or benefactor is a Cistercian priority from the period, a feature mentioned in the ævintýri “Of Absalon’s greed.”6 In this text, Archbishop Absalon is said to have founded Sorø Abbey by allocating his own patrimony. More correctly, the abbey was founded as a Benedictine house in 1142 but supplanted with Cistercian monks by Absalon two decades later. This inaccuracy might stem from the translator’s endeavour to simplify or adapt his material to an Icelandic reality where the Cistercians never emerged. The order and its principles are however not at issue in the text and the Abbey actually only appears at the end when Absalon visits the monks from his grave and asks them to pray for his soul. His request stands in Latin verse within the Old Norse text: “Sora, Sora, pro me supplex ora!”7 The Absalon ævintýri 4 “… bæði í klæðabúnaði, í vökum og föstum og í bænahaldi.” Þorláks saga A, ed. Ásdís Egilsdóttir, 67. Cf. Gottskálk Jensson, “Íslenskar klausturreglur,” 44. 5 Derwich, “Benedictines,” 138. 6 “Af ágirnd Absalons erkibiskups og af einum bónda,” Islendzk Æventyri, i:70–​74 (Tubach 3564). 7 Ibid, l. 81–​82.

82 Ægisson is preserved in two versions with two different conclusions and the younger one clearly demonstrates a value shift concerning intercession. In the version preserved in am 624 4to (written c.1500) the narrator speculates that there is little doubt that Absalon made it to heaven, despite his crimes, since the power of intercessory prayer by such a potent institution as Sorø Abbey is beyond question. The younger version is preserved in am 578 k 4to (written c.1700) and firmly proclaims that the intercession was useless, “for even if the brothers were well intentioned, the late Absalon had no benefit from their prayers, for in hell no redemption is possible.”8 The shift exhibits a Protestant view where intercessory prayer is no longer considered effective. Lay funerals are another important element of monastic life, both as a link to the outside world and a source of income for monasteries. Wealthy individuals often donated large portions of their inheritance to monasteries with the intent of having one’s bodily remains buried in their cemetary. The arrangement was well known in Iceland as can be seen in Lárentíus saga, where the Benedictine monks at Munkaþverá wrongfully claim the inheritance of Solveig Loftsdóttir after her death in 1307. Lárentíus Kálfsson, who had not yet been consecrated as bishop during the time, tried to plead the cause of the parish church at Bægisá, the rightful inheritor of Solveig who had had a confidential relationship with the Bægisá priest during her lifetime. Lárentíus’ activity is violently curtailed when the monks at Munkaþverá drag him out of their church after he has publicly prohibited any further worship within their premises.9 The events are interpreted in the saga as the commencement of hostility between Lárentíus and Jörundr Þorsteinsson, bishop at Hólar, who supports the monks at Munkaþverá. One of the ævintýri in am 624 4to, the third part of a medley on the incumbency of Pope Boniface viii, has a certain similarity to the case of Solveig.10 The tale introduces two adjacent churches on the outskirts of Rome, one ruled by a priest and the other by a monastery. Quarrels frequently arise between the two churches when well-​to-​do people in the neighbourhood pass away. When the funeral of a prosperous farmer is held in the church where the priest is in charge, the monks from the nearby monastery arrive and demand that the farmer should be buried at their monastery. A great uproar ensues, since the deceased man had distinctly requested to be buried by the priest, until the local bell-​ringer resorts to violence and flogs the monks with a heavy wooden cross until they flee. The incident is reported to Pope 8 9 10

“… því þó bræður væri honum um gott skylldugir, stoðaði honum ekki framliðnum kraptr þeirra bæna, því ór helvíti er eingi endrlausn.” Ibid, l. 87–​88. Biskupasögur III, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 281. “Af Celestino ok Bonifacio páfum,” Islendzk Æventyri 1:81–​83 (Tubach 22, 4794, 731).

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Boniface viii who decrees in the priest’s favour. The tale is unknown from other sources but it is easily interpreted as a comic staging of a legal provision from 1323, issued by Archbishop Eilífr of Nidaros.11 It confirms what Lárentíus Kálfsson had alleged sixteen years earlier: The departed are to be buried by their parish church unless they are known to have expressed a wish otherwise. Some of the monastic ævintýri seem to be of limited relevance to readers outside the monastery. These are mainly tales translated from collections that were composed for a specific rule or monastery. Among the oldest of such collections is Collectaneum exemplorum ac visionum Clarevallense, a string of tales accumulated around 1170–​80 with the intention of educating newcomers at Clairvaux.12 It is the oldest known source of the tale of the abbot in the well which found its way into Speculum morale in the 14th century. The Old Norse version of this tale is found in am 657 a-​b 4to, the manuscript which includes the largest extant collection of ævintýri. A cautionary story on the risks of sloppy administration, the tale of the abbot in the well illustrates the Deity’s disapproval of nepotism. An abbot summons a group of monks to his deathbed and persuades them to vote his nephew to succeed him. The narrator never implies that the young nephew is unfit for the task, but his election is made on false grounds and consequently a penalty follows. When the abbot-​elect is having a leisurely walk a few days after his uncle’s death, a harsh cry is heard from a well in the cloister garden. It turns out to be the soul of the recently dead abbot, writhing in pain caused by burning flames. The young nephew understands the seriousness of the matter and resigns immediately. Although this tale deals with a specific issue of the monastery, a more extensive message can be apprehended. In Guðmundar saga D, the longest preserved biskupasaga from the 14th century, a considerable effort is put into convincing the reader that Guðmundur’s election as bishop was valid and lawful.13 A clergyman’s authority is largely dependent on the legitimacy of his appointment. 2

Bishops

Since the establishment of the diocese of Skálholt in the mid-​11th century, the office of bishop was the highest ministry within Iceland. The 13th century 11 12 13

di 2: 528. Jón Halldórsson may have instituted the document for the see of Skálholt as Jón Þorkelsson explains in his introduction, although his second successor, Bishop Jón Sigurðsson (in office 1343–​48), is also considered responsible. Berlioz and de Beaulieu, introduction to Collectio exemplorum cisterciensis, xiii. Biskupasögur II, ed. Ásdís Egilsdóttir, 42–​43.

84 Ægisson saw the creation of biskupasögur, or ‘bishops’ sagas,’ ambitious literary compositions in which the deeds of the first and most important bishops of each diocese are recounted and explicated. No other churchly office drew similar attention in the written works of the period and when bishops appear in Old Norse ævintýri it should be kept in mind that the office presumably had more extensive connotations in the minds of anticipated readers than any other churchly office. All the same, the two literary genres have more discrepancies than similarities with respect to the office and its appurtenances. Most importantly, the understanding of time is different; the biskupasögur are essentially regional history with no fixed endpoint.14 Their frame of reference is the linear evolution of a single district, whereas the narrative time of ævintýri is more determinate. As a literary figure, the bishop is in some sense at odds with the aims of the ævintýri tradition; real-​life bishops accept their authority largely from the accumulated aura of their predecessors in each diocese. Thus, Bishop Jón Vilhjálmsson Craxton begins one of his letters in 1430 by defining his intention as homage to “God and his most sacred mother, Holy Mary, and God’s most sacred confessor Jón bishop of Hólar, our patron, and holy bishop Guðmundur.”15 The local saints of the diocese of Hólar are called upon by their successor to confirm his authority. The ævintýri bishops, on the other hand, are mostly devoid of this correlation with their predecessors. Their actions occur in a temporal vacuum and carry a meaning that tends toward the universal. To underline their general meaning, they are often nameless –​with a few important exceptions. From the first stages of Christianity, bishops’ power is localized and regional. The oldest dioceses in Europe correspond to the ancient Roman civitates and every official demarcation of bishops’ position is based on geographical definitions that originate in the Roman empire. In Old Norse ævintýri, localized power is often a key element in the description of bishops, and their identity is to some extent defined by rule of land. The aforementioned tale of Archbishop Absalon displays this feature. Accordingly, it verifies the importance of judicial power in the archbishop’s incumbency as the conflict of the tale is depicted in terms of a court case. Archbishop Absalon quarrels with a poor farmer over the ownership of land. The farmer owns one half of a fertile field but the other half belongs to the church in Lund. Absalon repeatedly begs the farmer to sell his part but to no avail. After a last-​ditch effort he decides to formally split the field in two with a fence, but when the men are measuring their parts an accident

14 15

Ásdís Egilsdóttir, “Eru biskupasögur til?” 213. Diplomatarium Islandicum (hereinafter di) 4:411.

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occurs. With taut rope between them, the farmer tugs his end too harshly so Absalon slips and falls on his face. A bloody wound opens and Absalon furiously excommunicates the farmer for assaulting a cleric. The farmer’s only way to avoid excommunication is instantly assigning his part of the field to the Lund church. On his deathbed many years later, the farmer commissions a priest to visit Absalon and summon him to a trial before the heavenly court on grounds of his injustice. When Absalon receives the subpoena he falls dead on the spot. Like the tale from the Pope Boniface cycle, the Absalon narrative seems likely to have some affinity with Icelandic church politics of the writing period. Both include the topic of violence against clerics, a major issue in 13th century Canon law which was formally defined in the see of Skálholt as a cause for automatic excommunication in Jón Halldórsson’s Bannsakabréf in 1326.16 The arguments of the anonymous farmer who feebly attempts to oppose Absalon evoke memories of a conflict that took place in 1271, supposedly a few decades before the tale was translated, i.e. the later staðamál, a dispute over church lands where a bishop of Skálholt clashes with a simple farmer. The circumstances of the two cases are quite similar. Bishop Árni Þorláksson claims that Oddi, a landholding in South Iceland, rightfully belongs to the church. His opponents, three brothers called Steinvararsynir, cling to the traditional arguments that the Oddi estate has belonged to their family since Sæmundur Sigfússon, their ancestor, declared nearly two centuries before that it should perpetually be the legitimate property of his offspring. Similarly, the farmer of the Absalon tale claims that his part of the field is a family heritage and should lawfully remain his property. Like the Steinvararsynir, he pleads age-​long family possession in defense against an overpowering minister. Curiously, the tale’s empathy lies with the farmer instead of Absalon, even if it is highly probable that the translation is made in an ecclesiastical environment. An objection that is deemed insignificant in Árna saga biskups is considered fully valid and appropriate in this tale. In certain cases, an ævintýri set in an antique past nevertheless reflects the canonical questions of the 13th and 14th centuries. In the ævintýri “Of Bishop Augustine,” excommunication and absolution are the problems at issue.17 16

17

di 2:584. The first incident of a penalty clause imposed against attackers of clerics that came into effect in Iceland is found in a letter from Archbishop Eysteinn Erlendsson to the Icelandic bishops in 1173; cf. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, “Um afskipti erkibiskupa af íslenzkum málefnum,” 38–​39. “Af Augustino biskupi,” Islendzk Æventyri 1:26-​27 (Tubach 1928). The protagonist named Augustine is said to have been bishop at Damascus, but no further evidence is found of that historical individual. In two different versions, the tale’s main character is Augustine

86 Ægisson The narrative opens with an account of a dissenting knight of Damascus who refuses to pay tithes of his income to the church, despite his great wealth. He is excommunicated but shows no feeling of guilt since he is considered “careless and not very pious.”18 One day, Bishop Augustine visits the knight’s town and begins his sermon in the local chapel by ordering anyone who has unsettled charges to leave the premises. Immediately, a few graves in the cemetery open and bones of dead sinners abandon the church site. One of the animated corpses is notably larger than the others and his presence causes great anxiety in the crowd standing outside the fence. When inquired by Augustine, the dead giant claims to have been a knight during his earthly existence but his crime was a total disregard of paying tithes. The living knight watches the scene and instantly repents by genuflecting in front of the bishop. The tale ends with Augustine absolving the dead crowd and the corpses return to their graves. The main topic of the Augustine ævintýri is violation rather than compensation. Most of the narrative revolves around the crime of not paying tithes, but the redemption itself is only addressed shortly in the end. The problem of absolving a dead person is considered at length in Árna saga biskups in relation to a certain Oddr Þórarinsson. The events of that segment clarify the Augustine tale to some extent, partly because the two texts are composed within a short period of time and partly because Árna saga alludes to a statute that the ævintýri translator must have been familiar with. According to Árna saga biskups, a directive was issued by Archbishop Jón rauðr of Niðarós in 1271 where the two bishops of Iceland were requested to absolve Oddr Þórarinsson, sixteen years after his death. After some protraction, the two bishops meet and deliberate over the affair. Bishop Árni of Skálholt tries to convince Bishop Jörundr of Hólar that the enterprise is lawful. His main evidence is a legal provision from Compilatio tertia, a canonical code collected under the auspices of Pope Innocent III.19 The law provides that absolution of people who die excommunicated should not be ruled out if the deceased person is known to have expressed repentance. Applying the weapon of excommunication requires a certain amount of flexibility because the Earthly Church (ecclesia militans) tends to lag behind the Heavenly Church (ecclesia triumphans). One must not exclude the possibility that the Almighty retains some information that the living do not and the clergy must therefore be prepared to modify

18 19

of Canterbury and consequently the time of events must be around 600 ad; cf. Speculum Laicorum, 39 (177a) and Ci nous dit 2, 442. “… gálauss ok eigi mjök guðhræddr.” “Af Augustino biskupi,” l. 3. Biskupasögur III, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 74.

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their decisions. The text from Innocent iii clearly states that God’s verdicts are eternal and unchanging while the decisions of the church may fluctuate and vary according to public opinion and the spirit of the times.20 The Augustine ævintýri can be seen as an illustration of the idea; by absolving the dead knight Augustine is fundamentally correcting the verdict of one of his predecessors. 3

Popes

The emergence of the Pope as Christian world leader is examined in a tale of Pope Marcellinus (d. 304).21 The narrative describes an atmosphere of antique uncertainty; the Pope is still only a bishop among other bishops and his supremacy has not been totally defined. Only after consulting a synod of bishops in Puglia does Marcellinus realize that he has the authority to adjudicate in his own case; the tale is essentially an etiology of the principle that “the first See is judged by no one.”22 During the 12th and 13th centuries, the case of Marcellinus was primarily significant as contribution to the debate on whether popes could lawfully resign and it is referred to on that grounds in Decretum Gratiani.23 It is entirely in keeping with a statement found in an Old Norse fragment of Pétrs saga postula, written in the late 13th century: As far as dignity and grandeur are concerned, Peter the Apostle is so superior to any other man that he who sits on his throne, the Pope in Rome, is everlastingly more glorious and grandiose than anyone else. He is to judge humankind yet shall himself be judged by no one.24 20

21 22

23 24

“Collectionis Tertiæ Decretal.,” v.xxi.ii, in Antonii Augustini Archiepiscopi Tarraconensis Opera Omnia, iv: 591–​92. The code is printed as part of the collected works of Antonio Agustín y Albanell (1516–​1586), archbishop of Tarragona, since he is the author of the enclosed commentary. We cannot be sure that this is the exact paragraph that Árni reads to convince Jörundr but the context seems entirely applicable. “Af Marcellino páfa,” Islendzk Æventyri, 1:16–​19 (Tubach 3851). “Prima sedes a nemine iudicatur.” The Latin maxim occurs in sources as old as the 5th century ad but it gains a firm footing in Canon law during and after the reign of Charlemagne. As can be imagined, it was not easily put in agreement with the instances when Popes were deposed for heresy, as often happened between the 8th and 11th centuries; cf. Schatz, Papal Primacy, 73–​75. Ullmann, “Medieval Views Concerning Papal Abdication,” 130. The practice of having instances from ancient and early Christian history reflect current affairs had been customary since the 11th century; cf. Tierney, “Religion and Rights,” 166–​67. “Er sú virðing og tign Petri postula um alla menn aðra fram að sá skal ávallt æðstur og tignastur vera í öllum heiminum er í hans stóli situr, páfinn sjálfur í Rómaborg, og skal hann

88 Ægisson The tale of Marcellinus is inextricably linked to an image-​conscious papacy of the late 11th century. Figuratively, it is a psychological projection of the papal office, an analogy from antiquity used to supplement events from a recent past. Its oldest extant version is Decretum, a piece on ecclesiastical law and moral theology, by Bonizo of Sutri (c. 1045–​95). The author was one of the foremost supporters and consultants of Pope Gregory vii (c. 1015–​85). Bonizo presents Marcellinus to describe the origin of the Pope’s total judicial power from his own standpoint as direct witness to the Investiture Controversy. But other issues are of equal relevance. Bonizo’s account of Pope Gregory vi (d. 1048), one of Gregory vii’s instructors, is markedly similar to what he has to say about Marcellinus, even to the degree of similarity in wording.25 Both were popes who resigned; Gregory vi was forced to surrender the papal throne after charges of simony at a synod in Sutri in 1046. Just like Marcellinus at the earlier synod, Gregory vi lets the attendants decide his fate and gets a similar reply: No one is capable of judging the Pope other than he himself. Much like the bishops in Puglia, the participators in Sutri refer to Peter the Apostle while simultaneously appealing to Gregory’s own conscience. Both gatherings end with the Pope’s resignation.26 The theory of papal infallibility, although not dogmatically defined until the First Vatican Council in 1869–70, had its antecedents in the 14th century. Most notably, Boniface viii’s Unam sanctam, issued in 1302 is commonly seen as an early proclamation of the Pope’s spiritual superiority. Even if opinions of this kind hardly find expression in Old Norse sources, few sources demonstrate them better indirectly than the ævintýri. A common function of the Pope as he is portrayed in ævintýri is as a judicial power, and the Pope’s decrees are by and large at odds with public expectations. In the ævintýri “From a lady and her son,” we find a rare instance of a papal decree supported by thorough documentation.27 A variation of the foundling archetype, the tale gives an account of an orphan child left on a church door. Found and raised by an unrelated woman, the boy grows up to be an admired priest. When he dies after

25 26

27

um alla dæma þessa heims en engi um hann.” Postola sögur, ed. Unger, 215; cf. Widding, “En fragment af Stephanus saga,” 143–​71. Philip Jaffé (1819–​70) explicates this similarity in his introduction to Ad amicum, another work by Bonizo, cf. Monumenta Gregoriana, 599–​600. The very wording of the resignation is similar in both of Bonizo’s narratives: iudico me deponendum in the case of Marcellinus and iudico me submovendum in the case of Gregory vi. Pope Gregory vi is the protagonist of another ævintýri, “Af Gregorio páfa” (Islendzk Æventyri 1:50–​51) where his papacy is described in an entirely different fashion. The most original source of that tale is Gesta Regum Anglorum by William of Malmesbury. “Af einni frú ok hennar syni,” Islendzk Æventyri 1: 74–​75 (Tubach 468).

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a short career his legitimate mother is found and after she has consulted the foster-​mother it dawns on them that neither of the two had the boy baptized in his infancy. The question arises whether the boy’s soul is saved or not and the moot point is appealed to then-​Pope Innocent iii. The text’s conclusion is a direct quotation from a letter he writes to the two women and the storyline is displaced by a theological exposition. Innocent reaches the conclusion that the priest’s faultless life is what has guaranteed his salvation. The tale has no direct parallels in other sources, but Gering specifies a corresponding papal letter in his commentary.28 It is a reply to a formal inquiry regarding a priest who faces losing his rank after it turns out he had never been baptized. The Pope’s verdict is benevolent, he simply declares that the priest should be baptized as soon as possible and then continue his pastoral work.29 The similarity is clear and there is undoubtedly a chance that this letter is the direct inspiration of the tale. As descriptions of the Holy See, Old Norse ævintýri normally partake in solemn regard for this highest office of Christendom. The genre offers a variety of snapshots from the history of the Papacy, accounts of diverse men in diverse times, facing an ever-​changing world from the standpoint of their unchanging position. But even if solemnity is the general rule, a single ævintýri distinguishes itself on grounds of its comic qualities: The story of the priest and the bell-​ringer.30 The levity of this anecdote lies in a distorted legalism, an observation of a legal dispute which is hard to settle since the litigants themselves don’t understand how to apply the appropriate law.31 The story begins with a night of carousing where a priest and bell-​ringer sit drinking. A quarrel breaks out and escalates into a fistfight where both men are severely bruised. The next morning the priest expels the bell-​ringer from his post due to the fact that he has committed violence against a cleric, but the bell-​ringer replies that the same thing must apply to the priest himself since the bell-​ringer also belongs to the clergy. When the dispute reaches stalemate, the bell-​ringer is sent on an errand to find the Pope in Rome and obtain his verdict on the issue. After some hardships and misfortunes on his journey, the bell-​ringer is granted absolution from the Pope and the priest is promised the same.

28 Islendzk Æventyri 1:63. 29 Innocentius iii, „Ferrariensi episcopo,“ 864–​66. 30 “Af presti ok klukkara,” Islendzk Æventyri 1:267–​72 (Tubach 567). 31 The tale is unmistakably related to “Ketils þáttur,” a segment from Guðmundar saga D where a lowly official goes to visit the Pope through the agency of his next superior. The affiliation of the two texts was originally pointed out by Cederschiöld, “Eine alte Sammlung Isländischer Æfintýri,” 134.

90 Ægisson The Pope’s judgement in the story of the priest and the bell-​ringer is essentially an exception to the rules, and in that regard, the tale is similar to many other Old Norse ævintýri. From the perspective of Icelandic church history, however, the tale is easily seen as a parodic observation on a recent clause in Canon law, namely Jón Halldórsson’s Bannsakabréf.32 The narrative is driven by the idea of an automatic excommunication, a punishment that takes place without a specific judgment. The priest and the bell-​ringer are helpless vis-​à-​ vis the law, unsure of how to apply it to their own case, and the tale’s comicality arises from that uncertainty. Presuming that the tale can be traced to Jón Halldórsson, his legacy takes on a somewhat inscrutable atmosphere, where Jón Halldórsson the storyteller ridicules what Jón Halldórsson the bishop institutes. The irony is evident but like so much in the life of Jón this is by no means unthinkable.

Bibliography



Primary Sources

Antonio Agustín y Albanell. “Collectionis Tertiæ Decretal.” In Antonii Augustini Archiepiscopi Tarraconensis Opera Omnia iv, 591–​92. Lucca, 1769. Biskupasögur II. Edited by Ásdís Egilsdóttir. Íslensk fornrit, vol. 16. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 2002. Biskupasögur III. Edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. Íslensk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Bonizo Sutri. “Bonithonis episcopi Sutrini Liber ad amicum.” In Monumenta Gregoriana. Bibliotheca rerum Germanicarum 2, edited by Philip Jaffé, 577–​689. Berlin: Weidmann, 1865. Ci nous dit: Recueil d’exemples moraux. Edited by Gérard Blangez. 2 vols. Paris: Société des anciens textes français, 1979–​86. Diplomatarium Islandicum: Íslenzkt fornbréfasafn, sem hefir inni að halda bréf og gjörninga, dóma og máldaga, og aðrar skrár er snerta Ísland eða íslenzka menn. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Jón Þorkelsson, Páll Eggert Ólason, and Björn Þorsteinsson. 16 vols. Copenhagen and Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1857−1972. Innocentius iii. “Ferrariensi episcopo.” In Patrologia Latina 215, edited by J.P. Migne, 864–​66. Paris: J.P. Migne, 1844. 32

In the instance from Árna saga mentioned earlier, we find the notion that a bishop is capable of absolving a person excommunicated ipso facto, but the tale of the priest and the bell-​ringer seems to be based on the assumption that only the Pope can perform such an absolution.

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Islendzk Æventyri: Isländische Legenden, Novellen und Märchen. Edited by Hugo Gering. 2 vols. Halle: Verlag der Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses, 1882–83. Postola sögur: Legendariske fortællinger om apostlernes liv. Edited by C.R. Unger. Kristjanía, 1874. Speculum Laicorum: Edition d’une collection d’exempla, composée en Angleterre à la fin du xiiie siècle. Edited by J.-​Th. Welter. Thesaurus exemplorum 5. Paris: A. Picard, 1914. Widding, Ole. “En fragment af Stephanus saga (AM 655, 4to XIV B), Tekst og kommentar.” Acta philologica Scandinavica 21 (1952): 143–​71.



Secondary Sources

Ásdís Egilsdóttir. “Eru biskupasögur til?” Skáldskaparmál 2 (1992): 207–​20. Berlioz, Jacques and Marie Anne Polo de Beaulieu. Introduction to Collectio exemplorum cisterciensis in codice Parisiensi 15912 asseruata, cccm 243, xiii–​xxx. Turnhout: Brepols, 2012. Bremond, Claude, Jacques Le Goff and Jean-​Claude Schmitt. L‘«exemplum». Typologie des sources du Moyen Âge occidental 40. Turnhout: Brepols, 1996. Cederschiöld, Gustav. “Eine alte Sammlung Isländischer Æfintýri.” Germania 25 (1880): 129–​42. Derwich, Mark. “Benedictines: General or Male.” In Encyclopedia of Monasticism, edited by William M. Johnston, 136-​143. London and New York: Routledge, 2000. Gottskálk Jensson. “Íslenskar klausturreglur og libertas ecclesie á ofanverðri 12. öld.” In Íslensk klausturmenning á miðöldum, edited by Haraldur Bernharðsson, 9–​57. Reykjavik: Miðaldastofa Háskóla Íslands, 2016. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. “Um afskipti erkibiskupa af íslenzkum málefnum á 12. og 13. öld.” Saga 20 (1982): 28–​62. Le Goff, Jacques. “The Time of the Exemplum (Thirteenth Century).” In The Medieval Imagination, 78–​80. Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1988. Schatz, Klaus. Papal Primacy: From its Origins to the Present. Collegeville: The Liturgical Press, 1996. Tierny, Brian. “Religion and Rights: A Medieval Perspective.” Journal of Law and Religion 5 (1987): 163–​75.

­c hapter 5

Clári saga and Its Continental Siblings: A Comparative Literary Approach to an Old Problem Védís Ragnheiðardóttir The 14th-​century Icelandic chivalric saga Clári saga tells of the dealings of the emperor’s son Clárus and the princess Serena.1 When Clárus is told of the beautiful and wise Serena, he becomes enamored and decides to ask for her hand in marriage. When he approaches her with his proposal, she humiliates him by tricking him into making a fool of himself. Furious over the treatment, Clárus seeks revenge with the help of his tutor, the Arabian Master Perus. Clárus returns to Serena’s court in disguise and is able to outwit, bed, and subsequently marry Serena by taking advantage of her avarice. But Clárus’s thirst for revenge has not been quenched, and Serena is subjected to twelve months of poverty and torment, whereupon Clárus reveals to Serena how he and Perus have tricked her and Serena is granted again her royal status. The saga ends with a lengthy epilogue in which the lesson that women should draw from Serena’s exemplary behavior during her twelve-​month ordeal is made clear. In a prologue that precedes the saga, Jón Halldórsson, friar of the Dominican order and bishop of Skálholt from 1322 until his death in 1339, is said to have found the narrative (frásǫgn) written in Latin verse in France: Þar byrjum vér upp þessa frásǫgn, sem sagði virðuligr herra Jón byskup Halldórsson, ágætrar áminningar, –​en hann fann hana skrifaða með látínu í Frannz í þat form, er þeir kalla „rithmos“, en vér kǫllum hendingum.2 Here we start this narrative that the honorable Bishop Jón Halldórsson told, blessed be his memory, but he found it written in Latin in France, in the form that they call “rithmos,” but we call hendingar (metre or rhyme).3

1 This research was supported by The Icelandic Research Fund (173811-​051). 2 Clári saga, ed. Cederschiöld, 1. 3 All translations are mine except where otherwise stated.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_007

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As this Latin verse narrative has never been found, there is no consensus among scholars as to whether the prologue is factual. Many have taken it at face value, categorizing Clári saga as a translated chivalric saga, while others have been more cautious, arguing that at least some of the claims made in the prologue may be mere topoi. Others still have completely rejected the claims as false. Recently, Shaun Hughes set out to prove that Clári saga is an indigenous Icelandic work by Jón Halldórsson.4 His article has been very influential, and following it the idea that Clári saga is indigenous has gained ground. Hughes bases his arguments on linguistic evidence, but previously the language and style of the saga have been used to argue the opposite –​that Clári saga is a translation. However, arguments from both sides have been built on insufficient data as little comparison with other texts has been included. Such a comparison would have revealed that much of the vocabulary that has been argued to be either indicative of a translation or proof that the saga is an original Icelandic composition is commonly found in the Old Norse-​Icelandic literary corpus. Furthermore, this narrow focus has resulted in the many similarities between the language and style of Clári saga and texts connected with the so-​ called Benedictine school of authors, active in the north of Iceland in the 14th century, having been overlooked. When compared with these texts, it becomes apparent that several features of the language of Clári saga are predominantly found in the texts associated with the Benedictine school. This may suggest that, at least in its present form, Clári saga is the product of this school. As the linguistic approach has proved to be inconclusive at best, the time has come to seek other means to establish whether Clári saga is based on a foreign source, as claimed in the prologue, or if it is indigenous. In this article, I will take up the question of the origins of the saga, but rather than focusing on the language I will use a comparative literary approach. It has long been known that Clári saga is related to tales of the atu 900 tale type, also known as the ‘King Thrushbeard’ tale type, but this connection has neither been fully examined nor has it been utilized in the search for the saga’s origins. Here, I will compare Clári saga with two of the earliest variants of the atu 900 tale type, Konrad von Würzburg’s 13th-​century Die halbe Birne and Luigi Alamanni’s early 16th-​century Bianca di Tolosa, supplementing my analysis with examples from later variants. This comparison reveals that not only does Clári saga closely follow the pattern of the atu 900 tale type, but it also shows striking similarities with Die halbe Birne and Bianca di Tolosa. Finally, 4 Hughes, “Klári saga as an Indigenous Romance.”

94 Ragnheiðardóttir I will argue that the degree of correspondence between the three texts, despite the large temporal and spatial span, indicates that all are ultimately based on a common written ancestor. 1

The Language of Clári saga

In an attempt to establish whether Clári saga is indigenous or translated from Latin, scholars have mainly turned to the saga’s language and style. In his second edition of Clári saga, Gustaf Cederschiöld surveyed the saga’s style and language and concluded that it betrayed its Latin origins.5 For example, he believed that rhetorical phrases such as ok hvat meira, hvat þarf hér langt um, and þarf þar eigi langt um, found throughout the saga, were translations of Latin phrases such as quid multa, quid opus est plura, and neque multis verbis opus est. Cederschiöld identified other Latinisms, including the use of Latin loan words, but admitted that many of these were a common occurrence in the learned florid style of Old Norse-​Icelandic literature of the period and not proof of a Latin source.6 In his thesis, Studier i Clarus saga, Alfred Jakobsen also examined the Latinisms of the text.7 Like Cederschiöld, Jakobsen saw many of the Latin traits simply as a part of the learned style of the time but nevertheless determined that there were some indications of a Latin original, including the use of rare Latin loan words, such as solarium, bissus (byssus), and limes (limen),8 and phrases, such as springa upp (appear, for Lat. oriri) and hálsins pína (pars pro toto indicating capital punishment, literally the neck’s agony, for Lat. poena capitis). Cederschiöld’s and Jakobsen’s views were that the many Latinate aspects of Clári saga’s language could only be explained by the saga being a translation from Latin. However, most of the examples of Latinisms Cederschiöld and Jakobsen mention can be found in other works, both contemporary with and older than Clári saga, some translated but others indigenous. Rhetorical 5 Cederschiöld, introduction to Clári saga, xviii–​xxv. 6 On the learned florid style, see Halvorsen, “Høvisk stil” and Halvorsen, “Lærd og folkelig stil.” 7 Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 33–​39. 8 It should be noted that in Clári saga, the word used is limitem, the accusative of limes, rather than limen, followed by the Icelandic translation “þat kǫllum vér þreskǫld” (which we call threshold). This has long been thought to be a mistake by the translator as in Classical Latin, limes could not be used for a threshold, see, e.g., Clári saga, 47n14. However, in Medieval Latin, this had changed, and limes could in fact be used for a threshold (Dictionary of Medieval Latin from British Sources, s.v. “limes”).

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phrases akin to ok hvat lengra and þarf nú eigi langt um are found, for example, in Marian miracles,9 Guðmundar saga biskups D,10 Tómasar saga erkibiskups II,11 and in several exempla12 thought to be the work of a single author or translator –​alpha –​first identified by Hugo Gering.13 The loan word byssus is found in several other texts, including Stjórn I and II14 and the indigenous Icelandic chivalric saga Bærings saga.15 Although the word limes (or limen) is not found in other Old Norse-​Icelandic texts, the word solarium is attested in the alpha exemplum Af sýslumanni ok fjánda.16 The phrase springa upp is found in texts older than or contemporary with Clári saga, including Tómasar saga erkibiskups I,17 a Marian miracle,18 and Óláfs saga helga.19 In another Marian miracle, we find the phrase hálsins pína meaning capital punishment.20 Furthermore, there are several examples of háls being used without pína as pars pro toto for capital punishment, such as láta sinn háls in Guðmundar saga biskups D21 and hálsinn borga in Tómasar saga erkibiskups II.22 Jakobsen did realize that the phrases springa upp and hálsins pína are attested in other texts but argued that because they are mainly found in works that are translations their occurrence in Clári saga must also be the result of translation. Contrary to Jakobsen, I would argue that all this shows is that these words and phrases were in use in Norwegian and/​or Icelandic society when these texts were produced. Springa upp and hálsins pína are not direct translations of oriri and poena capitis, respectively. They are Old Norse-​Icelandic approximations that may have been used in translated texts because they were already a part of the language. They may also have originated in translations and from there spread to original literary works. 9 10 11 12 13 14

15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Mariu saga, ed. Unger, e.g., 160, 567. Biskupa sögur, eds. Jón Sigurðsson et al., e.g., 2:41, 141. Thomas saga erkibyskups hin yngri, ed. Unger, e.g., 432, 475. Islendzk Æventyri, ed. Gering, e.g., 1:105, 261. Gering, introduction to Islendzk Æventyri, 2:xxv–​lxxi. Stjorn, ed. Unger, 203, 306. The Bible translation Stjórn is a collection of three works of different origins that have been given the designations i, ii, and iii. In Unger’s edition, Stjórn I is on pp. 3–​299, Stjórn II on pp. 300–​49, and Stjórn III on pp. 349–​654. For a discussion of Stjórn and its three parts, see Kirby, “Stjórn.” Bærings saga, ed. Cederschiöld, 123. Islendzk Æventyri, 1:156. Thomas saga erkibyskups hin ellri, ed. Unger, 47, 50, 73. Mariu saga, 270. Den store saga om Olav den hellige, eds. Johnsen and Jón Helgason, 753. Mariu saga, 441. Biskupa sögur, 2:67. Thomas saga erkibyskups hin yngri, 425.

96 Ragnheiðardóttir More recently, Shaun Hughes has argued against a Latin origin and instead focused on what he perceives to be the rammíslensk (strictly Icelandic) quality of the saga. The general consensus has been that Bishop Jón Halldórsson, who brought Clári saga to Iceland according to its prologue, was Norwegian, but Hughes argues, not entirely convincingly, that Jón was born in Iceland or had Icelandic parents, which would explain the Icelandicness of the saga’s language.23 One aspect mentioned by Hughes as a specifically Icelandic feature is what he believes to be metaphorical use of legal language that would be the result of Jón Halldórsson being well-​versed in law and having been involved in legal issues in Iceland, as is attested in historical sources. However, all of the examples that Hughes provides are problematic. Some of the words and phrases Hughes claims are ‘strictly Icelandic’ are also found in Norwegian texts, and many of the words and phrases he connects with legal vocabulary are not specific to a legal context. Therefore, there is no need for the author of Clári saga to have been particularly knowledgeable in legal matters. One such example is the phrase land ok lǫgr (land and sea) that according to Hughes is “a legal formula found in Grágás.”24 It is true that the phrase is found in Grágás, but it is also common in secular and ecclesiastical texts. The phrase appears twice in Clári saga, with two different meanings. First, it is used to emphasize that a long road has been travelled,25 a usage we also find, for example, in Tómasar saga erkibiskups II.26 Later, it is used by the female protagonist, Serena, in the sense of the whole world when she asks where lands eða lagar (on land or sea) courteous women would hold it against their loved ones that they are not beautiful.27 In Grágás, the usage is similar to this latter sense, but the phrase is also used with this meaning in other texts, for example in Alexanders saga,28 a translation of Gautier de Châtillon’s Alexandreis from the middle of the 13th century. Another example discussed by Hughes is the word framburðr (testimony).29 In the legal sense, it appears in, for example, Brennu-​Njáls saga,30 believed to be composed around 1280, and in Guðmundar saga biskups D.31 However, the use of the word in Clári saga does not strike me as deriving from legal vocabulary. 23 Hughes, “Klári saga,” 137–​38. 24 “Klári saga,” 141–​42. 25 Clári saga, 4. 26 Thomas saga erkibyskups hin yngri, 366. 27 Clári saga, 55. 28 Alexanders saga, ed. Finnur Jónsson, 103. 29 Hughes, “Klári saga,” 141. 30 Brennu-​Njálssaga (Njála), ed. Finnur Jónsson, 127. 31 Biskupa sögur, 2:96.

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In Clári saga, the word is used to describe a plea that Tecla, the female protagonist’s lady-​in-​waiting, makes to Serena that she treat Clárus with respect as opposed to her cruel treatment of previous suitors. A quite similar use of framburðr can be found in Stjórn III when a woman pleads to a king to show a man mercy.32 Here we can add the phrase með svo fǫllnum orðum (with the following words).33 As with framburðr, I would argue that this is not a legal formula but a simple way to indicate direct speech in a written text. It is true that the phrase is common in legal texts, but this does not make it a legal formula, as can be seen by its use in a non-​legal manner in both secular and ecclesiastical texts. The same phrase is, for example, used to indicate the direct speech of a demon when he and a priest are conversing in the exemplum Frá þeim manni er drap prestana .II. í kirkjunni.34 Another phrase Hughes regards as an Icelandic feature of the saga is at leggja í skaut, which he sees as “a legal term referring to the casting of lots.”35 Hughes compares this with an example from Grágás, where it appears with the verb bera (carry) instead of leggja (lay). However, the same phrase is also found in Norwegian lawbooks, such as Gulaþingslǫg36 and Bjarkeyjarréttr hinn nýi.37 It may be noted that when this phrase is used in the legal texts, the word hlutr (lot) is always present. With this important word missing from Clári saga, it is hard to justify the use of the phrase as being a metaphorical use of a legal term. Rather than being a legal formula, I believe that in Clári saga the phrase refers to when a child lies (or is laid) in its parent’s lap, such as is found in Marian miracles,38 or when a newborn is presented to its father, of which we find examples in the indigenous chivalric sagas, including Flóres saga konungs ok sona hans.39 In Clári saga, the phrase occurs when Serena’s lady-​in-​waiting Tecla is introduced. She is said to be “listug ok fǫgr meðheiðrligri málsnild ok myndi þykkja hit kurteisasta konungsbarn, ef eigi hefði þvílíkr gimsteinn legit íannat skaut, sem var Séréna konungsdóttir” (skillful and beautiful, possessing honorable eloquence and would be the most courteous child of a king had such a jewel as princess Serena not lain in another lap).40 The phrase is used 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

Stjorn, 523–​24. Hughes, “Klári saga,” 141. Islendzk Æventyri, 1:31. Hughes, “Klári saga,” 140–​41. The Old Norwegian General Law of the Gulathing, ed. Flom, 64. Norges game love indtil 1387, eds. Keyser and Munch, 2:276. Mariu saga, 312, 446. Flóres saga konungs ok sona hans, ed. Lagerholm, 132. Clári saga, 12.

98 Ragnheiðardóttir here metaphorically for ‘having been born;’ Tecla would be the most courteous princess had Serena not been born. In their respective studies, Cederschiöld, Jakobsen, and Hughes attempted to prove that Clári saga is, on the one hand, translated and, on the other hand, indigenous. Although they examined different aspects of the saga’s language, their studies have in common a very narrow focus on Clári saga. But as Ole Widding noted in his criticism of Jakobsen’s thesis, it can be misleading to look only at a single work for particularities in language and style.41 In order to draw any meaningful conclusions, it is important to look at the bigger picture to distinguish between what is particular to a single saga (or a single author) and what is commonplace. When we look at the style of Clári saga in a broader context we realize that although it may at first glance seem distinctive, it is in fact a feature of the language of a group of 14th-​century Icelandic texts identified by Peter Hallberg and Stefán Karlsson. In his study, Peter Hallberg compared the vocabulary and stylistic features of several texts and concluded that they could be attributed to Bergr Sokkason (d. 1350).42 Among these are Tómasar saga erkibiskups II, Guðmundar saga biskups D, various Marian miracles,43 Stjórn I, the alpha exempla, and, last but not least, Clári saga.44 Using similar methods on a part of the same corpus (Tómasar saga erkibiskups II, Guðmundar saga biskups D, and the exempla attributed to alpha), Stefán Karlsson concluded that these works were not the works of Bergr Sokkason but those of Arngrímr Brandsson (d. 1361). Stefán did not dismiss Hallberg’s findings. He believed that rather than identifying a single author, Hallberg had shown “some common characteristics of two or more authors working at the same time, in the first half of the fourteenth century, and at least partially in the same environment, the Benedictine monasteries in northern Iceland” where both Arngrímr and Bergr are known to have resided.45 This group of authors has later been referred to as the Benedictine school.46 Several 41 Widding, “Alfred Jakobsen. Studier i Clarus saga,” 155. 42 Hallberg, Stilsignalement och författarskap i norrön sagalitteratur. 43 Hallberg only took into consideration the miracles on pp. 65–​331 in Unger’s edition. He attributed the miracles on pp. 157–​331 (printed after Stockholm, Kungliga Biblioteket, Isl. perg. 4to no. 11, ca. 1325–​1375) to Bergr Sokkason. See Hallberg, Stilsignalement, 138. 44 The discussion of Clári saga and the alpha exempla in Hallberg’s study is unfortunately buried in an endnote, as Hallberg did not know of these texts until the book was in proof. See Hallberg, Stilsignalement, 178–​88. 45 Stefán Karlsson, “Icelandic Lives of Thomas à Becket,” 237–​38. 46 For a discussion of this school of authors, see Johansson, “A Scriptorium in Northern Iceland;” Johansson, “Bergr Sokkason och Arngrímur Brandsson,” and Sverrir Tómasson, “Helgisagnaritun á 14. öld –​norðlenski Benediktínaskólinn.”

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of the words and phrases that I have discussed here above are commonly found in texts that have been connected to the Benedictine school. Some, including the loan word solarium, the rhetorical phrases, and the pars pro toto use of háls for capital punishment, are almost exclusively found in these texts. Many of these words and phrases were not a part of Hallberg’s study and can thus be seen as further support for the connection between Clári saga and the Benedictine school. In addition to arguing that the supposed legal language of Clári saga could be explained by Jón Halldórsson’s great knowledge of the law, Shaun Hughes argues that the Low German vocabulary, so replete in the saga, is the result of Jón having lived in Bergen, an important port for German Hansa merchants.47 However, much of this vocabulary is also present in texts of the Benedictine school.48 Hughes has rejected Peter Hallberg’s argument that Clári saga and the alpha exempla are the work of Bergr Sokkason but accepts Stefán Karlsson’s identification of Arngrímr Brandsson, to a degree.49 Hughes believes that both the alpha exempla and Clári saga are the work of Jón Halldórsson but that Arngrímr Brandsson may be responsible for committing them to parchment in the form in which they survive. He claims that the style of Clári saga differs considerably from that of the alpha exempla. This he believes is because “the saga … is based on a manuscript version by Jón Halldórsson himself, while the ævintýr [exempla] have been purged of the peculiarities of Bishop Jón’s style in the retelling, especially the Latin mannerisms and the plentiful and exotic vocabulary adopted from Low German.”50 Somewhat contradictorily, Hughes

47 48

49 50

See also Kalinke, “Clári saga. A Case of Low German Infiltration.” Hughes, “Klári saga,” 144–​45. A few examples of words mentioned by Hughes should suffice to show that the vocabulary is not necessarily Jón’s. Some of the following words also appear in texts that have not been associated with this community of authors whereas others seem to be mainly found in those texts: angist (e.g., Stjórn I [Stjorn, 268], the alpha exemplum Af riddara ok álfkonu B [Islendzk Æventyri, 1:249], the Marian miracle Ein húsfrú vandlætti um bónda sinn [Mariu saga, 274]); heimulligr (e.g., Stjórn I [Stjorn, 105], the alpha exemplum Af einum meistara [Islendzk Æventyri, 1:263], Stjórn I [Stjorn, 105]); hóf (e.g., the alpha exemplum Frá þeim manni er drap prestana .II. í kirkjunni [Islendzk Æventyri, 1:32]); klókskapr (e.g., Stjórn I [Stjorn, 36], Tómasar saga erkibiskups II [Thomas saga erkibyskups hin yngri, 373], the alpha exemplum Af einum meistara [Islendzk Æventyri, 1:259]); pláz (e.g., the alpha exemplum Af riddara Romano [Islendzk Æventyri, 1:12], Stjórn I [Stjorn, 133], Guðmundar saga biskups D [Biskupa sögur, 2:122], Tómasar saga erkibiskups II [Thomas saga erkibyskups hin yngri, 345]). Hughes, “The Old Norse Exempla,” 272, 281n84. “The Old Norse Exempla,” 281. Hugo Gering also concluded that Clári saga and the alpha exempla were too stylistically dissimilar to be the work of one man. See Gering, introduction to Islendzk Æventyri, 2:xxiv–​xxv.

100 Ragnheiðardóttir further suggests that if Arngrímr wrote down Clári saga and the alpha exempla he was “careful about preserving Jón’s vocabulary and style.”51 As I have shown, many of the features of the language and style of Clári saga are, rather than being particular to the saga or idiosyncratic to Jón Halldórsson, indicative of the Benedictine school of authors active in Iceland in the 14th century. There is little to suggest that these features are peculiarities of Jón Halldórsson’s style in retelling or that Arngrímr, if he was responsible for committing Clári saga and the alpha exempla to parchment, carefully preserved Jón’s vocabulary and style. Although Bishop Jón Halldórsson was an influential man, he is unlikely to have so greatly shaped the language of a whole community that his vocabulary and style was used in texts that he had no hand in bringing to Iceland. It is much more likely that Clári saga is, in its preserved form, the work of the Benedictine school, although a more in-​depth study is needed to establish exactly what the relationship of the texts is. But absence of evidence is not evidence of absence: even if the language of Clári saga does not betray its Latin origins, this does not mean that the saga is not based on a foreign source. Many of the texts attributed to the Benedictine school are derived from Latin sources and Clári saga might well be too. Whereas the language and style of the saga has not brought us closer to answering the question of the saga’s origins, I believe a comparative literary approach will demonstrate beyond doubt that Clári saga is based on a foreign source.52 2

atu 900 King Thrushbeard

Tales of the atu 900 tale type, the best-​known variant of which is the Grimm brothers’ König Drosselbart (King Thrushbeard), tell of a woman who rejects and humiliates her suitor, for which she pays a great price. The tale type can 51 52

Hughes, “The Old Norse Exempla,” 281n84. I have opted for the use of the term ‘foreign source’ rather than ‘translation’ or ‘adaptation.’ This is partly because my aim for this article is to establish that the saga does owe its origins to a foreign source text, meaning that I focus on similarities rather than differences. Another factor for my decision is the terminological difficulty associated with the words ‘translation’ and ‘adaptation.’ As is well known, medieval translation practices were quite different from those of modern times. Where the line between translation and adaptation falls is difficult to establish and it is possibly even fallacious to attempt to distinguish between a translation and an adaptation. For a discussion of translation versus adaptation in an Old Norse-​Icelandic context, see Sif Rikhardsdottir, Medieval Translations and Cultural Discourse, 5–​9.

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be divided into four key episodes: 1) the humiliation of the suitor, 2) the outwitting of the woman, 3) the suitor’s revenge, and 4) the revelation scene. That Clári saga shows an affinity to the atu 900 tale type has long been known. Indeed, already in the saga’s editio princeps, Gustaf Cederschiöld mentioned this connection.53 Despite this, the extent of Clári saga’s relationship with the tale type has not been adequately examined, and the connection has been somewhat downplayed in later scholarship or even misconstrued. Several comparative studies of the atu 900 tale type have been published, many of which include a discussion of Clári saga. The most detailed of these is Ernst Philippson’s study, in which he surveyed over 90 witnesses to the tale type.54 Philippson showed how although atu 900 tales have a common basic structure, there is a great deal of variation in the treatment of the material in each of the four episodes. For example, in the first episode there are four main motifs of humiliation attested: 1) nicknames, 2) mocking words, 3) lack of table manners, and 4) physical maltreatment of the suitor or his horses. Additionally, Philippson discussed the many variant details that are found in atu 900 tales.55 For example, in the large group of tales where the nickname motif is employed, we find name variants, including Drosselbart, Borkenskjegg, Spitzbart, and Bröselbart. There are also several variants of the mocking words attested: the sought-​after woman announces, for example, that she would rather marry a swine herd or that the suitor is not good enough to shine her shoes. The same goes for the table-​manners motif where, for example, the suitor drops a pomegranate seed, or a breadcrumb gets lodged in his beard. The earliest written variant of the atu 900 tale type is the 13th-​century Middle High German verse narrative Die halbe Birne (The Half Pear) attributed to Konrad von Würzburg (d. 1287).56 Clári saga is the second oldest variant, but

53 Cederschiöld, introduction to Clarus saga, i. 54 Philippson, Der Märchentypus von König Drosselbart. See also Krohn, Übersicht über einige Resultate der Märchenforschung and Gigas, “Et Eventyrs Vandringer.” 55 I use the terms motif and variant details here to distinguish between larger and smaller units. 56 The attribution to Konrad has been questioned, for example, on the grounds that the well-​respected author would not have composed such an obscene narrative. The attribution is found in the epilogue of the poem in four of the its five preserved manuscripts, and the work has been shown to feature vocabulary, formulations, rhyme, and stylistic features characteristic of Konrad von Würzburg’s works. See Grubmüller, Novellistik des Mittelalters, 1084–​85. A recent stylometric study of Konrad’s texts supports the authorship attribution. See Dimpel, Zeppezauer-​Wachauer, and Schlager, “Der Streit um die Birne.”

102 Ragnheiðardóttir the third oldest variant is Bianca di Tolosa by Luigi Alamanni (d. 1556), composed in Italian in the first half of the 16th century.57 Despite spanning a wide geographical area and being written down centuries apart in three different languages, these three texts share many motifs and variant details, suggesting a common written source. 3

The Table-​Manners Motif

The table-​manners motif is an important motif of the atu 900 tale type, and it has even been suggested that it is original to the type.58 Despite its importance, this motif has in scholarship been overshadowed by the name-​calling motif found, for example, in König Drosselbart. This can at least be partly explained by the fact that the table-​manners motif was not mentioned in Antti Aarne’s tale type index.59 This is understandable as Aarne only had access to limited sources. But, unfortunately, later revisors of the index, Stith Thompson and Hans-​Jörg Uther, did not note this important motif, making it relatively obscure.60 Generally, the suitors of tales that feature the table-​manners motif are invited to dine with the sought-​after woman but behave in an uncouth manner, for example, by dropping food items on the floor, having food items lodged in their beards, or spilling sauce onto themselves.61 This motif is used in all three of the earliest tales. When Clárus arrives at Serena’s father’s court with the intention of asking for her hand in marriage, Serena invites him to a feast at her private lodgings. For the last course of the meal, Serena asks Clárus to share with her a soft-​ boiled egg, but she merely pretends to sip from the egg before handing it over. When Clárus is preparing to receive the egg as a proper hofmaðr, a courteous man, Serena purposefully moves her fingers so that it slips out of Clárus’s grasp and the yolk runs down the front of his tunic. Serena humiliates Clárus before her court and his men by angrily accusing him of lack of courtly manners

57

The fourth oldest variant, two tales contained within the early 17th-​century Italian frame tale Lo cunto de li cunti (The Tale of Tales, also known as Il Pentamerone) by Giambattista Basile, will not be discussed here as I believe a comparison with the two earliest variants is sufficient to show that Clári saga must be based on a foreign source. 58 Krohn, Übersicht, 148. 59 Aarne, Verzeichnis der Märchentypen, 38–​39. 60 Aarne, The Types of the Folktale, 310; Uther, The Types of International Folktales, 1:523. 61 Philippson, Der Märchentypus, 16–​17.

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(hoftypt), scolding him for being unable to dine in the company of civilized people without bringing shame upon himself.62 In Konrad von Würzburg’s Die halbe Birne, we encounter a similar use of the table-​manners motif. The anonymous female protagonist of Die halbe Birne is a princess who has rejected all her suitors, but unlike Serena, no mention is made of her having humiliated them. At the princess’s request a tournament is held where the winner will receive the prize of her hand in marriage. During the first day of the tournament, the prowess of the knight Arnolt catches the eye of both the king and the princess, and he is invited to a banquet at the palace. The last course of the meal includes a pear that Arnolt and the princess are to share. Arnolt picks up the pear, slices it in half, and –​without peeling it –​throws his half into his mouth, presenting the other half to the princess. Arnolt’s actions excite an angry response from the princess, who publicly humiliates him when he returns to the tournament by crying out that he lacks hovezühte, courtly manners.63 In Die halbe Birne and Clári saga, the table-​manners motif is employed in quite a similar way. Both suitors commit a courtly faux pas, and although the food item is different between the tales, the tales have in common the variant detail of the food item being shared. Furthermore, the food item is the last course served at a banquet held as a part of courtship. The main difference between the tales is the attitude of the women prior to the banquet and the degree to which the suitor is to blame for the incident. Although both women have hitherto rejected all suitors, it is at the instigation of the princess of Die halbe Birne that the tournament is held, and there is nothing to suggest that she intends to humiliate the winner. It is Arnolt’s own crass behavior that angers the princess, leading her to publicly humiliate him. Arnolt is quite coarse, and even the narrator joins the princess in her judgement of him when he is said to have sliced the pear in a boorish manner (“nach gebiureschlîcher art”) and revealed his gluttony (“er tet nach eines vrâzes site”) when he threw the pear half in his mouth.64 This treatment of the motif is similar to that of the younger tales, where the suitors are generally at least partly to blame. In Clári saga, on the other hand, the blame is squarely placed on Serena’s shoulders. When Serena invites Clárus to a feast, she is up to no good. Serena has no desire to marry Clárus, and by tricking him into spilling the egg, she creates for 62 63 64

Clári saga, 22–​23. Marianne Kalinke has analyzed the table-​manners motif of Clári saga with reference to medieval treatises on etiquette, with a focus on German works. She also briefly discusses Die halbe Birne in this context. See Kalinke, “Table Decorum.” Konrad von Würzburg, Von dem Ritter, 178–​84. Von dem Ritter, 182.

104 Ragnheiðardóttir herself a perfect justification to humiliate and reject him. Unlike Arnolt and the suitors of the later tales, Clárus is a proper hofmaðr. He is simply an unsuspecting victim of Serena’s trickery, like her other suitors before him. And, as opposed to Arnolt, the narrator sides with Clárus. It is made clear that Clárus is not to blame and that Serena is acting out of malice: she is no longer Serena (‘serene’) but rather Severa (‘severe’) and her sudden change is likened to her shapeshifting into a wolf (“hon tekr sér þann vargham”).65 As to Serena’s intentions, there are already hints when she sends her lady-​in-​waiting Tecla to invite Clárus to a feast. Tecla beseeches Serena to treat Clárus without fals ok prett (insincerity and trickery), but Serena responds by scowling at Tecla and telling her to shut up and do her bidding.66 There remains no doubt as to Serena’s design when after Clárus has left she “sitr … nú eptir glǫð ok kát ok þykkir vel hafa gengit” (stays behind, happy and jolly, and feels that [it] had been a success).67 The treatment of the motif is somewhat different in the early 16th-​ century Bianca di Tolosa. In order to secure peace between France and Spain, a marriage between Bianca, the daughter of the count of Languedoc, and the (anonymous) son of the count of Barcelona, himself called a count throughout the tale, is proposed. However, because of a promise Bianca’s father had given her mother before she passed, Bianca herself has the last say in whether she will marry him.68 No mention is made of Bianca having rejected previous suitors or that she is opposed to marrying the count from the beginning. A banquet that is held to introduce the two is going well until a bowl of pomegranate seeds is served as the last course of the meal. Things go awry when the count drops a seed from his hand but catches it before it falls to the ground and eats it. According to the narrator, the count decided to catch the seed to show finesse and skill, but this is not how Bianca perceives his behavior. In a long inner monologue, Bianca makes known why his actions disturb her so much; for her, this was a sign of the famed avarice of the Catalans and revealed that the count could not control his greedy nature, no matter how much he tried.69 Because of this, Bianca tells her father she does not wish to marry the man, and her father cannot but comply because of the promise he had made to her mother. 65 Clári saga, 22. 66 Clári saga, 15. 67 Clári saga, 23. 68 Alamanni, Bianca di Tolosa, 16. 69 Bianca di Tolosa, 22.

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As in Clári saga and Die halbe Birne, the incident happens during the last course of a meal at a banquet that is a part of courtship. However, unlike the other two tales, this food item is not to be shared between the pair. Like the princess of Die halbe Birne, Bianca is at first not opposed to the match, but when her suitor catches the pomegranate seed, she fears that this is revealing of his innate avarice and, therefore, rejects him. Unlike the narrator of Die halbe Birne, the narrator of Bianca di Tolosa sides with the suitor. The count is no boor, but acted to show refinement. Both Clárus and the count of Bianca di Tolosa are thus courteous men, but the intentions and actions of the women differ considerably. Bianca has simply misinterpreted her suitor’s actions, while Serena is to blame for Clárus’s accident with the egg. What further differentiates Bianca from the other women is that she does not publicly humiliate the suitor, he only hears of her reasons when he asks her father why she had rejected the match.70 4

The Avarice Motif

In the second episode of the atu 900 tale type, where the suitor outwits the princess, several different motifs are attested in the younger tales. The best-​ known of these is the motif used, for example, in the Grimm brothers’ König Drosselbart: after the princess has humiliated her latest suitor, her father has had enough and declares that he will marry her off to the next man at their door, even if he is a beggar. The humiliated suitor hears this and returns disguised as a minstrel. This motif is rarely found outside of Northern Europe and is unlikely original to the tale type; it is more likely a contracted form of the original structure, which would have included a more elaborate outwitting sequence.71 In tales in which this sequence is retained, the prince returns in disguise and gets the better of the princess, either by using his charm and skills or by taking advantage of her avarice. To charm the princess, the prince disguises himself as a craftsman or a minstrel, and because of his impressive skills, the princess falls in love with him. The most widespread motif is the avarice motif. In tales in which this motif is found, the suitor returns disguised as a commoner and appeals to the princess’s cupidity by presenting her with three precious artefacts that he is only willing to sell to her if she lets him kiss her, sleep

70 Bianca di Tolosa, 24–​26. 71 Philippson, Der Märchentypus, 21–​22.

106 Ragnheiðardóttir in her room, or have sex with her. In some tales, the princess willingly gives up her virginity to the disguised prince in exchange for the artefacts, in others he takes it by force. The avarice motif is present in Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa. In Bianca di Tolosa, the count craves revenge when he learns the reason for the princess’s rejection. He returns disguised as a jewel merchant and soon gains the trust of Bianca and her ladies-​in-​waiting. One day, the merchant tells one of Bianca’s ladies that he has a jewel, more precious than all the rest, that he would not sell for any price. The next day, Bianca sends her lady-​in-​waiting to attempt to buy the jewel or to at least convince the merchant to allow Bianca to see it. Upon seeing the stone and hearing of its virtues, Bianca’s desire for it grows even stronger. Three times, Bianca sends her lady-​in-​waiting to try to persuade the merchant to sell the jewel. Finally, he says that he is willing to give Bianca the jewel, but only if she spends a night with him as if he were her husband. After their first night together, the merchant offers two more stones of no less value or virtue for the same price, an offer Bianca accepts.72 In Clári saga, a very similar pattern emerges. Clárus swears vengeance for the humiliation to which Serena has subjected him, and with the help of his tutor, Master Perus, he obtains it. Perus has three large tents (landtjǫld) made from beautiful cloth and three animal figures cast from precious metals. Thrice, Clárus, disguised as Prince Eskilvarð of Bláland (literally Blackland, generally used for Africa or Ethiopia), displays his treasures outside Serena’s castle, inflaming her cupidity. Serena wants to buy the treasures, but each time Eskilvarð says that he will only give them up if she will sleep with him. Serena accepts his indecent proposals with the condition that afterwards he must marry her. But as before, Serena is up to no good. Twice, she manages to trick Eskilvarð with a sleeping potion, so that he cannot have his way with her, and has him whipped bloody. On the third night, the tables are turned, and Clárus beds Serena. This he only manages to do with the help of Serena’s lady-​in-​waiting, Tecla, who has served as Clárus’s and Serena’s go-​between during negotiations for the treasures. When Tecla approaches Clárus to make a deal for the third time, Perus uses a magic threshold and ring to force her to break Serena’s confidence and reveal the method by which she drugs Clárus. Additionally, he convinces Tecla to brew a weaker potion, allowing Clárus to wake up earlier.73 Although Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa are different in some respects, including Serena’s violent treatment of Clárus, the pattern is clearly the same.

72 Alamanni, Bianca di Tolosa, 28–​30, 38–​44. 73 Clári saga, 40–​41, 43–​44, 47–​50.

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In both texts, the suitor returns in disguise and tempts the woman with three precious artefacts of incremental value. Clári saga features 1) a copper bear that draws a tent made from copper supports and colorful cloth, 2) a silver lion that draws a tent made from silver supports inlaid with corals and expensive cloth, and 3) a golden vulture that draws a tent made from gold supports inlaid with diamonds and the most expensive cloths, topped with a carbuncle.74 In Bianca di Tolosa, the items are not as intricate but equally impressive. The merchant offers up three jewels; 1) a diamond, rumored to be the Philosopher’s Stone, that helps its owner make decisions and achieve victory in battle, 2) a ruby that protects against poison, and 3) an emerald that provides protection against the plague.75 Die halbe Birne deviates from the atu 900 tale type pattern in the outwitting episode. Exchanging one capital vice for another, Konrad von Würzburg employs a lust motif in his bawdy reworking. Furious after his public humiliation, Arnolt seeks revenge, and on the advice of his squire, he returns to the princess’s castle disguised as a simpleton. He is allowed to stay at the castle because the inhabitants find his antics amusing. One evening, he is spotted by one of the princess’s ladies-​in-​waiting and is brought inside to entertain the princess and her company. After a while, the simpleton gets an erection that is visible to all since he is wearing nothing but a short tunic. When the princess sees that “der eilfte vinger was ersworn” (the eleventh finger was swollen), she burns with desire.76 Having no experience in matters of the flesh, the princess asks one of her more seasoned ladies-​in-​waiting, Irmengart, for advice on how to sate her lust. Irmengart leads the simpleton into the princess’s bed where he curls up like a hedgehog. Irmengart then proceeds to lay the fool on the princess’s stomach and presses him between her legs, but to no avail as he only lies there whining like a guard dog. Finally, Irmengart picks up a stick and repeatedly pokes the simpleton on the behind until he begins to move. When the princess is reaching the point “daz die vröuden zuo sigen” (where the pleasure flows), the simpleton suddenly stops, prompting the princess to yell out “stüpfa, maget Irmengart durch dîne wîpliche art, diu von geburt an erbet dich, sôreget aber der tôre sich!” (push him, maid Irmengart, through your feminine nature, given to you by birth, then the fool will move again).77 And prick and prod she does until both simpleton and princess climax.

74 Clári saga, 28–​32. 75 Alamanni, Bianca di Tolosa, 36–​38, 44–​46. 76 Konrad von Würzburg, Von dem Ritter, 192. 77 Von dem Ritter, 198.

108 Ragnheiðardóttir It might seem as if the differences between Die halbe Birne, on the one hand, and Bianca di Tolosa and Clári saga, on the other hand, are such that a comparison between them will not offer any insight, but this is not the case. The comical twist of the lust motif plays on the same ideas as the avarice motif: the unrestrained desire to possess something, irrespective of the object of desire. All three suitors take advantage of the women’s intemperance, and whether moved by greed or lust, the woman, who had previously accused her suitor of lack of decorum, exhibits behavior that is certainly not in keeping with her status. Another feature that is common to all three texts is the lady-​in-​waiting’s large role in the plot. In Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa, the respective lady-​in-​ waiting on three occasions acts as an intermediary between the sought-​after woman and the disguised suitor. Bianca’s lady-​in-​waiting actively encourages Bianca to attempt to procure the jewel and later badgers her to accept the offer of sleeping with the merchant. Bianca repeatedly tells her lady-​in-​waiting that she will not sleep with the merchant but is eventually worn down by the constant pressure.78 In Clári saga, Tecla encourages Serena to stop her cruel behavior and trickery against Eskilvarð for he is the mightiest and most honorable man in the whole world. But even though Serena and Tecla argue about this, Tecla must do Serena’s bidding as she is her superior.79 Eventually, Tecla breaks Serena’s trust, but not willingly as she is forced to by means of magical objects. Although their motives and actions differ, both ladies-​in-​waiting are crucial to the suitor’s success in humiliating the sought-​after woman. In the burlesque Die halbe Birne, the lady-​in-​waiting’s contribution to the princess’s downfall is made all the more apparent with her active participation in the carnal act itself. In the humiliation episode, Die halbe Birne and Clári saga are in agreement on the detail of the shared food item, and in the outwitting episode the two again share revealing details. Both Arnolt of Die halbe Birne and Clárus of Clári saga have a trusty advisor upon whose assistance they are dependent. The role of Perus in Clári saga is much larger than that of Arnolt’s squire, but both advisors tell the humiliated men how to go about seeking revenge and help them disguise themselves. There are differences in how Arnolt and Clárus seek their revenge, one by means of avarice and the other by means of lust, but an interesting detail shows the affinity between the two texts: both men use ash or an ash-​like substance to darken their complexion. In order to make Clárus

78 Alamanni, Bianca di Tolosa, 44. 79 Clári saga, 46–​47.

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unrecognizable to Serena, Perus darkens Clárus’s skin by rubbing an ash-​like substance (“þvílíkt sem aska”) on his face.80 This ash-​rubbing gives him the appearance “sem þeim mǫnnum er náttúruligt, er langt eru útan ór heiminum undan sólarhita” (which is natural for those men who come from far out in the world, beneath the hot sun).81 In Die halbe Birne, the squire advises Arnolt to cut his hair, dress in a tunic that barely covers his knees, and smear his body with ash to make himself “geswerzet als ein môr” (blackened like a moor).82 5

The Suitor’s Revenge and the Revelation

The latter two episodes of the atu 900 tale type, particularly the revenge episode, are important in establishing whether a tale can be considered to be of the atu 900 tale type. The revenge episode is so crucial that, according to Ernst Philippson, a tale in which a revenge episode is not included does not belong to the atu 900 tale type.83 Therefore, to ascertain whether Clári saga is of the atu 900 tale type, we must pay particular attention to this episode. As the comparison below shows, Clári saga shows characteristic features of the tale type and a particularly close relationship with Bianca di Tolosa. In Clári saga, after having spent several happy nights together, Clárus, still disguised as prince Eskilvarð, marries Serena, just as he had promised he would. When Serena wakes up after their first night together as husband and wife, she discovers that all her riches are gone and that sleeping next to her is

80 81

Clári saga, 33. Clári saga, 34. It should be noted that according to the saga, Clárus turns bleikr. As with many other Old Norse color terms, the color that the term refers to in Old Norse-​Icelandic texts is considerably different to that of modern Icelandic. In modern Icelandic, bleikr most commonly refers to the color pink whereas in Old Norse-​Icelandic texts the term usually denotes pale, blond, and fair and is often used to describe blond hair and a fair complexion, those who are sickly or losing blood, and even corpses. This cannot be the meaning of the word in Clári saga, as the context shows. Bleik(u)r is also used in modern Icelandic and Old Norse-​Icelandic texts to describe the color of horses, a reddish-​brown color ranging from lighter to darker shades. A similar use of bleikr to the one in Clári saga is found in Stjórn I, which as noted above is connected to the Benedictine school of authors in Northern Iceland. Kirsten Wolf has suggested that bleikr as used in Stjórn I relates to what in English is called fawn, a “grayish yellowish brown to light grayish or moderate reddish brown or moderate yellowish pink.” See Wolf, “Reflections on the Color of Esau’s Pottage,” 256. However, bleikr when used for horses can go to darker shades than fawn and has more reddish undertones than yellowish. 82 Konrad von Würzburg, Von dem Ritter, 188. 83 Philippson, Der Märchentypus, 34.

110 Ragnheiðardóttir an ugly minstrel. When he wakes up, the minstrel, who claims to be the true Eskilvarð, ridicules Serena for having sold her virginity to him who is even worse than a vagabond and yells at her to run back home to her father. But rather than leave, Serena tells the minstrel that she will love him completely as her husband and follow him at all cost. The minstrel packs up his things and runs away, but, true to her words, Serena quickly gets dressed and runs after him. Barefoot, hungry, and thirsty, Serena follows the man she believes to be her husband, suffering the elements and his incessant scornful words. Even when the minstrel sells the fine clothes off her back, forcing her to wear a burlap sack, she stays with him. At night, Serena sleeps on straw floors at various inns while her minstrel husband performs for food and drink, throwing only leftovers her way. After twelve grueling months, Serena and the minstrel reach their destination; a hovel at the edge of a large city that, unbeknownst to Serena, is the home of Clárus. Immediately, Serena is sent out to beg for food in front of a minster where she spends the night in the freezing cold. The next morning, Serena encounters Clárus who walks up to her and, without uttering a single word, slaps her so hard that she is flung against a wall. Afterwards, a kind man gives her some food, which she dutifully brings to her husband. This chain of events is repeated the following two days, although on the third day the kind man does not give Serena food to take back home but rather leads her into a house, feeds her, dresses her in fine clothes, and brings her to a castle. There, Serena is greeted by Clárus who explains what had happened; her ugly husband was Clárus’s tutor, Perus, in disguise and due to her display of virtue and steadfastness in sticking with the man she believed to be her husband he has now forgiven her and will take her for his wife.84 In Bianca di Tolosa we find the same structure of departure, hardship on the road, hardship in the new home, and a final revelation at the humiliated suitor’s court. After having spent three nights with the merchant in return for his precious jewels, Bianca realizes that she is pregnant. Not willing to marry some unsuspecting man and claim the child as his, she resolves to marry the merchant and endure with great patience all that may befall her. Dressed as pilgrims, they leave the city in the dead of night. Heavy with child, Bianca is forced to walk to her new home in the blazing summer heat, all the while suffering harsh words from the merchant. Each night, they stay at awful inns where she can get no rest.85 When a few days later they reach Barcelona, the

84 Clári saga, 54–​71. 85 Alamanni, Bianca di Tolosa, 52–​54.

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location of the count’s castle, they lodge in a decrepit inn and Bianca is put to work. Twice, the merchant orders Bianca to steal for him and when she dutifully obeys, although it goes against her nature, he has her theft exposed. Finally, the count has his parents prepare a wedding and, still disguised as the merchant, tells Bianca that the count is going to marry and that she must attend the feast and try to steal something. To make sure she attends, he asks the keeper of the inn to bring Bianca to the wedding, and although Bianca is horrified at the thought of attending the wedding of the man she had humiliated, she must obey the merchant. At the wedding, the count, no longer disguised as a merchant, approaches Bianca and reveals everything. He was the merchant all along and he has now forgiven her, for he has seen in her time of trouble that she possesses a generous and noble soul.86 Just as in the first two episodes, Bianca di Tolosa and Clári saga show close similarities in the revenge and revelation episodes. Not only do the two tales follow the same atu 900 tale type pattern, but they also share several details. Notably, passages at the beginning of the revenge episode in each tale show a great deal of similarity. This can be best shown by a direct comparison, shown in table 5.1. These passages share several details: both women vow that they will suffer whatever may come their way, both must suffer the warm summer sun, and both men yell derisive words at them. The similarities continue in the next passages where the women’s accommodation at night, terrible inns, are described, albeit in greater detail in Clári saga than in Bianca di Tolosa. Throughout, Clári saga is longer than Bianca di Tolosa, and this also applies to the revenge episode. For example, Bianca’s walk to her new home only takes up one short chapter whereas in Clári saga, Serena’s travels to her new home are more extensive; both the actual journey is longer, twelve months as opposed to a few days in Bianca di Tolosa,87 and the description of the journey is much more drawn out. In true folktale style, the journey is in Clári saga described in three successive passages where Serena’s agony of walking during the day and sleeping at bad inns at night is described, without much new information being added. At the end of the three passages, Clári saga includes a short summary of the torments of Serena:88 86 87 88

Bianca di Tolosa, 66–​70. The period of torment is twelve months in the B-​group of manuscripts but three in the A-​group. See Cederschiöld, Clarus saga, 20n4. A scene where Serena is forced to carry the minstrel on her back as he has broken his leg follows this summary. This scene has, to my knowledge, no analogues in atu 900 tales.

112 Ragnheiðardóttir Þolir frú Séréna hér svá mikit válk af alls kyns harðrétti, at undarligt mátti þykkja, at þess manns líf þolði slíkt, er svá sælligt uppfœði hafði haft. Optast gekk hon berfætt, þolandi þar með hungr ok þorsta, hita ok kulða, ok hér ofan á illyrði ok úróa af þessum fjanda, er henni fylgði ok hana únáðaði nátt ok dag.89 Mistress Serena endured so much hardship and strain that it is extraordinary that a person who had lived such a life of luxury could withstand it. She generally walked barefoot, suffering hunger and thirst, heat and cold, and on top of that the scolding and abuse from that devil that followed her and troubled her night and day. Parts of this description correspond to details in Bianca di Tolosa. Firstly, we learn that Serena walked barefoot, but Bianca is said to have walked on sharp stones (see table 5.1). Secondly, in both texts, a stark contrast is drawn between a previous life of luxury and the current suffering: it is said to be extraordinary that Serena is able to suffer all that she has been subjected to after having lived the good life, whereas Bianca had in the past been scarcely accustomed to walking more than forty paces in a whole year, and even then only during the most pleasant of weather while being supported by many gentlemen of her court.90 When the short and succinct description of Bianca di Tolosa is read together with the longer description in Clári saga, it becomes apparent that nearly all the same information is related in both texts, although the description is much more concise in Bianca di Tolosa. When the women reach their new homes, the differences between the two tales becomes greater, but there are still some similar features, for example, in both a third party brings the woman to the castle for the revelation. In the revenge and revelation episodes, Die halbe Birne deviates from the atu 900 pattern as it does in the outwitting episode. The tale still includes revenge and revelation, but the two happen simultaneously. The episode is much shorter than is typical of the atu 900 type and, moreover, has features uncharacteristic of the type, for example, there is no walk to a new home nor a life in poverty. Arnolt returns to the tournament after having spent the night with the princess. Upon seeing him, the princess mocks him as before. Arnolt then repeats the words the princess had spoken to Irmengart when Arnolt,

89 Clári saga, 61. 90 Alamanni, Bianca di Tolosa, 52–​54.

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table 5.1 A comparison of passages from the revenge episodes in Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa. The three most notable corresponding sentences are respectively italicized, underlined, and set in bold type

Clári saga, 57–​58

Alamanni, Bianca di Tolosa, 54

Ora al più caldo sole di tutto il luglio l’era forza camminare sopra taglienti pietre, e già assai grave del ventre, portando tutti quegli affanni possibili alla più povera persona che vada in cammino. Il conte pur talora, quando mestier faceva, la incitava a riposo, ma con sì rozze parole, e poi con sì mal cortesi al camminare la sollecitava, che un minimo comodo al corpo era disagio all’animo grandissimo. Ma il giorno che di Tolosa usciti erano, si dispose del tutto di pazientissimamente portare ogni scherno della fortuna. (But she says that she will always (Now, under the hot July sun follow him, whatever she must suffer, she was forced to walk on sharp for as long as she can stand on her stones, her belly already very heavy, feet. What more must here be said? bearing all the troubles that would thus they proceed that day until the poorest vagabond. When need night that at one time he runs ahead arose the count urged her to rest, so that she can barely see him, but but with rough words, and then then waits until she has caught up without any manners pushed for her and yells derisive words at her. And to walk again, so that which was a not from this either does she buckle, small comfort for the body became but still suffers from hunger and a torment for the soul. But the day thirst from the day’s hot sun for she they left Toulouse she had committed had neither drunk nor eaten that herself to bear with great patience day.) every scorn fortune handed her.) En hon segiz æ honum fylgja skulu, hvat illt er hon þolir, meðan hon má standa á sína fœtr. Hvat þarf hér langt um? svá fara þau allan þenna dag allt til kvelds, at aðra stund hleypr hann svá undan, at hneppilega eygir hon til hans, en aðra stund bíðr hann til þess at gefa henni háðulig orð með heitan í hvern tíma, sem hon kemr eptir honum. Ok eigi því heldr viknar hon fyrir, ok er þó sárliga mœdd af hungri ok þorsta með dagligum sólarhita; því at engu hafði hon bergt þann dag.

114 Ragnheiðardóttir disguised as the simpleton, had stopped moving during their lovemaking. Although others present at the tournament do not understand the reference, the princess and Irmengart are mortified, and the princess agrees to marry Arnolt in order to hide her sexual indiscretion. As discussed above, Shaun Hughes has argued that in its current form Clári saga is an indigenous Icelandic composition by Bishop Jón Halldórsson, but that he constructed his saga from material that he had been exposed to in Bergen and during his studies in Paris and Bologna.91 Hughes believes Jón Halldórsson drew from three different folktale types, atu 900 King Thrushbeard, atu 901 The Obstinate Wife Learns to Obey (Taming of the Shrew), and atu 887 Griselda. According to Hughes, only ­chapters 1–​15 of Clári saga (corresponding to the humiliation and the outwitting episodes) draw from the atu 900 tale type whereas c­ hapters 16–​19, which encompass the revenge and revelation episodes, belong to the tale type atu 901. Additionally, Hughes sees the behavior of Serena in the last four chapters as being more in line with that of the wife in atu 887. These three tale types are related but there are important differences. In atu 901, the woman is a shrew that the husband must tame. The narrative often starts out as a bet that the man cannot tame her, or there is some other financial gain in it for him. Commonly, the taming comes in the form of the husband killing or maiming his animals when they disobey his command. His goal is to show his wife what will happen to her should she disobey him. In some tales the wife is also beaten, starved, or otherwise physically maltreated. The final test to determine if the wife has been tamed comes in various forms, for example, she must come at once when called, disrobe in front of a crowd, or wait on her husband. In atu 887, the humiliation process is also quite different from atu 900. There, the wife is a paradigm of virtue who has done nothing to wrong her husband, but still he decides to test her devotion. First, he pretends to kill their children, and when she accepts that fate, he mock-​divorces her. The wife’s patience and devotion throughout this torment is not enough for the husband who devises a final test: he stages his wedding to a new bride, often his own daughter, and brings his wife back home to attend to her. All this the wife endures with humility.92 However, as noted above, what typifies tales of the atu 900 tale type is the drawn-​out revenge to which the suitor subjects the woman who humiliated him, and, as the comparison with Bianca di Tolosa reveals, Clári saga certainly 91 92

Hughes, “Klári saga,” 150–​52. For a discussion of the atu 901 tale type, see Brunvand, The Taming of the Shrew. For the atu 887 tale type, see Morabito, Le virtùdi Griselda, and Rüegg, The Patient Griselda Myth.

115

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follows this pattern. There is, therefore, no need to look beyond the atu 900 tale type for a source for ­chapters 16–​19, for the inclusion of them is what seals the deal for Clári saga being of the atu 900 tale type. Furthermore, the behavior of Serena during the revenge and revelation episodes is quite typical of the atu 900 tale type. 6

A Written Ancestor

The above discussion shows clearly that Clári saga is of the atu 900 tale type and is closely related to two of the oldest variants of the type, the 13th-​century Die halbe Birne and the early 16th-​century Bianca di Tolosa. This close relationship shows beyond a doubt that Clári saga is based on a foreign source. Furthermore, this foreign source must have been written, as is stated in the saga’s prologue, rather than oral. Not only are the same motifs employed in Clári saga, Bianca di Tolosa, and partly Die halbe Birne, but the three texts also share many variant details. Some are solely attested in the earliest tales while others also appear in younger tales, although none are among the most common features of the atu 900 tale type. A list of the most important details shared by at least two of the three tales is given in table 5.2. table 5.2 Important similarities between the three oldest atu 900 tales

Die halbe Birne

Clári saga

Shared food item Advisor to suitor Rubbed with ash Lady-​in-​waiting

Shared food item Advisor to suitor Rubbed with ash Lady-​in-​waiting Vow to endure whatever may come The sun’s heat (and the cold) Walks barefoot Contrast with former life Overnight at bad inns Brought to castle by third party

Bianca di Tolosa

Lady-​in-​waiting Vow to endure whatever may come The hottest July sun Walks on sharp stones Contrast with former life Overnight at bad inns Brought to castle by third party

116 Ragnheiðardóttir As is clear from table 5.2, Clári saga and Die halbe Birne share details in the first half of the tale type, the humiliation and outwitting episodes. Firstly, in both texts the food item is shared, a detail that is missing from younger tales where the table-​manners motif is employed. In them, as in Bianca di Tolosa, the suitor generally drops a non-​shared food item, for example, an almond or a pomegranate seed; or a bread crumb gets lodged in his beard.93 Secondly, in both Clári saga and Die halbe Birne the suitor has an advisor who is crucial to the success of his revenge, and both advisors instruct the suitor to disguise himself by way of darkening his skin with ash (or an ash-​like substance). An advisory character does not appear in the younger tales, save one where the suitor has a helper. However, this helper is likely not related to the advisors of Die halbe Birne and Clári saga but rather a loan from the myriad of European folktales and fairy tales that feature a magical helper.94 The detail of the darkening of the skin lives on in some later tales. There is at least one example of the suitor disguising himself as a dark-​skinned person and, additionally, a few tales where he disguises himself as someone who works with coal. Most commonly in the later tales, the suitor disguises himself as a craftsman, but there are also a number of tales where he disguises himself as a beggar and several where he takes the disguise of a minstrel.95 In Clári saga, Perus disguises himself as a minstrel, and hints of this may be found in Die halbe Birne, where Arnolt disguises himself as a simpleton and is allowed to stay at the castle and enter the princess’s chamber because his antics are entertaining. In the second half of the tale type, the revenge and revelation episodes, Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa share many details. For example, the woman’s previous life of luxury is put in stark contrast with her current situation, with the focus being on the physical aspect. In a large group of younger tales, this scene is handled in a different manner: the disguised prince leads the princess through his wealthy kingdom, and three times she asks whose property (e.g., forest, meadow, town) she sees. When her new husband tells her that they are those of the suitor she humiliated and would have been hers had she not refused him, she laments her decision.96 Here, as in Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa, the woman’s former life is contrasted with her new life, but the focus is not on the physical toll of walking. Rather, the princess’s might-​have-​been wealth is contrasted with her current poverty. 93 Philippson, Der Märchentypus, 16–​17. 94 Der Märchentypus, 24–​25. 95 Der Märchentypus, 20–​21. 96 Der Märchentypus, 36–​37.

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Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa show similarity throughout, but what is perhaps the strongest argument for a common written source for Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa are the remarkably similar passages where the woman’s walk to her new home is described (see table 5.1). Here, nearly all details of the journey we find in Clári saga are also present in Bianca di Tolosa, despite its shorter length. A walk to the new home is attested in nearly all tales of the atu 900 tale type, with some variant details. In Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa, the physical toll of walking is emphasized. In the later tales we find some similar details, including walking barefoot, but none of them feature all the variant details together in a manner similar to our two texts. Other details, such as the woman’s vow and the harsh words directed towards her, are not common in younger tales. Although oral transmission can be remarkably stable, precision is, as noted by Bruce Rosenberg, a product of writing. What is passed down in oral tradition is the general pattern and main theme of the tale while superfluous details are forgotten.97 Therefore, it is highly unlikely that the various motifs and variant details that our tales agree on would have remained unchanged in oral tradition from the 13th century, when Die halbe Birne was composed, until the beginning of the 16th century, when Luigi Alamanni wrote his tale. It is true that there are differences between the three tales, but I believe they are more likely to be the result of artistic license, taken to suit a certain audience and purpose, than of oral transmission. If these differences were the result of oral transmission, what would have changed are the motifs and particularly the variant details: the shared food item, the darkening of the skin, the woman’s vow, the physical toll of walking, the harsh words. And in fact these details, superfluous to the main theme of the atu 900 tale type, are precisely what has changed in the later oral transmission of the tale type, as evidenced by the myriad of different motifs and details that are attested in the later tales. Having established that Clári saga is based on a written source, we are left with the question of whether the remainder of the claims made in the prologue are true. Was the source a Latin verse narrative, was it found in France, and was it Jón Halldórsson who brought it to Iceland? We will likely never be able to answer all these questions. Nevertheless, there is every reason to believe Jón Halldórsson brought the foundations of Clári saga to Iceland. Jón is in several medieval sources connected to exempla and storytelling, and, according to a short narrative about his life, the stories he told he had “tekit í útlöndum, bæði með letrum og eigin raun” (brought from abroad, both from 97 Rosenberg, Folklore and Literature, 29–​37.

118 Ragnheiðardóttir written sources and his own experience).98 It is very possible that the source of Clári saga was one such story. A good preacher like Jón was always on the lookout for a story that could be used to make a moral point and he would not have hesitated to draw material from secular literature if he saw in it an edifying potential.99 Later, this story would have made its way into the hands of a member of the Benedictine school of authors who either translated it into Icelandic or reworked an existing translation. 7

Conclusion

Since Clári saga’s Latin verse source has never been found, many have doubted the claim made in the saga’s prologue. Some have outright rejected it, writing the prologue off as a topos, others have seen no reason to doubt it, and yet others have straddled the fence. Attempts have been made to argue for and against foreign origins with reference to the saga’s language and style. Examples of Latinisms, Low German vocabulary, and ‘specifically Icelandic’ features, including supposedly distinct legal vocabulary, have been brought into the discussion. However, scholars have tended to focus too narrowly on Clári saga and thus missed the fact that the Latinisms, both in vocabulary and style, and the Low German loan words show a clear affinity with works that have been attributed to the Benedictine school of authors working in the north of Iceland in the 14th century. In this article, I have employed a comparative literary approach with the aim of demonstrating that Clári saga is based on a foreign source. The focus has been on a comparison with two of the earliest variants of the atu 900 tale type, the 13th-​century Die halbe Birne and the 16th-​century Bianca di Tolosa, but examples have also been drawn from later tales. Composed centuries apart in three different languages, Clári saga, Die halbe Birne, and Bianca di Tolosa show a close affinity, both in the use of motifs and variant details. Furthermore, Clári saga and Bianca di Tolosa have nearly identical passages in common. Due to the nature of oral transmission, where details superfluous to the main theme of a narrative are quickly forgotten or changed, the degree of similarity between the three texts, compared with the great deal of variance found in later tales, shows that they are ultimately based on a common written original. 98 99

Söguþáttur af Jóni Halldórssyni biskupi, 445. I have discussed Jón’s connection with storytelling in a previous publication, see Védís Ragnheiðardóttir, “Formáli Clári sögu.” For a discussion of the various sources from which Dominican preachers drew material, see Mulchahey, “First the Bow is Bent in Study”, 458–​72.

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Here, I have focused on the similarities between Clári saga, Die halbe Birne, and Bianca di Tolosa rather than the differences, as my aim was to show that Clári saga is indeed based on a foreign source but is not an original, indigenous, Icelandic saga, as has been argued. However, there are interesting differences between the texts, which I aim to explore further at a later stage. Mapping the differences between the three texts will allow us to establish what changes are likely to have been made in the creation of Clári saga –​which will help us better understand the original function of the text and may shed light on the society for which it was created.

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Hallberg, Peter. Stilsignalement och författarskap i norrön sagalitteratur. Synpunkter och exempel. Acta Nordistica Gothoburgensia 3. Gothenburg: University of Gothenburg, 1968. Halvorsen, Eyvind Fjeld. “Høvisk stil.” In Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder fra vikingetid til reformationstid, 7:315–​18. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde og Bagger, 1962. Halvorsen, Eyvind Fjeld. “Lærd og folkelig stil (Island og Norge).” In Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder fra vikingetid til reformationstid, 11:119–​23. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde og Bagger, 1966. Hughes, Shaun F. D. “Klári saga as an Indigenous Romance.” In Romance and Love in Late Medieval and Early Modern Iceland. Essays in Honor of Marianne Kalinke, edited by Kirsten Wolf and Johanna Denzin, 135–​63. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Library, 2008. Hughes, Shaun F. D. “The Old Norse Exempla as Arbiters of Gender Roles in Medieval Iceland.” In New Norse Studies. Essays on the Literature and Culture of Medieval Scandinavia, edited by Jeffrey Turco, 255–​300. Ithaca: Cornell University Library, 2015. Jakobsen, Alfred. Studier i Clarus saga: Til spørsmålet om sagaens norske proveniens. Årbok for Universitetet i Bergen, Humanistisk serie 1963, no. 2. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1964. Johansson, Karl G. “A Scriptorium in Northern Iceland. Clárus saga (AM 657 a-​b 4to) revisited.” In Sagas and the Norwegian Experience. 10th International Saga Conference Trondheim, 3. –​9. August 1997. Preprints, 323–​31. Trondheim: ntnu, Senter for middelalderstudier, 1997. Johansson, Karl G. “Bergr Sokkason och Arngrímur Brandsson –​översättare och författare i samma miljö.” In Old Norse Myths, Literature and Society: Proceedings of the 11th International Saga Conference 2–​7 July, University of Sydney, edited by Geraldine Barnes and Margaret Clunies Ross, 181–​97. Sydney: Centre for Medieval Studies, University of Sydney, 2000. Kalinke, Marianne. “Table Decorum and the Quest for a Bride in Clári saga.” In At the Table. Metaphorical and Material Cultures of Food in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, edited by Timothy J. Tomasik and Juliann M. Vitullo, 51–​72. Turnhout: Brepols, 2007. https://​doi.org/​10.1484/​M.ASMAR-​EB.3.3043. Kalinke, Marianne. “Clári saga. A Case of Low German Infiltration.” Scripta Islandica 59 (2008): 5–​25. Kirby, Ian J. “Stjórn.” In Medieval Scandinavia. An Encyclopedia, edited by Phillip Pulsiano and Kirsten Wolf, 611–​12. New York: Garland, 1993. Krohn, Kaarle. Übersicht über einige Resultate der Märchenforschung. ff Communications, vol. 96. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1931. Morabito, Raffaele. Le virtùdi Griselda. Storia di una storia. Florence: Leo S. Olschki, 2017. Mulchahey, M. Michèle. “First the Bow is Bent in Study”: Dominican Education before 1350. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Mediaeval Studies, 1998.

122 Ragnheiðardóttir Philippson, Ernst. Der Märchentypus von König Drosselbart. ff Communications, vol. 50. Greifswald: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 1923. Rosenberg, Bruce A. Folklore and Literature. Rival siblings. Knoxville: The University of Tennessee Press, 1991. Rüegg, Madeline. The Patient Griselda Myth. Looking at Late Medieval and Early Modern European Literature. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter, 2019. https://​doi.org/​10.1515/​ 9783110628715. Sif Rikhardsdottir. Medieval Translations and Cultural Discourse. The Movement of Texts in England, France and Scandinavia. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2012. Stefán Karlsson. “Icelandic Lives of Thomas á Becket: Questions of Authorship.” In Proceedings of the First International Saga Conference, University of Edinburgh 1971, edited by Peter Foote, Hermann Pálsson and Desmond Slay, 212–​43. London: Viking Society for Northern Research, 1973. [Reprinted in Stefán Karlsson. Stafkrókar. Ritgerðir eftir Stefán Karlsson gefnar út í tilefni af sjötugsafmæli hans 2. desember 1998, edited by Guðvarður Már Gunnlaugsson, 135–​52. Reykjavik: Stofnun Árna Magnússonar, 2000.] Sverrir Tómasson. “Helgisagnaritun á 14. öld –​norðlenski Benediktínaskólinn.” In Íslensk bókmenntasaga, vol. 2, 2nd ed., edited by Vésteinn Ólason, 249–​ 63. Reykjavik: Mál og menning, 2006. Uther, Hans-​Jörg. The Types of International Folktales. A Classification and Bibliography. 3 vols. FF Communications 284–​86. Helsinki: Suomalainen Tiedeakatemia, 2004. Védís Ragnheiðardóttir. “Formáli Clári sögu –​eða –​að vera eða vera ekki ritklif.” In Gott skálkaskjól. Veitt Gottskálki Jenssyni sextugum 4. apríl 2018, edited by Guðvarður Már Gunnlaugsson and Annette Lassen, 86–​88. Reykjavik: Menningar-​og minningarsjóður Mette Magnussen, 2018. Widding, Ole. “Alfred Jakobsen. Studier i Clarus saga. Til spørsmålet om sagaens norske proveniens. Anm. av Ole Widding og Eyvind Fjeld Halvorsen.” Maal og minne (1966): 149–​68. Wolf, Kirsten. “Reflections on the Color of Esau’s Pottage of Lentils (Stjórn 160.26-​ 161.9).” Gripla 16 (2005): 251–​57.

pa rt 3 Manuscripts and Illuminations

∵

­c hapter 6

Jón Halldórsson and Law Manuscripts of Western Iceland c. 1320–​40 Stefan Drechsler Fourteenth-​century Iceland is famous for the magnitude and diversity of its manuscripts and fragments featuring various forms of vernacular literature, as well as select Latin texts.1 Despite the great number, little is known about the production of these manuscripts and fragments. The following chapter explores a possibility to link select manuscripts with the internationally educated Dominican Jón Halldórsson (d. 1339), who served as the thirteenth bishop of Iceland’s southern diocese of Skálholt in 1322–​39.2 It will be shown that textual evidence in the theological handbook AM 671 4to, the law codex am 343 fol. (Svalbarðsbók), as well as administrative literacy through the production of máldagar (Church charters), provide potential references for Bishop Jón’s influence on the western Icelandic book production of his time. It must be borne in mind, however, that although a number of indications suggest such an influence, no first-​hand evidence is known to link Jón Halldórsson with the manuscripts mentioned above. The following chapter therefore is intended as a theoretical framework only. 1

Administrative Literacy in Western Iceland c. 1320–​40

Einarr Hafliðason’s (1307–​97) contemporary bishops’ saga Lárentíus saga biskups portrays Bishop Jón and the saga’s eponymous protagonist, Bishop Lárentíus Kálfsson (1267–​1331) of Hólar, as exceptionally active bishops promoting administrative literacy. During the Möðruvallamál in 1326–​ 28 in

1 A total of 300 vernacular manuscripts are known from the 14th century of Iceland alone. No secure statistics exist on the number of Latin manuscripts, but 218 Latin fragments are known from medieval Scandinavia, most of which originate from Icelandic scriptoria. For these, see Guðvarður Már Gunnlaugsson, “Latin fragments related to Iceland.” 2 For the vita of Jón Halldórsson, see Gering, “Vorrede,” in Islendzk Æventyri, 2: vi–​xxviii. For the international education of medieval Scandinavian Dominicans, see Schütz, Hüter der Wirklichkeit, 88–​92, 134–​40.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_008

126 Drechsler particular,3 a multitude of letters were issued by both bishops, and act as standard way of communication of various sorts. Although few of the letters mentioned in Lárentíus saga survive,4 a considerable amount of the altogether 60–​70 documents related in the saga might indeed have existed, and distinctly demonstrate an introduction of administrative literacy in Iceland by that time at the latest.5 Accordingly, in contrast to literary topoi for which letters were used in the kings’ sagas,6 and in Sturlunga saga,7 the administrative literacy in Lárentíus saga is based on historical evidence.8 Somehow or other, the use of letters for clerical communication in Lárentíus saga is undoubtedly based on Bishop Jón’s education, too: famously credited as an excellent speaker in Latin and Old Norse,9 Clári saga indeed proves his ability to fluently integrate (juristic) Latin and (Bergen-​trade-​related) Middle Low German terms into the Old Norse saga text.10 Furthermore, Sǫguþáttr af Jóni Halldórssyni biskupi (Sǫguþáttr), which was likely written by Arngrímr Brandsson, and tells of the life of Bishop Jón with a novel use of exempla,11 might indicate Jón 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

11

On the authorship of Lárentíus saga, see Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, introduction to Biskupa sögur III, lxv–​lxvii. On the Möðruvallamál, see Torfi K. Stefánsson Hjaltalín, Eldur á Möðruvöllum, 1: 31–​35, 48–​48. For letters mentioned in Lárentíus saga, and references to the surviving documents, see Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, introduction to Biskupa sögur III, lxxxviii–​xcii. On administrative literacy in 14th-​ century Iceland, see Rohrbach, “Construction, Organisation, Stabilisation,” 227–​63. See also Embla Aae’s chapter in the present volume. Wellendorf, “Letters from Kings.” Rohrbach, “The Written Legacy.” For historical components in the contemporary bishops’ sagas, see Ásdís Egilsdóttir, “Biskupasögur og helgar ævisögur,” vii–​xvii. Lárentíus saga, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 403–​4. It is a matter of contention who exactly is the author of Clári saga. Shaun F. D. Hughes, among others, has argued for an authorship of Jón Halldórsson. See Hughes, “Klári saga as an Indigenous Romance.” Stefán Karlsson has suggested Arngrímr Brandsson, who was an assistant to Jón Halldórsson in the late 1320s, and became abbot of Þingeyrar in 1351. In the 1340s, Arngrímr wrote a range of religious literature as part of the so-​called Norðlendski Benediktskólinn. See Stefán Karlsson, “Icelandic Lives of Thomas à Becket,” 227–​28. For the life of Arngrímr, see Jón Helgason, introduction to Biskupa sǫgur: MS Perg. fol. No. 5 in the Royal Library of Stockholm, 16–​18. Arngrímr Brandsson is the most likely author of Sǫguþáttr, among other texts, due to his personal contact with Bishop Jón. For its authorship, see Stefán Karlsson, “Icelandic Lives of Thomas à Becket”, 227–​28 and 236–​37, as well as Johansson, “Bergr Sokkason och Arngrímur Brandsson översättare och författare i samma miljö,” 85–​86 and 188–​89. It has also been assumed that the Sǫguþáttr was composed by Arngrímr’s contemporary Bergr Sokkason. For this, see Sverrir Tómasson, “Trúarbókmenntir í lausu máli á síðmiðöld,” 249–​57, 264–​68. For the Dominican use of exempla for preaching, see Schütz, Hüter der Wirklichkeit, 181–​86.

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Halldórsson’s influence on the writing of vernacular ecclesiastical literature in northern Iceland,12 and his education in Paris and Bologna prior to his move to Skálholt in 1323.13 Nevertheless, not much is known about his time in Iceland, apart from the stated letter exchange in Lárentíus saga, and statutes of various sorts.14 Yet, from several of his recorded travels through the Westfjord region, involvement in local politics and manuscript production may be suggested. Bishop Jón visited the Westfjords in 1324, 1330, 1333 and 1336.15 A number of máldagar16 and consecrations of parish churches in 1327, 1330, 1333 and 1336 indicate that he not only instructed Church charters to be made, but also consecrated a number of churches himself.17 His recorded travels are well based on the section “Um yfirferð byskups” in the vernacular Icelandic Church law Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar (3) from 1275, where bishops are instructed to travel through their dioceses annually to confirm children, sanctify churches, as well as to conduct other church-​related services.18 In addition to Bishop Jón’s activities in the Westfjords, a large number of máldagar written in the years 1331–​32 have survived, pertaining to churches south of Skálholt Cathedral in Árnessýsla (1331) and Rangárvallasýsla (1332).19 Similar to other Church charters from the 14th century, they provide fairly detailed lists of inventories including a number of vernacular saga manuscripts that in their textual content generally mirror the patronal saint(s) of the respective church. It remains unknown where and when the manuscripts from the parish churches were produced, as none of the Church charters refer to local scriptoria. However, the sheer number of the máldagar that survived –​most

12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

Sverrir Tómasson, “Trúarbókmenntir í lausu máli á síðmiðöld,” 265–​418. Gering, “Vorrede,” viii. For the international background of the Sǫguþáttr, see Marteinn Sigurðsson, “ ‘Djöfullinn gengur um sem öskrandi ljón.’ ” For the (shared) statutes of Jón Halldórsson, see Diplomatarium Islandicum (hereinafter di) 2: 510–​69, 582–​95, 612–​14. In addition, two letters were suggested to also have come from Bishop Jón. For them, see di, 2: 596–​606, 611. Islandske Annaler, ed. Storm (hereinafter ia), 346–​50. di, 2: 575–​77, 615–​17, 634–​37, 650–​51. di, 2: 633–​34, 672–​73, 699–​700; ia, 347, 350. See Haraldur Bernharðsson et al., ed., Járnsíða og Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 148–​ 49. Similar travels are also recorded for the two subsequent bishops of Skálholt, Jón Indriðason (1339–​41) and Jón Sigurðsson (1343–​48). See ia, 351, 353. Thirty-​nine máldagar are known from these areas which were written in 1331–​32. For them, see di, 2: 661–​73, 675–​700. They survived in two manuscripts only: Lbs 268 4to from 1601, and am 263 fol. from 1598. For their dating, see di, 2: 678. Most other medieval máldagar are collected as part of collections. For an overview, see Erika Sigurdsson, “Máldagabækur and Administrative Literacy,” 24–​41.

128 Drechsler written as single charters during a bishop’s time in medieval Iceland –​provide ample evidence for a highly productive administrative literacy. 2

The Theological Handbook am 671 4to

During the time Bishop Jón travelled through the Westfjord region, a number of manuscripts were produced at a yet-​unlocated workshop from the southern part of the Westfjords: the so-​called Barðastrandasýsla group.20 Manuscripts and fragments that belong to this group contain illuminated Old Norse literature,21 as well as Biblical and Canonical texts, Church calendars, and the oldest evidence of Jón Halldórsson’s statutes from 1323 and 1326. The Latin codex am 671 4to was partly written at that workshop and features the oldest known collection of canonical literature in Iceland. The existence of Canon law texts in an Icelandic manuscript is unique for its time: while Canon laws had been in use at Skálholt by 1269 at the latest,22 no such law manuscript has survived from that time. Nevertheless, use of canonistic literature is clearly traceable in the hagiographic Jóns saga baptista II, which was written in the Skálholt diocese towards the end of the 13th century.23 20

21

22

23

The Barðastrandasýsla group consists of nine vernacular and Latin manuscripts and fragments written in 1300–​70 by two scribes. Scribe 1 was active in 1300–​25 and wrote the kings’ saga fragment am 325 viii 4 c 4to, the Heimskringla manuscript am 45 fol. (Codex Frisianus) together with a second scribe, as well as the Latin fragment am 241 a i fol. & am 249 p fol. Scribe 2 wrote the kings’ saga fragment Perg 4to 4 & am 325 xi 2 h 4to in 1320–​40, sections of the theological handbook am 671 4to and the calendar KBAdd 1 (Ártíðaskrá Vestfirðinga). Slightly later, in 1340–​60, scribe 2 wrote the law manuscript am 346 fol. (Staðarfellsbók), as well as the Biskupa saga codex am 399 4to (Codex Resenianus) and the Sturlunga saga manuscript am 122 a fol. (Króksfjarðarbók) in 1350–​70. For their dating and location, see Stefán Karlsson, introduction to Guðmundar sögur biskups, 1:xl, xli. Jonna Louis-​Jensen has also suggested the group originated from the Seldælir and Vatnsfjörður families. See Jonna Louis-​Jensen, Kongesagastudier, 19–​21, and Jonna Louis-​ Jensen, “Fra skriptoriet i Vatnsfjörður i Eiríkr Sveinbjarnarsons tid.” For the book painting in the Barðastrandasýsla group, see Lena Liepe, Studies in Icelandic Fourteenth Century Book Painting (Reykholt: Snorrastofa, 2009), 183–​242, and Stefan Drechsler, “Illuminated Manuscript Production in Western Iceland in the Thirteenth and Early Fourteenth Centuries,” Gripla 28 (2017): 177–​80. Árna saga biskups, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 13, mentions that Bishop Árni Þorláksson owned a “Decretum cum apparatu,” which was possibly a copy of Gratian’s Decretum, and Gregory ix’s Liber extra. For this, see Sigurður Líndal, “Um þekkingu Íslendinga á rómverskum og kanónískum rétti,” 254, and Magnús Lyngdal Magnússon, “Kátt er þeim af kristinrétti,” 55. For the use of canonical literature in Jóns saga baptista II see Vadum, “Canon Law and Politics in Grímr Hólmsteinsson’s Jóns saga baptista II.”

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am 671 4to is a highly complex compendium manuscript with varied ecclesiastical contents, largely organized as a theological handbook. It consists of five production units, 24 each of which was written independently, but ultimately follows a similar focus: an introduction to, and use of, medieval theology and Canon law in the parts i (fols. 1–​8, fols. 24–​31, and fols. 35–​39), ii (fols. 9–​16), iv (fols. 32–​34), and v (fols. 40–​63), with additional ecclesiastical statutes in parts iii (fols. 17–​23) and iv (fols. 30r9–​31v19), among other texts (see Table A.1 in the Appendix).25 Parts i and v can be traced to western Iceland, more precisely to Barðastrandasýsla and Snæfellsnes: Part i was to a certain extent written in Barðastrandasýsla and features a selection of 13th-​century canonical and other ecclesiastical texts, which altogether provide a select overview of standard Canon law dated to c. 1220–​34.26 Part i, together with part v, belongs to the oldest subgroup of the codex from 1320–​40,27 the same time when Jón Halldórsson was Bishop of Skálholt. Unsurprisingly, the mise-​en-​page of the first gathering shows that the general idea of a Glossa ordinaria with added provenances was known by the time of writing. Yet, in comparison, no such manuscript was used as a model, since such a layout is missing throughout am 671 4to.28 Nevertheless, it seems fitting for the time of Bishop Jón, that in 24

For manuscript production units, see Gumbert, “One book with many texts,” 27–​36, and Kwakkel, “Towards a Terminology,” 12–​19. 25 For the content and codicological structure of am 671 4to, see Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 239–​42. 26 For the content and dating of these texts, see Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 28, 33–​35, 244–​49. The first production unit of am 671 4to includes sections from Raymund of Peñafort’s Summa de casibus, Gratian’s Decretum, Gregory ix’s Liber extra and Guiliemus Paraldus’ Summa de virtutibus et vitiis. In addition, short additions from the Book of Proverbs were added to the margins, as well as sections of Pharetra and St Augustin’s Sermo. While most parts from Gratian’s Decretum (pars secunda) was added by the Barðastrandasýsla scribe 2, the major scribe from that part added most of the other content, together with several hands found in the margins. The same scribe also wrote parts of (potentially) Clarus of Florence’s Nota sex in the sixth gathering on fols. 36r–​39v, as well as a version of the seventh letter of Bernhard of Clairvaux in the fourth on fols. 25r23–​26r2; and part of a list of Church days in the fourth gathering on fol. 24r1-​ 22, together with yet another scribe. For these parts, see Table A.1 in the Appendix, with further references. 27 Overall, am 671 4to was written in the first half of the 14th century. For the dating, see Stefán Karlsson, introduction to Guðmundar sögur biskups, xl, xli, Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 15, 16, di, 2: 594–​95, and, as well as for its earliest provenance from the 17th century at Skálholt, Kålund, Katalog, 87. 28 The Glossa ordinaria is a collection of biblical commentaries written by canonists such as Bartholomew of Brescia (d. 1258) or Giovanni d’Andrea (d. 1348) for Gratian’s Decretum or Gregory ix’s Liber extra. They are normally written in two columns and placed around the main text written in further two columns in the inner part. Jón Halldórsson certainly

130 Drechsler part i in particular, several texts are found that define various ways of excommunication: two sections of Raymund of Peñafort’s Summa de casibus on fol. 7r24–​33 and fol. 27v12–​32 are the most obvious examples, but the related statute from Bishop Árni Þorláksson (1237–​98) on fol. 31v1–​19 from 1280, as well as a yet unidentified Latin commentary on fol. 27r1–​23 specifying ten examples where a previous judgement on excommunication is invalidated,29 suggest that particular interest in canonical rules of excommunication existed by the time of writing in 1220–​40. According to entries in medieval Icelandic annals, several priests were indeed killed or severely wounded in the Skálholt diocese during the 1320s and 1330s.30 Accordingly, the urgency to define, renew and extend previously made provisions for (automatic) excommunication dealing with killings and wounding of priests, such as in part i of am 671 4to and in Jón Halldórsson’s statute (or skipan) Bannsakabréf, appear to be based on a first-​ hand need to secure the safety of priests.31 The Bannsakabréf itself is found in part iii, written without further paratext by a professional Gothic textualis hand. The statute features a list of twenty-​ four ways of excommunication, some of which are already stated in the aforementioned statute of Árni Þorláksson, as well as in his Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar from 1275.32 Further examples in Bannsakabréf are based on statutes of Pope Boniface viii’s Liber sextus, Pope Innocent iv’s Apparatus in quinque libros decretalium, as well as the statute of Cardinal William of Modena (1184–​1251) as it appears in a statute of the Norwegian Archbishop Jón rauði (d. 1282) from 1280, and again in Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar.33 Overall, Bishop Jón’s Bannsakabréf appears so closely related to these texts, it is very likely that he translated them directly from the respective sources.34 A number of

29 30 31 32 33 34

knew Giovanni d’Andrea’s Glossa ordinaria from his studies, but several of the texts featured in the first production unit related to Barðastrandasýsla were most likely known in Iceland before 1323. For glosses in Canon law manuscripts, see Dolezalek, “Libro magistrorum,” 317. For Jón Halldórsson and the Glossa ordinaria by Giovanni d’Andrea see Drechsler, “The Illuminated Þjófabálkr,” 27–​28. Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 36. The short addition on fol. 27r is written as a note as both the size of script and overall use of the folio leaves largely differ from other parts of the same gathering. ia, 206–​7, 271, 348–​50, 398–​99; di, 2:723–​24, 731. The introduction and development of papal or automatic excommunication based on the canon Si quis suadente, and its transmission in Icelandic law manuscripts from the 14th century, has been recently discussed by Walgenbach in “The Canon Si Quis Suadente.” For the Bannsakabréf, see di, 2: 82–​94, Lára Magnúsardóttir, Bannfæring og kirkjuvald, 185–​86, 395–​96, and Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 396–​410. See Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 299–​368, 396–​410. Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 397.

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them indeed appear in the parts i, iv and v of am 671 4to. Part iii also features Jón Halldórsson’s statute on the feast days of Corpus Christi and St Magnús Erlendsson (1080–​1115) on fol. 23v20–​26,35 as well as Bishop Jón’s renewal of the third statute of Archbishop Eilífr Árnason (1311–​32) from 1323(–​48) on fol. 17r29–​20v18, together with the first statute of Archbishop Eilífr from 1320 on fol. 17r1–​29.36 The first two were introduced in 1326 and are widely mentioned in the Icelandic annals.37 The text in am 671 4to might indeed date to the same year.38 Fittingly, one of the other manuscripts written by scribe 2 from Barðastrandasýsla, the calendar KBAdd 1 (Ártíðaskrá Vestfirðinga), features on fol. 6v the oldest reference to the church day of St Magnús (December 13). Accordingly, it was probably produced at approximately the same time as the statutes in am 671 4to: c. 1326,39 around the same time when Bishop Jón visited the Westfjords. All production units of am 671 4to follow a similar mise-​en-​page consisting of a single column with 32–​33 lines of text and a comparable space in the margins. However, little speaks for a common early provenance of all these sections.40 Nevertheless, part i and v might be connected: Part v was largely produced in Barðastrandasýsla, as mentioned above.41 On fol. 63r, the last folio leaf of the 35 di, 2: 594–​95. 36 di, 2: 498–​500, 512–​33. 37 See di, 2: 595. 38 See di, 2: 594–​95, for a short discussion on the dating. It must be kept in mind that according to Stefán Karlsson, “The Localisation and Dating of Medieval Icelandic Manuscripts,” 140, it is almost impossible to date medieval Icelandic manuscripts more narrowly than to within 50 years if the dating is based on the script and orthography only. 39 Liepe, Studies, 187. Previously, the dating of kb Add 1 fol. was proposed to 1300–​25. This appears unlikely as the Feast of St Magnús was written contemporaneously with the other main content. For previous dating of kb Add 1 fol., see Íslenzkar ártíðaskrár, ed. Jón Þorkelsson, 114, and Stefán Karlsson, introduction to Guðmundar sögur biskups, 1:xl. 40 This is seen in part ii which features the unique Ordo iudiciarius (Bergensis), an ecclesiastical procedural law text with a particular use for Bergen in Norway. Although this part is written in a somewhat similar fashion as other sections of am 671 4to, the quality and colour of the folios themselves differ and suggest a different place of production. Therefore, a connection of this part to Jón Halldórsson cannot be verified, despite his early education in Bergen. For part ii, see Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 14–​16, 250–​75. 41 See Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 45–​82, 299–​368. Part v was written by two hands and contains a consistent and somewhat modernised compilation of Church law texts, featuring sections of Innocent iv’s Apparatus, Gratian’s Decretum (from pars prima and pars secunda), Gregory ix’s Liber extra and Bartholomew of Brescia’s Glossa ordinaria, all written by a single scribe. Further sections include parts of Pseudo-​Hieronymus’ Libellus fidei, as well as Vincent of Beauvais’ Speculum historiale and Goffredus of Trano’s Summa super titulis decretalium.

132 Drechsler codex, a short note states that “þessa bok hefer snorri aandresson bvndit ok skarttada ravdu skini” (Snorri Andrésson has bound this book and decorated with red leather).42 Snorri was a wealthy farmer from Bjarnarhöfn near to the house of canons regular at Helgafell in the northern part of Snæfellsnes, and in exchange for several lands he sold to Helgafell, he became a próventumaðr of the monastery in the 1360s.43 Due to the note in am 671 4to and its ecclesiastical content most usable for a monastery, Snorri was probably connected as book binder to the famous illuminated book production at Helgafell by the time am 671 4to was completed. Yet none of the scribes of part v of am 671 4to can be linked with that workshop with certainty.44 Furthermore, from how the manuscript appears today, the note by Snorri must be considered with caution: both sides of fol. 63r have a slightly darker colour compared to the parts i and v, and also the short vernacular wedding speech written on the same folio leaf on fol. 63r1–​5 does not correspond to other parts of am 671 4to. Fol. 63r, with other words, might well have come from a now-​lost manuscript, or was only added to am 671 4to when it was bound by Snorri. Unfortunately, the original binding of Snorri has not survived. Furthermore, several folios of the codex are sewed together, which makes it even harder to establish its original structure.45 Textual links between the parts i, iii, iv and v might however hint towards a similar canonical use of the texts, and a partly shared early provenance: Since the parts i and v hint towards productions in Snæfellsnes and Barðastrandasýsla, they might be connected to workshops which have direct links with Bishop Jón Halldórsson’s intervention at Helgafell during his first travel to the Westfjords in 1324, when he used his episcopal authority to select a new abbot for the house of canons regular.46 It so happens that part v of am 671 4to contains sections of Innocent iv’s Apparatus (x 3.35.1 and x 3.36.6) that discuss the authority of a bishop over monks/​priests and abbots in his diocese.47 Although the respective section in am 671 4o on fol. 41r15–​41v2 does not indicate first-​hand evidence for the change of abbot at Helgafell,48 nevertheless this coincidence is striking. But similar to the texts and statutes stating the different ways of excommunication in the parts i, iii and iv, it should still 42 43 44 45 46 47 48

The stated translation is made by me. For Snorri Andrésson, am 671 4to and Helgafell, see Guðvarður Már Gunnlaugsson, “Voru scriptoria í íslenskum klaustrum?” 184–​89, di, 3: 34–​44, 313–​14, and di, 4: 12, 19–​20, 22–​23. Drechsler, “Illuminated Manuscript Production in Western Iceland,” 183. For the book production at Helgafell, see Drechsler, Illuminated Manuscript Production in Medieval Iceland (forthcoming). See Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 31. ia, 346. Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 61, 68–​70. Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 68.

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be viewed in a contemporary medieval light: A máldagi from Helgafell from 1397 states that the monastery owned almost 100 Latin books at that time.49 Although nothing is known about these manuscripts, a relation of am 671 4to to Helgafell is indeed possible: most of its vernacular statutes are found again in a law manuscript produced there in 1363, am 350 fol. (Skarðsbók).50 It is likely that the combination of texts in am 671 4to contributed to a new way of combining secular and ecclesiastical laws in a single manuscript in western Iceland in 1320–​40. This is not only attested in the law manuscript Skarðsbók from 1363, but also one of its textual models, am 343 fol. (Svalbarðsbók), which was most likely produced during the time of Jón Halldórsson. 3

The Law Manuscript am 343 fol. (Svalbarðsbók)

The previously mentioned rise of administrative literacy in the 14th century is closely related to an increase of vernacular law manuscript production.51 Svalbarðsbók is a unique codex in its textual and iconographic contents, and similar to the excommunication texts in am 671 4to, it might mirror some political errand of its time. Svalbarðsbók was most likely written in 1330–​40 by a skilled scribe,52 and features the earliest evidence of the interpolated redaction of the Icelandic law Jónsbók,53 in which most of altogether eighty-​eight paragraphs of three major Réttarbœtr (law amendments) from 1294, 1305 and 1314 were first integrated into the law text.54 This by itself is unique for the whole of western Scandinavia as no manuscript containing the major text-​ structural model for Jónsbók, the widely-​copied Norwegian Landslǫg, features similar textual arrangements.55 As Diagram A.1 in the Appendix illustrates,

49 50 51 52

53

54 55

di, 4: 167. For the dating of am 350 fol., see Kålund, Katalog, i: 284–​85. For its textual structure and content, see Jakob Benediktsson, Skarðsbók, 11–​15. See Rohrbach, “Construction, Organisation, Stabilisation,” for an overview. The history of am 343 fol. is unknown until the 17th century, but it was used as textual and iconographic model for am 350 fol. and other law manuscripts from western Iceland throughout the 14th century. For the dating of am 343 fol., see Ólafur Halldórsson, Jónsbók, xliv; for its provenance, see Kålund, Katalog, 1:279. Jónsbók was ratified and posthumously introduced to Iceland by King Magnús lagabœtir Hákonarson (1238–​80) of Norway. A few decades before, in 1262–​64, Iceland had become part of the Norwegian kingdom. For the establishment of Jónsbók and its medieval transmission, see Már Jónsson, introduction to Jónsbók, 15–​30. Már Jónsson, introduction to Jónsbók, 20–​22. Landslǫg is the national law code of Norway from 1274, built on the revision of a number of regional laws promulgated at the legal assemblies of Norway in 1267–​74 under

134 Drechsler Svalbarðsbók is not much related to earlier manuscripts containing Jónsbók. In addition, in Svalbarðsbók, not only is the content of the secular law expanded, but a specific section of Jónsbók, the Kristindómsbálkr, is altered. It constitutes the second main section of the regional law which defines the division of powers between the Norwegian king and the (Icelandic) bishops, as well as the rules on royal succession. While Kristindómsbálkr sees several shifts in the length and nature of its contents in earlier and later Scandinavian manuscripts containing Jónsbók or Landslǫg,56 its content in Svalbarðsbók is unparalleled in the fourteenth century. At the end of Kristindómsbálkr, the so-​ called Hirðsiðir are added, a subsection which consists of thirteen subchapters taken from the Norwegian court-​law Hirðskrá from 1276, and the previously mentioned Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar. Similar to the new redaction of Jónsbók in Svalbarðsbók, the addition of sections of Hirðskrá and Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar to a secular Icelandic law manuscript is novel, since both were only individually transmitted before.57 In addition, according to the manuscript layout, the Konungs þegnskylda section of Jónsbók, which follows, is considered part of the Kristindómsbálkr too, as it is introduced by similar minor initials as previous subsections.58 The content and structure of the Kristindómsbálkr in Svalbarðsbók is shown in Table 6.1. Although the subsection in Kristindómsbálkr defines basic Church regulations, it appears particularly brief and may be regarded as a supplement to Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar,59 as well as vernacular ecclesiastical statutes. Before Svalbarðsbók, however, secular and ecclesiastical laws are rarely combined in a single law manuscript in Iceland.60 Altogether, Svalbarðsbók is the earliest Icelandic law manuscript to combine secular and ecclesiastical

56 57

58 59 60

the auspices of King Magnús Hákonarson. For a list of the medieval manuscripts and fragments of Landslǫg, see Rindal and Spørck, introduction to Kong Magnus Håkonsson Lagabøtes landslov, 1:18–​38. See Jacobsen, “Om lovbøgernes kristendomsbalk.” Up until 1330, Hirðskrá is otherwise only found in Norwegian law manuscripts: in am 304 fol., am 322 fol., and Lund ub Mh 15 fol. Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar in am 343 fol. is the second oldest evidence of the Church law. The oldest is found in am 49 8vo from 1300. For the dating of am 49 8vo, see di, 2: 56. For the section divisions and texts, see Járnsíða, ed. Haraldur Bernharðsson, 185–​87, Hirdskraa, ed. Keyser and Munch, 416–​17, 419–​22, 425–​26, 435–​37, and Jónsbók, ed. Már Jónsson, 89–​99. Már Jónsson, “Jónsbók. A Medieval Icelandic Manuscript,” 167. The only earlier examples are found in the two Grágás manuscripts am 334 fol. (Staðarhólsbók Grágásar) and gks 1157 fol. (Konungsbók Grágásar) from the second half of the 13th century. Both feature, as part of the Grágás text, the Christian law section Kristinna laga þáttr. For this, see footnote 76.

Jón Halldórsson and Law Manuscripts of Western Iceland135 table 6.1 Kristindómsbálkr in am 343 fol. (Svalbarðsbók)

Text

Section

Jónsbók

Kristindómsbálkr, 1

Hirðskrá

Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar

Rubric

Folio leaves

hér hefr ij hlut lavgbókar ǀ inz kristinn doms balkr at uer staðfestum ǀ til vera Kristindómsbálkr, 2 um sam ǀ þykkt konungs og byskups Kristindómsbálkr, 3 staðfesting huer konungr ǀ skal uera yfir ueita Kristindómsbálkr, 4 her segir um konungs skip ǀ an yfir norehgs uelldi Kristindómsbálkr, 5 um konungs kosning Kristindómsbálkr, 6 het þær erfar ǀ eigi til konungdomsins Kristindómsbálkr, 7 huersu konungr skal taka ǀ er heitir konungs Kristindómsbálkr, 10 lỏgmanna eiðstafr Kristindómsbálkr, 9 hirðstiora eiðstafr eða lendramanna Kristindómsbálkr, 11 alþyðu eið stafr Hirðskrá, 28 her segir huat hirðmannasiðir erv ǀ ok huersu þeir skuluuera Hirðskrá, 29 um siðsemdir ok hœuerku huersu Hirðskrá, 34 um eið suara konungs Hirðskrá, 39 um kirkna frið ok kuenna grið Hirðskrá, 40–​41 um misæti ǀ hirð mannana Kristinréttr Árna þetta leyfi gaf ǀ uilhialmr Þorlákssonar, 27 kardinali

6rb18-​vb7

Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 28 Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 29

leyfi vilhialms kardinals

12rb3-​22

um sunnu daga halld og aðra

12rb23-​vb7

6vb8-​7ra13 7ra14-​rb12 7rb13-​8ra3 8ra4-​rb25 8rb26-​va26 8va27-​vb18 8vb19-​9ra9 9ra10-​21 9ra22-​rb16 9ra17-​1rb16 10rb17-​11ra18 11ra19-​rb28 11va1-​24 11va25-​12ra18 12ra19-​rb2

136 Drechsler table 6.1 Kristindómsbálkr in am 343 fol. (Svalbarðsbók) (cont.)

Text

Jónsbók

Section

Rubric

Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 33 Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 34 (1) Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 34 (2) Konungs þegnskylda, 1

um eiða fram flut ǀ ningar 12vb8-​13ra5

um profan lỏgliga um ǀ maal huer mal fyrir logmanni skal sœkia eða biskupi hvat þeir skulu ǀ eiga er giallda skulu þingfarar kaup Konungs þegnskylda, a huerium timum syslu 2 skal reka Konungs þegnskylda, ef utlendir menn ǀ 3 uanuirda men

Folio leaves

13ra6-​24 13ra25-​va2 13va4-​vb18 13vb19-​14ra15 14ra16-​rb25

laws from the time of King Magnús lagabœtir Hákonarson (1238–​80). Yet, the Kristindómsbálkr provides a solely secular focus, since primarily hirðmenn-​ related provisions are addressed (Kristindómsbálkr, 9–​11, Hirðskrá, 28–​29, 34, 40–​41, and Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 34 [2]‌). Also, the integrated Konungs þegnskylda, 1–​2, has a similar focus, as it defines concession taxes and further related decrees, which appears to interface with subsections of Kristindómsbálkr, 9–​11, and Hirðskrá, 34. Less important in the Hirðsiðir subsection of Svalbarðsbók, however, are the decrees on obedience to the Church.61 Accordingly, the only relevant section on the authority of the Bishop is, apart from Kristindómsbálkr, 2, Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 34, 1–​2, which divides the jurisdiction of the two powers of a Christian commonwealth: Bishop and King (and his representatives). The mixture of secular and ecclesiastical matters might also be featured in the book painting of Svalbarðsbók. Generally, the manuscript appears to be one of the oldest law manuscripts from Scandinavia to feature historiated 61

The incorporated Statuta Vilhjálms kardinála on the obedience of Church days found in Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 27–​28 and 29, might mirror the statute of Jón Halldórsson from 20 July 1326 establishing the feast days of Corpus Christi and St Magnús, and his statute from 27 October in the same year, in which regulations on the share of whale meat

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book painting.62 It comprises four text-​related illuminations, one of which might have a loose relation to Jón Halldórsson: at the beginning of the Mannhelgisbálkr, which regulates the upholding of peace and settlement of struggles, a manslaughter is depicted (see Figure 6.1).63 The initial depicts the killing scene arguably in the form of a hidden homicide, indicated by a shield held by a helper of the killer before the killing. On the left outside of the initial, otherwise often taken as part of marginalia with little text-​ related relevance,64 a figure is depicted with a demanding gesture, condemning the killing spree as a lawless act. Although depictions of violations of law in medieval Scandinavian legal manuscripts are most likely based on earlier Decretum and Digestum vetus traditions,65 the figure in the margin appears to be unique. This figure is depicted with a pellegrina painted in red, which, despite a limited use of colours in Svalbarðsbók, might indicate a bishop. Unfortunately, pellegrina are nowhere else depicted in medieval Scandinavian art, and the secular Jónsbók section does not indicate any actions a bishop has in settling a manslaughter. In fact, the Hirðsiðir in Svalbarðsbók provides a clear answer when it refers to Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 34 (2) and its separation of the secular and ecclesiastical authorities as mentioned above. Nevertheless, convictions following a killing are not only referred to in the Bannsakabréf, but also in the third section of Bishop Jón’s Sǫguþáttr: the exemplum tells of Jón Halldórsson condemning the killing of a servant by a farmer at western Icelandic Staðarhóll which he might himself have visited

62

63

64 65

on feast days are defined. No cross-​text reference to these statutes, however, is provided in am 343 fol. For them, see di, 2: 582–​94, 612–​14. For the book painting in am 343 fol. and related manuscripts, see Liepe, Studies, 57–​64; for its iconographic relations, see Johansson and Liepe, “Text and Images.” Apart from am 343 fol., the contemporaneously produced gks 3269 b 4to features historiated book painting up until 1350. From Norway, two slightly earlier Landslǫg manuscripts feature historiated text-​related illuminations: Holm perg. 29 4to and Lund ub Mh 15 fol., but none of these codices provide iconographic or stylistic references to am 343 fol. The first of the other three initials is found on fol. 1v, at the beginning of Bréf Magnúss konungs, and depicts King Magnús Hákonarson handing over the law to a servant, potentially the bringer of the law to Iceland, its name giver Jón Einarson. The next initial is found at the beginning of the Þingfararbálkr on fol. 2v with a Majestas Domini iconography, and the third on fol. 84r at the Þjófabálkr, which shows the condemnation of a thief. For the latter, see Drechsler, “Thieves and Workshops.” For a survey on marginalia of illuminated medieval manuscripts, see Smith, “Margin.” For an example most likely used in Icelend, see Drechsler, “Illuminated Þjófabálkr,” 23–​27. For examples outside of Scandinavia, see Wittekind, “Ordnung und Verstoßin illuminierten Rechtshandschriften.”

138 Drechsler

­f igure 6.1  a m 343 fol. (Svalbarðsbók), fol. 14v: Mannhelgisbálkr. 1330–​40. The Árni Magnússon Institute, Reykjavik. Photo: Jóhanna Ólafsdóttir, The Árni Magnússon Institute, Reykjavik

in the late 1320s.66 However, it remains uncertain whether the book painting in Svalbarðsbók facilitates a connection to Jón Halldórsson directly.67 The 66 See Söguþáttur af Jóni biskupi Halldórssyni, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 450–​54, Gering, “Vorrede,” xxii–​xxiii, as well as Marteinn Helgi Sigurðsson, “The Life and Literary Legacy of Jón Halldórsson,” 56–​105. 67 The previously made assumption that Bishop Jón had a scribe and book painter called Þórarinn penturr Eiríksson in his service cannot be based on factual evidence as Þórarinn was only named on 14 June 1338 in relation to Jón Halldórsson by the bishop of Bergen, Hákon Erlingsson (1332–​42), to be asked to reclaim property after he severely wounded a priest at the estate of Vatnsfjörður in 1335 (Diplomatarium Norvegicum, 7: 170–​71, di,

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mise-​en-​page of Svalbarðsbók provides similarities with law manuscripts produced in the 1320s in western Norway:68 Lund ub Mh 15 fol. (Lundarbók), am 60 4to, am 304 fol. and am 322 fol., all produced in 1300–​21, share a similar professional layout with Svalbarðsbók: a neatly written Gothic textualis script with small space in between two columns that fill, according to their varying size, a fair amount of lines spanning from 27 (Lundarbók, similar to Svalbarðsbók), 33 (am 60 4to), to even 40 (am 322 fol. am 304 fol.). Reasonably unique for its time in Iceland, Svalbarðsbók has a similar large space left out in the margins.69 Also, the textual content of the Norwegian law codices –​featuring wide selection of ecclesiastical and secular legal contents70 –​are compared to earlier codices novel to the Landslǫg manuscript production, and might indeed speak for at least distant models for Svalbarðsbók. In addition, the Norwegian Lundarbók features an exceptional variety of historiated book painting which was finished in 1320,71 just in time for Bishop Jón to have encountered its visual contents. The iconography of Lundarbók, however, is not comparable to the book painting in Svalbarðsbók. But the general layout and textual mixture of the Norwegian Landslǫg manuscripts, as well as the initial appearance of historiated book painting both in Norway and shortly after in Iceland, might indicate similar ideas of how to compile and design vernacular law manuscripts. The Bannsakabréf and the two further statutes of Bishop Jón featured in am 671 4to, appear again in the impressive law manuscript Skarðsbók. As mentioned above, Skarðsbók was written at Helgafell in 1363, and is by far the most complex law manuscript known from medieval Iceland.72 The text of Svalbarðsbók appears to be a close model for Skarðsbók.73 Nevertheless, the Hirðsiðir subsection of Svalbarðsbók is not featured in Skarðsbók, as that codex features, among other texts, the complete Hirðskrá and Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, as well as Jón Halldórsson’s Bannsakabréf, his statutes on the two Church days, and a

68 69 70 71 72 73

2: 723–​24, ia, 349, 399). See Liepe, Studies, 130. For Þórarinn penturr and Jón Halldórsson, see Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, “Biskupsstóll í Skálholti,” 37. For literature on Þórarinn penturr and medieval Icelandic book painting, see Halldór Hermansson, Icelandic Illuminated Manuscripts of the Middle Ages, 13; Björn Th. Björnsson, “Þáttur av Þórarni pentur”; Jonna Louis-​Jensen, “Fra skriptoriet i Vatnsfjörður,” 127–​40, Drechsler, “Illuminated Þjófabálkr,” 29, and Guðbjörg Kristjánsdóttir, introduction to Íslenska teiknibókin, 36. See Horn, Lov og tekst i middelalderen, 108–​9, 112–​14, 116–​18, 146–​47, 162. Svalbarðsbók features a large amount of glosses, most of which were added after its initial production. See Drechsler, “Marginalia,” 187. For the contents of these manuscripts, see Storm, Norges Gamle Love indtil 1387, 4: 476, 502, 547, and Gödel, Fornnorsk-​isländsk Litteratur i Sverige, 1: 8–​9. Drechsler, “Production and Content,” 29–​44. See Rohrbach, “Repositioning Jónsbók.” Jónsbók, ed. Már Jónsson, 21–​25.

140 Drechsler plethora of further ecclesiastical and secular law texts, as well as Bible quotations. In that regard, Skarðsbók might be a western Icelandic follow-​up to texts first written down during the time of Bishop Jón, such as in parts of the codices Svalbarðsbók and am 671 4to. The Hirðsiðir in Svalbarðsbók, however, does not seem to have been particularly popular among the Icelandic aristocracy in the 14th century as no further manuscript from the same century features this sub-​section to Kristindómsbálkr. Yet around the turn of and throughout the 15th century it become popular when it was added to the interpolated Jónsbók text again, together with further secular and ecclesiastical law texts.74 In this light, Svalbarðsbók should be understood as an early model for a new understanding of Jónsbók, as well as a culmination of ecclesiastical and secular laws which are both related to Icelandic (Church days and separation of royal and episcopal authority) and Norwegian (court laws of the retainers) use. This trend is seen in both western and northern Icelandic manuscripts produced in the decades after Svalbarðsbók was finished. For example, scribe 2 from Barðastrandasýsla wrote not only sections to part i of am 671 4to and other Latin texts such as the aforementioned Ártíðaskrá Vestfirðinga, but also the law manuscript am 346 fol. (Staðarfellsbók) in 1340–​60.75 Besides Jónsbók, Staðarfellsbók also features Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, and further vernacular Church law material such as respective sections from the predecessor of Jónsbók, Járnsíða from 1271, and the Christian law section Kristinna laga þáttr of Grágás, the law of the Icelandic Commonwealth up to 1262–​ 64.76 As can be seen from Diagram A.1 in the Appendix, the Jónsbók text in Staðarfellsbók has few textual relations to Svalbarðsbók. In addition, the mis-​ en-​page and book painting of the manuscript does not appear to be related to Svalbarðsbók, but to other manuscripts from Barðastrandasýsla.77 In comparison to Svalbarðsbók, Staðarfellsbók provides a less elegant mise-​en-​page with small marginal spaces, and the text being written in one column only. In consequence, it seems the workshop responsible for Svalbarðsbók had little 74

As shown on Diagram A.1, the earliest manuscripts featuring an interpolated version of Jónsbók are the Svalbarðsbók-​copy am 354 fol. (Skálholtsbók yngri), and am 126 4to. Both are dated to around 1400. For the dating of these manuscripts, see Stefán Karlsson, “Af Skálholtsvist Skálholtsbókar yngri,” and Ólafur Halldórsson, introduction to Jónsbók, xlv. 75 For the dating of am 346 fol., see Stefán Karlsson, introduction to Guðmundar sögur biskups, xxxix–​xli. 76 The Kristinna laga þáttr sections are possibly based on 12th-​century Church laws made by the bishops Þorlákr Runólfsson (1086–​1133) of Skálholt and Ketill Þorsteinsson (1075–​ 1145) of Hólar. For a short introduction to Grágás and Kristinna laga þáttr, see Strauch, Mittelalterliches nordisches Recht, 224–​35. For the Christian law section in Járnsíða, see Magnús Lyngdal Magnússon, “Kátt er þeim af kristinrétti,” 60–​62. 77 For the book painting of am 346 fol., see Liepe, Studies, 227.

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contact with the Barðastrandasýsla group to which Staðarfellsbók and am 671 4to belong. However, the combination of secular and ecclesiastical legal contents appears indeed in both codices and the ecclesiastical setting in which scribe 2 worked in Barðastrandasýsla seems to have not only known but also actively produced both secular and ecclesiastical legal literature, similar to some of the content that is found in Svalbarðsbók. 3

Western Icelandic Politics c. 1320–​40

In a letter from 1323, Jón Halldórsson is mentioned as part of a committee consisting of Archbishop Eilífr, Bishop Hallvarðr of Hamar, Bishop Salomon Þorvaldsson of Oslo, and a number of liegemen to the king, to elect the nobleman Erlingr Viðkunsson (1293–​1355) as High Justiciar of Norway for the years up to 1331, when the rightful heir of the crown, Magnús Eiríksson (1316–​74), came of age.78 By that time, Jón had been consecrated bishop of Skálholt, and became a high member of the Church in the Archdiocese of Nidaros. He thus played a key role in the political spheres of the Norwegian realm, and, therefore, may well be called a clerical elite.79 A letter from King Magnús Eiríksson (1316–​74) from 26 March 1338 defining the authority of Bishop Jón over both secular and ecclesiastical businesses in the diocese, might further indicate that he had also dealt with both ecclesiastical and secular matters in Iceland, although to a lesser degree.80 In at least three instances, an involvement with secular matters is indicated: a) A document from 22 August 1327, written by Bishop Jón at the estate of Vatnsfjörður, defines the shared rights of stranded goods of the Skálholt diocese with secular landowners in the north-​western Icelandic Strandir region.81 b) In a letter from 1350, the selling of fishing rights by the previously named Snorri Andrésson to a Haukr Gunnarsson is declared. The letter indicates that Snorri based his part of the agreement on a máldagi from 1280, which also featured a letter from Bishop Jón supporting its official status.82

78 79 80 81 82

di, 2: 510. Erika Sigurdsson, The Church in Fourteenth-​Century Iceland, 149–​75. di, 2: 722–​23. See also Lára Magnúsardóttir, Bannfæring og kirkjuvald, 396–​97. di, 2: 621–​23. di, 2: 849–​50. See also Hermann Pálsson, Helgafell, 72–​73. Bishop Jón’s validation of the máldagi probably happened when he approved the consecration of a new church at Hrísar near to Helgafell on 2 April 1332. For this, see di, 2: 672–​73.

142 Drechsler c)

In 1330, Bishop Jón is mentioned as a guest at a wedding at Hagi in Barðastrandasýsla, together with several local sýslu-​and lǫgmenn: “herra Eirekr [Sveinbjarnarson from Vatnsfjörður] og herra Ketill [Þorláksson] og Snore logmadr [Narfason].”83 The background to the wedding and the families involved are largely unknown,84 but the listed guests speak for Bishop Jón’s contact with the local aristocracy. The wedding might indeed have had a larger political context with regard to the writings of Bishop Jón, which appear to have been relevant to both sýslumenn in their actions as representatives of the king: his instauration of the third statute of Archbishop Eilífr from 20 February 1323, his Bannsakabréf from 20 July 1326, and his statute on the sharing of whale meat on feast days from 27 October 1326, all relate to secular and ecclesiastical matters. Some echoes may be found in the separation of ecclesiastical and secular matters in the Kristindómsbálkr section of Svalbarðsbók (Hirðskrá, 39, and Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, 34 [2]‌), but overall, it defines only select regulations on the separation of royal and episcopal authorities. As Diagram A.1 in the Appendix shows, by the early 1330s, different ideas of how to compile manuscripts containing Jónsbók existed in Iceland, and the question arises as to why and to what extent the sýslu-​, hirð-​ and lǫgmenn might have been interested in letting manuscripts be produced in new, (Rettarbœtr-​) interpolated ways such as that exemplified in Svalbarðsbók. It might not be a surprise that with the arrival of Bishop Jón in Iceland, a considerably larger amount of information is available about the election of new representatives of the king in Iceland, the hirð-​ and sýslumenn, which indeed also rose in number in the 1320s in western Iceland.85 A cutting of vébǫnd at the Alþing in 1329 by the lǫgmaðr for the north and west of Iceland, Snorri Narfason (d.1332), might hint towards a general misunderstanding of the Jónsbók law code.86 Snorri lived at the western Icelandic Skarð á Skarðströnd and is also named above as one of the guests at Hagi. The fact that the cutting of the vébǫnd is mentioned in two annals might hint towards a supra-​regional importance in the legal struggle at the Alþingi during that year. Accordingly, the outcome was fairly severe as Snorri lost his post in the year after.87 It is unknown, however, if Jón Halldórsson had anything to do with the change of lǫgmenn in 1330. On 83 84 85 86 87

ia, 347. See also Erika Sigurdsson, The Church in Fourteenth Century Iceland, 17. Sverrir Jakobsson, Saga Breiðfirðinga, 1: 201. Axel Kristinsson, “Embættismenn konungs fyrir 1400,” 121–​29. The function of vébönd is described in the third subsection of the first major section of Jónsbók entitled Þingfararbálkr. For this subsection, see Jónsbók, ed. Már Jónsson, 83. ia, 347, 397. The next lǫgmaðr after Snorri Narfason was Grímr Þorsteinsson (d. 1350), who later also became knight and sýslumaðr to the king. Although not much more is

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the contrary, Bishop Jón’s travels to the Westfjords, as well as his statutes, indicate that he followed a pragmatic Church policy. This is hardly surprising as his international education, his political involvement in Norway prior to his stay at Skálholt, and the historical background to his statutes, suggest that he had planned to bring his diocese in line with standards of international Church politics of his time and before, in particular with one of the previous Skálholt bishops, Árni Þorláksson (1237–​98).88 Jón Halldórsson’s appreciation of the work of Bishop Árni is somewhat reflected in his analogue wish to empower the theory of the two swords in Skálholt, as well as the various references in his Bannsakabréf to Bishop Árni’s statute from 1280.89 Additionally, the final exemplum of his Sǫguþáttr describes a dream of Bishop Jón where he sees a peaceful communion of King Magnús Hákonarson of Norway and Archbishop Eilífr might also hint towards his wish to establish a clear separation of royal and episcopal authority in the Skálholt diocese.90 As discussed by Viðar Pálsson in the present volume, the theory of the two swords in Iceland is firmly based on earlier power struggles initially settled by Archbishop Jón rauði and King Magnús at the Agreement of Tønsberg in 1277, but largely refuted shortly after during the time of the next king of Norway, Eiríkr Magnússon (1268–​99). Previously, the separation of king and clergy is briefly discussed in the mid-​13th-​century Norwegian educational text Konungs skuggsjá,91 and it also is referred to in the Kristindómsbálkr of King Magnús’ Landslǫg.92 The theory of the two swords in the Kristindómsbálkr of Jónsbók is adapted from Landslǫg, but it is only first extended in the Hirðsiðir subsection of Svalbarðsbók. It remains unclear how exactly Svalbarðsbók mirrors local politics in western Iceland in the 1330s, but the separation of royal and episcopal authorities, as stated in the referred subsections of Hirðskrá and Kristinréttr Árna Þorlákssonar, reflect quite well the overall agenda of Jón Halldórsson. am 671 4to, on the other hand, stems from a clearly ecclesiastical setting, which in part might not only have been used for educational purposes,93 but also for first-​hand use: An example may be found known about him, Grímr’s standing to the Norwegian king might indeed make him an obvious client for Svalbarðsbók. 88 See Lára Magnúsardóttir, Bannfæring og kirkjuvald, 393–​99, for an example. 89 See Magnús Lyngdal Magnússon, “Kátt er þeim af kristinrétti,” 61–​65, Vadum, “Canon Law and Politics,”, 196–​98, and Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen ca. 1250–​1340,” 396–​410. 90 Söguþáttur af Jóni biskupi Halldórssyni, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 449. 91 Bagge, The Political Thought of the King’s Mirror, 113–​30. 92 See Kong Magnus Håkonsson Lagabøtes landslog, eds. Magnus Rindal and Bjørg Dale Spørck, 1:169–​72. 93 Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 299.

144 Drechsler in sections from Giulielmus Durantis’ Rationale divinorum officiorum from before 1286, which are found in part i. The Rationale divinorum officiorum is a standard work on the medieval Latin liturgy and discusses, among others, the Christian ritual’s relation to Church buildings and furniture, which might distantly reflect the numerous church sanctifications mentioned above. However, excommunication, most present in the Bannsakabréf in part iii and select passages in the parts i and iv, and the obedience of Church days, seemed to be the most immediate concerns, which is clearly mirrored in the history of western Iceland during the time, and the Church law writings of Jón Halldórsson.94

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Rohrbach, Lena. “The Written Legacy of the Sturlung Age –​Reflections on a Media Change.” In RE:writing. Medial perspectives on textual culture in the Icelandic Middle Ages, edited by Kate Heslop and Jürg Glauser, 165–​80. Zürich: Chronos, 2018. Schütz, Johannes. Hüter der Wirklichkeit. Der Dominikanerordern in der mittelalterlichen Gesellschaft Skandinaviens. Göttingen: V & R Unipress, 2014. Sigurdsson, Erika. “Máldagabækur and Administrative Literacy in Fourteenth-​Century Iceland.” Quaestio insularis 13 (2012): 24–​41. Sigurdson, Erika. The Church in Fourteenth-​Century Iceland: The Formation of an Elite Clerical Identity. The Northern World 72. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2016. Sigurður Líndal. “Um þekkingu Íslendinga á rómverskum og kanónískum rétti frá 12. öld til miðrar 16. aldar.” In Úlfljótur Afmælisrit 50 ára, edited by Þórólfur Jónsson, 241–​73. Reykjavik: Bókaútgáfan Codex, 1997. Smith, Kathryn A. “Margin.” In Studies in Iconography 33. Special Issue Medieval Art History Today –​Critical Terms, edited by Nina Rowe, 29–​44. Kalamazoo: Medieval Institute Publications, 2012. Stefán Karlsson. “Af Skálholtsvist Skálholtsbókar yngri.” Gripla 5 (1982): 197–​200. Stefán Karlsson. “Icelandic Lives of Thomas á Becket: Questions of Authorship.” In Proceedings of the First International Saga Conference, University of Edinburgh 1971, edited by Peter Foote, Hermann Pálsson and Desmond Slay, 212–​243. London: Viking Society for Northern Research, 1973. Stefán Karlsson. Introduction to Guðmundar sögur biskups. Vol. 1, Ævi Guðmundar biskups, Guðmundar saga A. Edited by Stefán Karlsson. Editiones Arnamagnæanæ Series B 6. Copenhagen: C. A. Reitzel, 1983. Stefán Karlsson. “The Localisation and Dating of Medieval Icelandic Manuscripts.” Saga-​Book 25 (1999): 138–​58. Strauch, Dieter. Mittelalterliches nordisches Recht bis ca. 1500. Ergänzungsbände zum Reallexikon der Germanischen Altertumskunde 97. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2011. Sverrir Jakobsson. Saga Breiðfirðinga I. Fólk og rými frá landnámi til plágunnar miklu. Reykjavik: Háskólaútgáfan, 2012. Sverrir Tómasson. “Trúarbókmenntir í lausu máli á síðmiðöld.” In Íslensk bókmenntasaga 2, edited by Böðvar Guðmundsson, Sverrir Tómasson, Torfi H. Tulinius, and Vésteinn Ólason, 249–​68. Reykjavik: Mál og menning, 1993. Torfi K. Stefánsson Hjaltalín. Eldur á Möðruvöllum: Saga Möðruvalla í Hörgárdal frá öndverðu til okkar tíma. 2 vols. Reykjavik: Flateyjarútgáfan, 2001. Vadum, Kristoffer. “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen ca. 1250–​1340.” PhD thesis, University of Oslo, 2015. Vadum, Kristoffer. “Canon Law and Politics in Grímr Hólmsteinsson’s Jóns saga baptista II.” In Intellectual Culture in Medieval Scandinavia, c. 1100–​1350, edited by Stefka Georgieva Eriksen, 175–​209. disput 28. Turnhout: Brepols, 2016.

150 Drechsler Walgenbach, Elizabeth. “The Canon Si Quis Suadente and Excommunication in Medieval Iceland.” Gripla 30 (2019): 155–​85. Wellendorf, Jonas. “Letters from Kings: Epistolary Communication in the Kings’ Sagas (until c. 1150).” In Moving Words in the Nordic Middle Ages: Tracing Literacies, Texts, and Verbal Communities, edited by Amy C. Mulligan and Else Mundal, 113–​41. Acta Scandinavica 8. Turnhout: Brepols, 2019. Widding, Ole. “Jónsbóks to ikke-​interpolerede håndskrifter. Et bidrag til den islandske lovbogs historie.” Scripta Islandica 18 (1967): 17–​19. Widding, Ole and Hans Bekker-​Nielsen, “Et brev fra Bernhard af Clairvaux i uddrag i AM 671, 4to,” Opuscula 2, 1 (1961): 59–​62. Wittekind, Susanne. “Ordnung und Verstoßin illuminierten Rechtshandschriften.” In Habitus. Norm und Transgression in Bild und Text. Festgabe für Lieselotte E. Saurma-​ Jeltsch, edited by Tobias Frese and Annette Hoffmann, 149–​71. Berlin: Akademie Verlag, 2011.

Chapter 7

am 657 a–​b 4° and the Mouvance of Medieval Texts: Roles and Functions in the Transmission of Texts in a Manuscript Culture Karl G. Johansson In order to understand the literary system and the use of texts in the Nordic Middle Ages, we need to take into account the continuous mouvance that is signifying a manuscript culture.1 As soon as this culture is scrutinized closely, it is obvious that the modern concept of a ‘work’ attributed to an ‘author,’ which, from then on, is assumed to be an entity is not always appropriate. The manuscript that is the primary object under investigation here is am 657 a–​b 4°, which contains a large number of what in traditional terminology is known as ‘works,’ here represented in re-​writings or text witnesses produced by four different scribes. The authorship of at least one of these texts –​the attribution of Michaels saga hǫfuðengils to the Benedictine brother Bergr Sokkason –​is generally accepted. This attribution, however, is still not unproblematic, in the sense that the concept of ‘authorship’ is in itself contested; the role of an author was obviously acknowledged as providing auctoritas to a text. The attribution, however, was not necessarily factual, nor is it proven to be a fixed text.2 Concerning the attribution of other texts such as Jóns þáttr Halldórssonar and Clári saga, however, the attributions to named authors have been a matter of scholarly contention. These attributions, however, are based on a more or less modern, romantic definition and are therefore not necessarily relevant to our understanding of the dissemination of literary texts in the period under scrutiny. Many scholars have assumed that Clári saga and at least some of the ævintýri found in am 657 a–​b 4° are translations 1 For the introduction of the concept of literary polysystems, see Itamar Even-​ Zohar, “Polysystem Studies.” The concept of mouvance is discussed by Paul Zumthor, Toward a Medieval Poetics. 2 The role of auctoritas has been treated in Alistair Minnis, Medieval Theory of Authorship. There is evidence in the version of Guðmundar saga góða attributed to Arngrímr Brandsson of a conscious use of the concept of actor, where Arngrímr refers to the composition of his own verses, which are well in line with the contemporary use on the continent (see e.g. Biskupa sögur, ed. Jón Sigurðsson et al., 2:77, 78, 86, 90; I thank Gunnar Harðarson for pointing out this interesting use of the concept to me).

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_009

152 Johansson and have, therefore, taken into account a translator when discussing the manuscript. The concept of a ‘translator’ in earlier scholarship has often been synonymous with the concept of ‘author’ when discussing the same texts, which can be confusing. It is, however, illustrative of how we perceive the medieval approach to translating texts as a kind of appropriation, that is, making the text your own; the medieval translator does not seem to have worked along the same lines as a modern translator.3 The large amount of short texts represented in the manuscript –​the so-​called ævintýri –​has also been discussed in relation to two ‘compilers,’ usually referred to as α and β respectively, who, more or less implicitly, are also referred to as the authors of these texts. This attribution of two clearly defined compilers will be challenged based on primarily codicological grounds. The manuscript am 657 a–​b 4° provides excellent material for questions concerning both the production of works and the re-​writing of texts. It contains a large number of ævintýri attributed mainly to the two aforementioned compilers, as well as a couple of larger texts represented by text witnesses written by four different scribes. am 657 a–​b 4° presents an example of a composite manuscript in which four hands are not necessarily active in the same milieu, even if this could be made plausible, while they at the same time are more or less contemporary to the possible writers, translators, and compilers that have been suggested in earlier scholarship. This means that there could have been a direct contact between writers, translators, compilers, and scribes in the same milieu and they could be in some way related to the one responsible for collecting the work of the four scribes in one manuscript –​a possible commissioner or patron. In this chapter, I present a step-​by-​step discussion of the aspects of text works represented by text witnesses in a manuscript (or text carrier) in order to illuminate further the possible roles and functions in the transmission of texts in a manuscript culture.4 3 For relevant studies of the role of translation in the Middle Ages see Copeland, Rhetoric, Hermeneutics, and Translation, and Toury, Descriptive Translation Studies. 4 In an article from 2006 the Swedish philologist Bo A. Wendt suggests a three-​partite concept of text, where the ‘text work’ is the abstract understanding of what should be regarded as the same text and is delimited by the reception at a certain point in time, rather than as a once and for all established work defined by an original author. In this article I will use the simplex ‘text’ referring to ‘text works.’ Every representation of this ‘text work’ that can be read from the material form, the ‘text carrier,’ is defined as a ‘text witness,’ where the ‘text carrier’ is defined as all material aspects of the text including the ink, while the ‘text witness’ is defined as the linguistic content that is read from the manuscript page; see Wendt, “En text är en text är en text?” In the following I will try to comply to this definition of text. For another recent discussion of the problem of text see Snijders, “Work, Version, Text and Scriptum.”

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The Intellectual Milieux of Text Works, Text Witnesses, and Manuscripts

In 1966, Ólafur Halldórsson published a pioneering study of a group of manuscripts that are thought to have been produced by scribes from the Augustinian abbey at Helgafell. Ólafur pointed out that it would be of great value for our understanding of the transmission of texts in medieval Iceland to have groups of manuscripts and scribes studied as a whole.5 Almost contemporary to Ólafur’s work, is the 1965 article by Lars Lönnroth, in which a similar approach is used to elucidate the literary production in Iceland in the Middle Ages.6 Since the publication of both studies, there has been an increased interest in intellectual milieux and the scriptoria in which the manuscripts were produced, which has resulted in new insights into the literate world of the Norse Middle Ages.7 The Benedictine order seems to have dominated the literate culture in the northern quarter of Iceland. Already in the 12th and early 13th century, we know of lively literate activity in the two monasteries at Þingeyrar and Munka-​Þverá, with known texts in Latin and Norse attributed to Nikulás Bergsson, Oddr Snorrason, Gunnlaugr Leifsson and Karl Jónsson.8 In the 14th century there are further attributions to a number of Benedictine brothers as writers and translators, such as Bergr Sokkason, Arngrímr Brandsson and Árni Lárentíusson.9 Other northern sites developed literate activities around the same time period, such as the cathedral of Hólar and the Augustinian canonry at Möðruvellir.10 5 6 7

8

9

10

Ólafur Halldórsson, Helgafellsbækur fornar. Lönnroth, “Tesen om de två kulturerna.” For more recent studies see e.g. Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus; “A Scriptorium in Northern Iceland” and “Texter i rörelse”; Ashman Rowe, The Development of Flateyjarbók; Guðbjörg Kristjánsdóttir, “Handritalýsingar í benediktínaklaustrinu á Þingeyrum”; Guðvarður Már Gunnlaugsson, “Voru scriptoria í íslenskum klaustrum?” For a critical comment on Lönnroth’s approach see Stefán Karlsson, “Ritun Reykjarfjarðarbókar.” See also Lönnroth’s reply, “Sponsors, Writers and Readers.” See Johansson, “Texter i rörelse,” for a discussion of the early literary activity of the Benedictines. Sverrir Tómasson has, in a number of works, treated what he calls the Northern Benedictine School (Norðlenski Benediktínaskólinn). See e.g. Sverrir Tómasson, “Íslenskar Nikulás sögur/​Icelandic Lives of St Nicholas,” 11–​41; 147–​76 and “Helgisagnaritun á 14. öld –​norðlenski Benediktínaskólinn.” For a discussion of the scholarship concerning these milieux, see Johansson, “Texter i rörelse.” For a recent treatment of the scribes and illuminators associated with the milieu at Þingeyrar, see Guðbjörg Kristjánsdóttir, “Handritalýsingar í benediktínaklaustrinu á Þingeyrum.” See also Gunnar Harðarson in this volume. For a recent treatment of the manuscripts related to Möðruvellir, see Guðvarður Már Gunnlaugsson “Voru scriptoria í íslenskum klaustrum?”

154 Johansson The Benedictine convent at Reynistaðir most likely had a scriptorium, but little is known of its activities.11 There is also evidence of secular scribes in the 14th century, for example at the farm Möðruvellir fram in Eyjafjörður.12 It can therefore be stated without any doubt that the northern intellectual milieux of the monasteries, the cathedral of Hólar and some of the larger farms provided a rich ground for literary production and re-​writing of texts. This is further testified in the large amount of manuscripts that was produced in the scriptoria of monasteries in the north.13 Within these early milieux, a number of Norse versions of Latin texts were produced, such as the many Latin saints’ lives now gathered under the title Heilagra manna sögur.14 These northern literary centers also took part in the Latin book culture in the form of the chronicles of the Norwegian king Óláfr Tryggvason and the subsequent Norse chronicles, such as Sverris saga, which was at least partly written by Karl Jónsson.15 Already in the mid-​12th century, the leiðarvísir –​a guide for pilgrims allegedly composed by the above-​ mentioned Nikulás Bergsson –​was part of the intellectual achievements.16 The 11

12 13

14

15 16

There has been some scholarly discussion as to whether there was a scriptorium at the Benendictine convent at Reynistaðir in Skagafjörður and at the farm Akrar in the second half of the 14th century; see Svanhildur Óskarsdóttir, “Universal history in fourteenth-​ century Iceland,” 53–​ 57; 233–​ 38 and “Opbyggelige historier fra Reynistaður,” with references. See e.g. Sanders, Tales of Knights, for a thorough discussion of the manuscripts suggested to have been produced in this lay milieu in the 15th century. For a different opinion see Jón Viðar Sigurðsson, “The Education of Sturla Þórðarson,” esp. 24–​25. Jón Viðar argues in line with the tradition that the monasteries were poor and played a minor role in the literate activities and in teaching. This must, however, be contradicted by the here-​mentioned abundancy of works and the known literary activity, as well as the rich scriptorial activity at e.g. Þingeyrar and Munka-​Þverá. For recent discussions of these questions see Gottskálk Jensson, “Íslenskar klausturreglur og libertas ecclesie á ofanverðri 12. öld,” and Steinunn Kristjánsdóttir, Leitin að klaustrunum. See also Johansson, “The Learned Sturlungar and the Emergence of Icelandic Literate Culture,” on the relation between various institutions in 13th-​century Iceland. To a large extent, the early transfer of Latin vitae into Norse seems to have been the work of Benedictines of the North and in the Hólar diocese, see e.g. Margaret Cormack, The Saints in Iceland, 302–​25, esp. 304. These new works were subsequently part of the literary system of 13th-​century Icelandic literature and related to the emerging saga literature. For an interesting discussion of these relations see Siân Grønlie, The Saint and the Saga Hero. The Latin chronicles and their role in the emerging tradition of vernacular chronicles has been the object of much study. For an overview, see Ekrem, Mortensen & Skovgaard-​ Petersen, Olavslegenden og den latinske historieskrivning. Leiðarvísir and its role in northern literate culture is treated by Eriksen in “Leiðarvísir, an Old Norse itinerary to Jerusalem” (forthcoming) and Johansson, “Om nordiskt och lärt hos de tidiga benediktinerna på Island.”

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oral traditions of myths and legends, as well as the form of traditional poetry, were also of interest to these milieux, as reflected in texts such as the translation of Prophetia Merlini by Geoffrey of Monmouth into the fornyrðislag form of Merlínusspá, presumably by the Benedictine brother Gunnlaugr Leifsson.17 The monastic milieux seem to have been less productive in the mid-​13th century, but by 1300 the activity is again high with new texts in various genres, such as Michaels saga hǫfuðengils, attributed to Bergr Sokkason, or the poetry of Arngrímr Brandsson.18 The 14th century witnesses an increase of activity in the reproduction of various kinds of texts found in a large amount of preserved manuscripts. It has also been argued that this increase in production was due to the demand of the Norwegian market for manuscripts at least from the second part of the 13th century and during the 14th century.19 It is plausible to think that the named writers were also part of this reproductive activity in the roles of scribes, but the number of scribes related to these milieux in the 14th century must definitely be assessed as much larger.20 While it is possible to establish knowledge about writers and translators such as Bergr Sokkason and Arngrímr Brandsson and about the anonymous compilers and scribes represented in the extant manuscripts, it is not as simple to further our insights into the patronage, the re-​writings or the uses of these texts. The explicit mentions we have of patronage are limited to a few examples.21 The

17 18

19 20

21

For the transfer of Geoffrey’s prose about Merlin into poetic form and its implications, see e.g. Johansson, “Översättning och originalspråkstext,” with further references. The interest in indigenous poetry and its relation to the European rhetoric and poetics is reflected in e.g. the compilation found in Codex Wormianus (am 242 fol), see e.g. Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus and Mikael Males, “Wormianusredaktören.” It is also interesting to note the on-​going debate on poetics in the vernacular in these milieux, see e.g. Johansson, “1300-​talets lärda kultur.” See Stefán Karlsson, “Om norvagismer i islandske håndskrifter.” In recent years there have been a number of studies discussing the manuscript production in the northern part of Iceland and our knowledge about the important role of monasteries, the church and even the more secular milieux has grown; see e.g. the earlier studies by Jakob Benediktsson, introduction to “Catilina” and “Jugurtha”, 7–​24, and Karl G. Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus and more recent contributions by Liepe, Studies in Icelandic Fourteenth Century Book Painting, Guðbjörg Kristjánsdóttir, “Handritalýsingar í benediktínaklaustrinu á Þingeyrum” and Guðvarður Már Gunnlaugsson “Voru scriptoria í íslenskum klaustrum?” There is e.g. mention of the patron Jón Hákonarson in Flateyjarbók from the later 14th century; see e.g. Ashman Rowe, The Development of Flateyjarbók. For a critical view on the question of patronage of Flateyjarbók, see Kolbrún Haraldsdóttir, “Für welchen Empfänger wurde die Flateyjarbók ursprünglich konzipiert?” and “Die Flateyjarbók und der Anfang ihrer Óláfs saga helga.”

156 Johansson reception of texts must therefore primarily be deduced from the composition of collections as they appear in the manuscript material; the manuscript represents the reception of the scribe and possibly of a patron, as well as the expectations they both had for the intended audience.22 Here could be mentioned as an example the numerous studies of the composite manuscript Hauksbók.23 It is, therefore, obvious that we need to further our study of individual manuscripts, groups of manuscripts that include the work of many scribes from the same milieu. Studies of how scribes related to other roles of these intellectual milieux, as e.g. those who translated and wrote new texts, as well as those who compiled and collected texts and those who formed the material frames of the texts, the extant manuscripts, would be needed in order to further our understanding of medieval manuscript culture in general. The manuscript under scrutiny in the following discussion contains reflections of most of the roles that have been mentioned here. There are texts attributed to known writers and translators, either explicitly in the extant material or by scholars in our own times, texts of various status that have been transmitted in the manuscript and mention of at least two compilers in relation to the ævintýri.24 Finally, the manuscript itself displays evidence of the work of four scribes; however, it is unclear whether they had been all working as a team or if the manuscript is a later collection of gatherings produced at various points in time.

22

23

24

The manuscript as evidence of the reception and the scribe’s “reading” as the closest we get to the reception of texts has been discussed in relation to Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks in Hauksbók; see Johansson, “Delen och helheten i medeltidens handskriftskultur.” The collection of texts in this manuscript has often been regarded as the product of the law-​speaker Haukr Erlendsson; see e.g. in recent works by Sverrir Jakobsson, Við og veröldin and “Hauksbók and the Construction of an Icelandic World View”; Ashman Rowe, “Literary, Codicological, and Political Perspectives on Hauksbók” and “Ragnars saga loðbrókar, Ragnarssona þáttr, and the Political World of Haukr Erlendsson.” I have in a number of articles argued for some caution when the whole collection is attributed to Haukr. Rather, the collection seems to have been made at a later stage, which indicates that only parts of the extant manuscript can be regarded as representative of Haukr’s reception. As a whole, obviously, the manuscript represents an intention but perhaps at a much later stage of its history; see e.g. Johansson, “The Hauksbók. An Example of Medieval Modes of Collecting and Compilation” and “Compilations, collections and composite manuscripts. Some notes on the manuscript Hauksbók.” See also Gunnar Harðarson, “Hauksbók og alfræðirit miðalda.” Gering, “Vorrede,” Islendzk Æventyri, 1: vii–​xxxviii and 1: v–​lxxvi.

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Authors, Translators and Compilers

In this first section I will discuss the principal stages of production and re-​ production of texts, and at the same time, provide a preliminary sketch of the literate milieu that relates to the manuscript am 657 a–​b 4°, the text witnesses found in the manuscript, and the possible origin of some of the text works they represent. In Table 7.1, I have listed the texts represented in the manuscript in relation to scribe, fol., and quire. This table will hopefully be a useful reference point in the following discussions. The first stage of production, and obviously the most obscure, despite the fact that in earlier philology it had been at the center of attention, concerns the text work and its origin and whether we can establish with any certainty an author or translator of this original. The first text in 657 a–​b 4° is Michaels saga hǫfuðengils, which has been attributed to Bergr Sokkason based on an explicit mention of Bergr in one of the text witnesses. At the end of the saga, the author allegedly refers to himself with the words “Biðr ek litillatliga, er þessa ræðu samsetti, at þeir guðhræddir menn, er þenna bækling hafa með hǫndum, minnizst sꜳlu broður Sokka sonar ꜳ hatiðardegi Michaelis meðr nokkurri bæn eða olmusu.”25 This reference seems to have been generally accepted by the scholars who have studied the text as a genuine reference to Bergr.26 It is interesting to observe, however, that the reference to Bergr in this instance is made in the first person and that it actually is implied that the author himself asks the reader to pray for him. But Bergr would hardly have referred to himself as bróðir Sokkason; either he would have written bróðir Bergr or his full name Bergr Sokkason. A possible explanation could be that a later scribe has read bróðir for Bergr without reflecting over the strange form he produced.27 In a younger text witness to the saga found in the manuscript am 657 c 4° (dated to the late 14th century) the scribe has left out the name and instead has written sálu minnar ‘my soul.’28 Unger states in his description of the manuscript 25

26 27 28

Heilagra manna sögur, ed. Unger, 713. “I, who translated this text, humbly ask those God-​ fearing men who use this booklet to remember the soul of brother Sokkason on the day of Michael with some prayers or alms” (my translation). It is interesting that this attribution talks of the work as bæklingr ‘booklet,’ something that could indicate that the work was originally written separately. See e.g Hallberg, Stilsignalement, 128; Stefán Karlsson, “Icelandic Lives of Thomas á Becket,” esp. 237. I wish to thank Gunnar Harðarson for pointing out the need to explain this strange formulation of the attribution and the suggestion that it could be based on a mistake made by a later scribe. Heilagra manna sögur, ed. Unger, 713.

158 Johansson am 657 a–​b 4° that “Det fuldstændige Haandskrift af Sagaen 657 a qv. og det paa foregaaende Side omtalte am 657 c qv. hvor kun dens Slutning er bevaret, kunne næppe være meget yngre end Forfatterens Dødsaar.”29 It could be argued that the difference between the wording in these two manuscripts depends on whether or not am 657 a–​b 4° was copied in close connection to Bergr, while the other manuscript was copied sometime later or in an environment where the name of Bergr Sokkason was not important in order to render authority to the text. The attribution in the earlier manuscript, whether trusted or not, indicates that the contemporary scribe associated the saga with Bergr. Peter Hallberg attributes another text found in am 657 a–​b 4° to Bergr Sokkason: the so-​called Drauma-​Jóns saga.30 This text, however, is an incomplete version.31 The attribution to Bergr is not sustained in any contemporary sources but is based on Hallberg’s study of stylistic features in texts explicitly attributed to Bergr Sokkason. A much-​ debated text included in this large manuscript is Jóns þáttr Halldórssonar, a work that describes the bishop of Skálholt as a learned man who has studied in Paris and Bologna and who is interested in poetics and rhetoric. The text has been attributed to Arngrímr Brandsson by Stefán Karlsson.32 A final larger text found represented in the manuscript is Clári saga, the attribution of which has been a matter of debate. Scholars have suggested Bishop Jón Halldórsson, Bergr Sokkason and Arngrímr Brandsson as possible authors or translators, despite the explicit reference to the bishop in one of the text witnesses. The text is extant in two text witnesses in parchment manuscripts: am 657 a–​b 4° and the rather younger Holm perg. 6 4°, which includes an attribution of the saga to Jón Halldórsson. The manuscript contains, besides the abovementioned witnesses to texts, a large collection of ævintýri. In his edition of ævintýri (based on Latin exempla),

29

Unger, introduction to Heilagra manna sögur, xv. “The complete manuscript of the saga, am 657 a 4°, and the manuscript mentioned on the previous page, am 657 c 4°, where only its ending is preserved, could hardly be much older than the year of the death of the author” (my translation). It should be mentioned again, however, that the later manuscript today is generally dated to the end of the 14th century. 30 Hallberg, Stilsignalement, 187–​88. 31 Kålund, Katalog, ii: 69. 32 Stefán Karlsson, “Icelandic Lives of Thomas á Becket.” See Gunnar Harðarson’s chapter in this volume for a thorough discussion of Arngrímr and his biography. For a critical presentation of the discussion between Peter Hallberg and Stefán Karlsson, see Johansson, “Bergr Sokkason och Arngrímur Brandsson –​översättare och författare i samma miljö,” with further references. It should be mentioned that Hallberg made a final contribution to the debate in 1994: “Bergr Sokkason and religious Icelandic literature.”

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Hugo Gering divided the texts into groups that he then attributed to different anonymous compilers. A large number of the texts included in am 657 a–​b 4° were attributed to the compilers α and β based on stylistic criteria and their handling of the Latin sources.33 I return to the compilers in my treatment of ævintýri below. Already here it could be stated, however, that codicological analysis of the manuscript indicates that the attribution to two compilers may not be sustained. From this short introduction of the many texts found in am 657 a–​b 4° we can sum up that we have two explicit attributions to contemporary writers –​ Bergr Sokkason for Michaels saga hǫfuðengils and Jón Halldórsson for Clári saga –​but both of these attributions are found in other versions than the ones extant in am 657 a–​b 4°. Both Hallberg and Stefán Karlsson attribute other texts to Bergr Sokkason: Drauma-​Jóns saga and Jóns þáttr Halldórssonar, respectively. Thus, the two anonymous compilers, α and β, as suggested by Gering and accepted by later scholarship, need to be further discussed in relation to the intellectual milieux of northern Iceland in the first half of the 14th century. We could perhaps conclude that these texts have been of some relevance to the four scribes who produced the text witnesses or at least for one or more commissionaires who ordered the work to be done. We may also conclude that the one who formed the unit of the extant manuscript had a purpose for making this collection. It is not clear if the four scribes collaborated, and therefore it is not easy to conclude if there would have been one or more expectations of the final result. Should am 657 a–​b 4° most likely be considered a contemporary or later collection of work made independently by a number of scribes? 3

The Manuscript: A Compilation or a Composite Collection?

Often the border between a compilation and a collection of texts in the medieval manuscript is blurred; it is, for example, uncertain whether Hauksbók is a compilation or a collection containing a number of earlier compilations.34 Taking into account the extant material attributed to the northern milieux, perhaps the manuscript am 227 fol. containing a version of Stjórn could be considered a compilation of biblical history. But then the question arises whether the other versions named Stjórn, such as the one found in am 226 fol.,

33 34

Gering, “Vorrede,” 2:xxv–​xxviii; see also Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 24. See e.g. Johansson, “The Hauksbók.”

160 Johansson should be regarded as compilations in their own right as well –​am 226 fol. is expanded with a lot of extra material –​or as just re-​writings of the same ‘work’ (compilation).35 Or should the title Stjórn be used for a compilation re-​written in various manuscripts and containing only the material found in the editions of Unger (1862) and Astås (2010)?36 In this case, am 227 fol. contains a re-​writing of the compilation while am 226 fol. is rather a collection of texts and not a compilation. The manuscript at the center of attention in this chapter, am 657 a–​b 4°, should be considered a collection of texts rather than a compilation. It does not represent a conscious forging of a new, consistent text work, but rather seems to represent the on-​going re-​writing of texts, most likely over a stretch of time and without a definite plan for the unity of the content. But the manuscript could certainly also be considered a combination of a number of collections –​what we may call a composite manuscript. This view would provide insights into the strategies of a literate milieu other than those provided by compilations and collections as it reflects the on-​going work of gathering relevant texts. Parts of am 657 a–​b 4°, such as Clári saga, were written by an efficient and, judging from the preserved manuscripts from his hand, highly productive scribe. The scribe, and the other manuscripts he has produced, has generally been discussed in earlier scholarship in connection to the monastery in Þingeyrar in Húnavatnssýsla, where two of the known writers/​translators of the same period (c.1325–​75), Bergr Sokkason and Arngrímr Brandsson, had their residence. Both men have been mentioned in connection to a number of works that are found in contemporary manuscripts associated with Þingeyrar and a group of at least seven scribes.37 It is therefore important to further elucidate the relations between the known writers/​translators and the group of scribes that have been established in connection to the monastery of Þingeyrar. In this chapter, I accept the earlier suggestions that am 657 a–​b 4° was produced at this monastery during the period when Bergr Sokkason and Arngrímr Brandsson had their residence in the northern Benedictine houses of Þingeyrar and Munka-​Þverá. My contention is, that if we can establish a contemporary connection between the texts and 35 36 37

For a recent discussion of the various text witnesses, see Kleivane, “There is more to Stjórn than Biblical Translation.” Stjórn, ed. Unger; Stjórn, ed. Astås. See e.g. Jakob Benediktsson, introduction to “Catilina” and “Jugurtha”; Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus; “A Scriptorium in Northern Iceland” and “Texter i rörelse”; Guðbjörg Kristjánsdóttir, “Handritalýsingar”.

am 657 a–b 4° and the Mouvance of Medieval Texts161 table 7.1 Texts related to hands, folios, and quires. It should be mentioned that the order between scribes cannot be stated for certain, except for hands iii and iv. The final folios 91 to 100 are added and have earlier belonged to am 764 b 4°

Text

Hand Fols.

Michaels saga hǫfuðengils Michaels saga hǫfuðengils, continued

i i

Michaels saga hǫfuðengils, continued Af bróður einum einsetu manni Æv5: Af Constantino kóngi Æv18: Af hinum elga Thoma Jartegnir Maríu drótningar

i ii

Æv96: Frá Heinreki keisara Æv95: Af Lanfranco Æv16: Af Vilhjálmi bastarði ok sonum hans Æv17: Frá ferðum Roðbertz ok hans manna Æv101: Af manni einum er leiddiz til helvítis ok himinríkis Æv98: Frá dýri því er heitir Bemoth Æv80: Af gimsteinum af Indialandi Æv86: Af konu einni kviksettri Æv81: Af meistara Pero ok hans leikum Æv79: Af kóngssyni ok kóngsdóttur Æv100: Af einsetumanni ok engli Æv100: Af einsetumanni ok engli, continued Æv21: Af einni ekkju ok syni hennar Æv42: Af einum grefa Æv20: Af einni frú ok hennar syni Æv6: Af Constantino kongi Æv14: Af Silvestro páfa Æv12: Af Formoso Æv13: Af hinum helga Dunstano Æv94: Af Remigio erkibiskupi ÆvÓd: Einn atburður og leiðsla um ódáinsakur Æv88: Af presti ok klukkara

iii

iv

iv

Quire

1–​7 8–​15 16–​22 16–​17v5 17v6–​18r 18r–​18v 18v–​19r 19r–​22v 23–​28 23r–​23v 23v–​25v 26r–​26v 26v–​28v 28v

1 2 3

29–​34 29r 29r–​29v 29v–​30v 30v–​33r 33r–​34v 34v–​ 35–​40 –​35r 35r–​35v 35v–​36v 36v–​37r 37r–​37v 37v–​38r 38r–​39r 39r–​39v 39v 40r 40r–​40v

5

4

6

162 Johansson table 7.1 Texts related to hands, folios, and quires (cont.)

Text Æv43: Af einum munk Æv44: Af tveimr munkum Æv99: Af tveimr bræðrum Æv102: Fragment Æv45: Af Marinu munk Æv46: Af dauða húsfreyju ok bónda Æv47: Af skólaklerk Æv87: Af einum meistara Æv87: Af einum meistara, continued Æv1: Af meistara Secundo ok hans móður Æv2: Af riddara Romano Æv2: Af riddara Romano, continued Æv48: Af sýslomanni ok fjánda Æv3: Af Marcellino páfa Æv4: Af frú Aglais Æv9: Af Sindulfo ok hans frú Drauma-​Jóns saga Drauma-​Jóns saga, continued Hákonar þáttr Hárekssonar Æv24: Af biskupi ok púka Æv25: Af biskupi ok flugu Æv85: Af riddara ok álfkonu Æv83: Af rómverska dáranum Æv28: Af brytja ok bónda Æv82: Af þrimr kumpánum Æv78: Af dauða ok kóngssyni

Hand Fols. iv

iv

iv

iv iv

iv

41–​44 41r–​41v 41v–​42r 42r–​42v 43r 43r–​43v 43v–​44v 44v 44v–​ 45–​52 –​49r 49r–​51r 51r–​ 53–​59 –​53r 53r–​55v 55v–​56v 56v–​57v 57v–​58v 58v–​ 60–​64 –​62v 63r–​64v 65–​68 65r–​66v 66v 67r–​68v 69–​74 69r 69r–​71v 71v–​73r 74

Quire 7

8

9

10 11

12

163

am 657 a–b 4° and the Mouvance of Medieval Texts table 7.1 Texts related to hands, folios, and quires (cont.)

Text Æv90: Af þrimr þjófum í Danmörk Æv91: Af hálfum vin capitulum Æv92: Hér segir af öllum vin Æv93: Frá danska manni ok kerlingu Æv26: Frá því er púkinn gjörðiz ábóti Æv27: Af ábóta er kvalðiz í brunni Æv10: Frá þeim manni er drap prestana .ii. í kirkjunni ok fylgdi púkanum Æv11: Frá Karlamagnúsi Clári saga ÆvForm: Formáli A (for Disciplina clericalis) Fragments of: Mar657: A legend of Mary The Abbot and his Foster-​Father ÆvSall: Karlamagnús saga ÆvRob: Af presti einum ÆvFurs: Af Furseus ÆvFocas: Af keisara Mauricius ok Focas riddara ÆvSall: Karlamagnús saga ÆvTib: Af Keisara Tibercius Æv15: Af Gregorio páfa Æv23: Jóns þáttr Halldórssonar Æv22: Af Celestino ok Bonifacio páfum

Hand Fols.

Quire

iii

75–​82 75r–​77r 77r 77r–​78v 78v–​79v 79v–​80r 80r–​80v 80v–​82r 82r–​82v

13

iii

83–​90 14 83r–​90v 90v 91–​97 91v 92r–​92 93r–​93v 94r–​94v 95r-​v; 91r-​v 96v, 94r 97r–​97v 97v; 96r-​v 98–​100 98r 98v-​100v 100 v

iii

iv

the actual preservation of them in the manuscript tradition, it will provide new insights into the dissemination of texts and the interplay between various roles in the writing and re-​writing of texts in this milieu. My reasoning also has implications for the way we look at texts more generally from the Middle Ages. I will return to this below, when I discuss the manuscript am 657 a–​b 4°, its texts, and its scribes more thoroughly. There are some connections between the known manuscripts in the large group that I have referred to above and the authors discussed by Hallberg and Stefán Karlsson, on which I wish to elucidate further.

164 Johansson Kålund dates am 657 a–​b 4° to the second half of the 14th century.38 Gering, on the other hand, suggests the first half of the 14th century.39 The provenance of the manuscript has been discussed by several scholars. There are, however, no conclusive indications as to where it was produced. Árni Magnússon got the main part of the manuscript from Páll Vídalín, who had received it from Halldóra Erlendsdóttir in Bólstaðarhlíð in Húnavatnssýsla in northern Iceland. Some of the leaves, however, had come to Árni from “ymsum stỏdum,” among them a couple from a student at the cathedral school at Hólar.40 As mentioned above, the manuscript includes a version of Michaels saga, which may indicate that it had been in Bólstaðarhlíð since the Middle Ages. The church in Bólstaðarhlíð was dedicated to Michael, which leads Árni Magnússon to state: “Mun fyrrum hafa vered kirkiubok þar: þvi þar er Michaels kirkia.”41 Alfred Jakobsen argues that the manuscript originated at the church in Skálholt based upon the suggested authorship of Clári saga and some of the ævintýri. He also argues that the manuscript am 227 fol., which was written in part by one of the scribes in am 657 a–​b 4° (hand iv), was found at Skálholt, which indicates that the whole group of manuscripts was produced in this place and by scribes working in the episcopal scriptorium.42 Jakob Benediktsson does not accept this argument. He notes that the connection with Jón Halldórsson is in no way confirmed and that it cannot support a provenance. While am 227 fol. was indeed discovered at Skálholt, Jakob Benediktsson claimed that the devastating fires that destroyed the church several times –​the last one occuring in 1630 prior to Árni finding the manuscript –​hindered any argument of provenance there. There were therefore indications that the manuscript had come to Skálholt after this year.43 Jakob Benediktsson also contends that many of the manuscripts attributed to the same scribe indicate that it originated in the north of Iceland.44 In a later article, however, Jakob Benediktsson found reason to revise some of his earlier contentions. He admitted that there is evidence that the manuscript

38 Kålund, Katalog, 2:68–​69. 39 Gering, “Vorrede,” 1:xi. 40 Kålund, Katalog, 2:70; see also Jakob Benediktsson, introduction, 11. 41 Kålund, Arne Magnussons i AM. 435 A–​B, 4to indeholdte håndskriftfortegnelser, 13. “Might earlier have been a church-​book there as it is a Michael’s church” (my translation). This suggestion is, however, not strongly supported and should probably not be given too much weight. 42 Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 53–​54. 43 Jakob Benediktsson, introduction, 11. 44 Jakob Benediktsson, introduction, 11–​12.

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am 227 fol. had been in Skálholt both in 1588 and possibly even as early as 1548.45 This supports the claim that the manuscript was at Skálholt after the reformation and may have even survived the devastating fires. It does not, however, necessarily provide information about the medieval provenance of the manuscript. The manuscript am 657 a–​b 4° today consists of 100 leaves after Kålund attached to it ten leaves from the manuscript am 764 b 4°.46 These ten leaves are placed at the end of the manuscript and paginated 91–​100. Kålund distinguished four hands in the manuscript,47 something that does not seem to have been challenged by later research. The main scribe is considered to be identical to the one who wrote am 242 fol.48 The manuscript and its scribes were first treated by Gering in his edition of ævintýri.49 Jakobsen deals with the paleography and orthography of the scribe whom I wish to focus on here and who has been assigned the number iv in Table 7.1.50 The composition of the gatherings is not possible to state for certain today. Árni Magnússon collected the parts from different places, and even during the last century new leaves have been added to the codex. The four hands that can be distinguished can therefore not be definitely connected to the same scriptorium.51 The only certain connection is between the scribes i and ii, who have written text within the same gathering. The impression of the manuscript’s composition, however, makes it plausible to think that the codex was originally produced as a unit consisting of a collection of exempla and written in the same environment. 4

Text Works in Transmission: Re-​Writing the Texts and Forming Collections

The focus on text witnesses and the dissemination of texts rather than on works moves the attention away from the literary ‘work’ and the ‘author’ or ‘translator’ to the scribe and the recipients of his re-​writing. For the literate 45 Jakob Benediktsson, “Some observations on Stjórn and the manuscript AM 227 fol.,” 11–​12. 46 Kålund, Katalog, 2: 69. 47 Kålund, Katalog, 2: 68–​69. 48 Jakob Benediktsson, introduction; Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus. 49 Gering, “Vorrede,” 1: x–​xxv. 50 Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 43–​104; see also Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus and “A Scriptorium in Northern Iceland.” 51 See however Guðbjörg Kristjánsdóttir, “Handritalýsingar” for a different view.

166 Johansson milieux of the north there is excellent material for the study of text witnesses re-​written in manuscripts of the various kinds discussed above. Here we find collections made by one or more scribes, presenting text witnesses of various works apparently merged to form coherent units, compilations, as well as more composite manuscripts that may contain ordered collections rather than new compilations. In the following, I focus on Clári saga and its text witness in am 657 a–​b 4° to exemplify some methodological aspects of the study of a composite manuscript. Clári saga is by most scholars considered to be a translation from the first part of the 14th century, most likely of a Latin source. No conclusive evidence, however, has ever been presented for a Latin source text, and it has also been suggested that the saga was composed from oral tradition. This issue was closely scrutinized in Alfred Jakobsen’s thesis on Clári saga.52 Jakobsen comes to the conclusion that the text ought to be considered a translation from Latin.53 In a recent analysis, however, Shaun Hughes comes to the conclusion that the saga is an indigenous Icelandic composition from the second quarter of the 14th century.54 How the saga made its way to Iceland and whether the translation was of Norwegian or Icelandic origin was fiercely debated in earlier research.55 In one of the two text witnesses to the saga, the name of Jón Halldórsson, bishop of Skálholt 1323–​39, is mentioned as the man responsible for the translation. The prologue states: Þar byrjum vér upp þessa frásǫgn, sem sagði virðuligr herra Jón Halldórsson, ágætrar áminningar, –​en hann fann hana skrifaða með látínu í Frannz í þat form, er þeir kalla ‘rithmos’ en vér kǫllum hendingum, –​ok byrjar svá.56

52 Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 31–​32. 53 Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 39. 54 The place of Clári saga in the Icelandic literary system of the late 14th and early 15th century is further discussed by Hughes, “Klári saga as an Indigenous Romance”; see also Kalinke, “Clári saga. A Case of Low German Infiltration.” For further discussions of this topic, see Védís Ragnheiðardóttir in ­chapter 5 of this volume. 55 See e.g. Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga; Jakob Benediktsson, introduction to “Catilina” and “Jugurtha”. 56 Clári saga, ed. Cederschiöld, 1. “We start this our story as it was told by the honorable lord Jón Halldórsson, in precious memory –​and he found it written in Latin in France in the form that they call ‘rithmos’ and we call rhymed –​and it starts like this” (my translation).

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This leads the first editor of the saga, Gering, to give an account of the life of Jón Halldórsson as a background to the text.57 There are several reasons, however, not to take this attribution at face value. Jakobsen treats the Norwegianisms found in the saga thoroughly and uses them to argue for a Norwegian origin for the translation.58 But an important reason for Jakobsen’s point of view is, of course, the mentioning of Jón Halldórsson in the prologue59 which easily leads to a circular reasoning. And Jakobsen’s conclusion has not been left unchallenged. Peter Hallberg noted that many linguistic features in the text of Clári saga were also common in the so-​called ævintýri, or exempla, that accompany it in am 657 a–​b 4° and which have been attributed to the unknown writer or translator (or compiler) α. Hallberg argued that α was identical to the writer and translator Bergr Sokkason.60 There are two extant parchment manuscripts from the Middle Ages containing text witnesses of the saga. Further, there are eight paper manuscripts from later centuries that contain text witnesses of the saga; all of them, however, are related to the two extant parchment manuscripts61 and are therefore of no consequence for the present discussion. The parchment manuscripts are Holm perg. 6 4° and am 657 a–​b 4°. Holm perg. 6 4° is dated to c.1400 while am 657 a–​b 4° is dated to c.1350. It can be stated with some certainty that Clári saga, as it is extant in the two manuscripts, is copied from two exemplars, which means that the younger one was not copied from am 657 a–​b 4° or from its exemplar.62 The previous studies on the authorship of Clári saga will be discussed here in relation to the scribe that produced the witness to the work in am 657 a–​b 4°. The features that Alfred Jakobsen puts forward in his thesis on the saga as Norwegian should rather be related to the scribe responsible of producing the manuscript am 242 fol.; that is, related rather to the scribe of both this manuscript and the witness to Clári saga than to an author. And as Jakobsen claimed that the author of Clári saga displayed Norwegian traits, it is interesting to note that these traits also appear in am 242 fol., which has never been claimed to be Norwegian. This would seem to imply that the ‘Norwegian’ features of Clári saga rather should be seen as belonging to the milieu in which Bergr Sokkason,

57 Gering, “Vorrede,” 2: v–​xxii. 58 Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 43–​104. 59 Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 10. 60 Hallberg, Stilsignalement, 183–​86. 61 Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 11–​12. 62 See e.g. Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 12–​13.

168 Johansson Arngrímr Brandsson and the anonymous scribes of am 657 a–​b 4° and of a number of other manuscripts worked. Alfred Jakobsen argues from previous research that there is a lot of linguistic evidence in the Clári saga text that indicates a Norwegian rather than Icelandic translation.63 Among the evidence initially put forward by Jakobsen are word-​ forms that are considered Norwegian rather than Icelandic, as well as single words or phrases.64 Jakobsen admits, however, that this evidence is far too sparse to make a Norwegian provenance for the saga plausible. He therefore goes on to present a thorough investigation into the language of the saga.65 In this context, Jakobsen discusses the group of manuscripts attributed to the scribe that had copied Clári saga in am 657 a–​b 4° and the relation between the scribe and the authorship.66 He also treats the possibility that the scribe had been to Norway but dismisses this thought on the grounds that there are errors in the rendering of Norwegian place-​names in the fragment of Egils saga (am 162 A fol. β) that is attributed to the scribe.67 Jakobsen concludes, however, that we have to expect some Norwegian influences on the language of the scribe.68 He demonstrates how most of the Norwegianisms in Clári saga can be explained as belonging to scribal orthography; that is, they belong to the transition of the text from exemplar to copy. The scribe that produced the text witness to the saga in am 657 a–​b 4° is characterized as “norvagiserende.”69 Still, Jakobsen concludes by stating that the saga was translated by a Norwegian, and that he could quite possibly be identified as the bishop of Skálholt, Jón Halldórsson.70 Stefán Karlsson discusses the Norwegianisms in Icelandic manuscripts from a methodological perspective in two successive articles.71 He wishes to use the term norvagisme in the sense that “en norvagisme er et udtryk eller en skrivemåde, der er bedre kendt i norsk end i samtidige islandske håndskrifter.”72 He

63 Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga, 43. 64 Studier i Clarus saga, 43. 65 Studier i Clarus saga, 43–​104. 66 Studier i Clarus saga, 44–​50. 67 Studier i Clarus saga, 54. 68 Studier i Clarus saga, 54–​55. 69 Studier i Clarus saga, 114. 70 Studier i Clarus saga, 116. 71 Stefán Karlsson, “Om norvagismer i islandske håndskrifter”; “Islandsk bokeksport til Norge i middelalderen.” 72 Stefán Karlsson, “Om norvagismer i islandske håndskrifter,” 88. “A Norwegianism is an expression or a written form that is better known in Norwegian than in contemporary Icelandic manuscripts” (my translation).

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concentrates on the kind of Norwegianisms that can be found on the level of the scribes in the preserved manuscripts and concludes that these are –​especially in the 14th century –​mainly explained as depending on the dominance from Norway on the copying of texts.73 In his second study, Stefán Karlsson treats the Icelandic export of manuscripts to Norway in the Middle Ages and the influence of this trade on the language and script in the manuscripts. He demonstrates that a large number of manuscripts had been transported from Iceland to Norway, which indicates that this trade was important and therefore had an effect upon the work of the Icelandic scribes.74 His conclusion is that Icelandic scribes often normalized the texts they copied under the influence of Norwegian paleography and orthography. Among the manuscripts and fragments listed by Stefán Karlsson as being produced in Iceland and exported to Norway, two fragments can be found that belong to the group of manuscripts and scribes that has been discussed above: nra 60 A, a fragment of a Stjórn manuscript; and nra 62, a fragment of Karlamagnúss saga. This indicates, of course, that the scriptorium where these manuscripts were written also produced manuscripts for export to Norway. It is therefore important to reconsider the manuscript am 657 a–​b 4° in relation to the question of the authorship of Clári saga. Peter Hallberg points out that Clári saga is probably the work of Bergr Sokkason and further states that the ævintýri attributed to α has all the features of Bergr in common with Clári saga.75 He therefore claims to have shown it to be probable that Bergr Sokkason was the author/​translator of these texts and identical to α.76 Stefán Karlsson treats this issue thoroughly and concludes that the features used by Gering to characterize α are the same features that he himself attributes to Arngrímr Brandsson, a contemporary of Bergr Sokkason’s, who has been acknowledged as the author of one of the versions of Guðmundar saga biskups and Thómas saga.77 From the fact that Jóns þáttr Halldórssonar was written after the bishop’s death (1339), and judging from the common features of the texts allegedly written by α, it is reasonable to think that Jón Halldórsson is not identical with the one who compiled the ævintýri and Clári saga. Therefore, Stefán Karlsson considers it quite plausible that the

73 Stefán Karlsson, “Om norvagismer i islandske håndskrifter,” 97–​98. 74 Stefán Karlsson, “Islandsk bokeksport til Norge i middelalderen.” 75 Hallberg, Stilsignalement, 179–​82. 76 Hallberg, Stilsignalement, 182. 77 Stefán Karlsson, “Icelandic Lives of Thomas á Becket,” 235.

170 Johansson author α is identical to Arngrímr Brandsson.78 It is interesting in this connection to read Stefán Karlsson’s comment to the studies of Peter Hallberg: I am inclined to think that Peter Hallberg has demonstrated some common characteristics of two or more authors working at the same time, in the first half of the fourteenth century, and at least partially in the same environment, the Benedictine monasteries in northern Iceland.79 We must consider the attributions made by Peter Hallberg and Stefán Karlsson of the saga and ævintýri respectively to Bergr Sokkason and Arngrímr Brandsson in relation to the indications of a larger scriptorium with an export of manuscripts to Norway. Hallberg’s detailed studies of authorial peculiarities that could be attributed to a single author –​or, according to Stefán Karlsson, to an environment with a number of authors –​give strong evidence that these authors have worked on translating and collecting texts in connection to the scriptorium.80 If the criteria used by Hallberg are considered in relation to the criteria presented for the scribes related to the scriptorium, the language of this environment can be further elucidated from different angles. Hereby we can get a more detailed image of a scribal and editorial environment in a monastery scriptorium by the mid-​14th century. Many observations in the above discussion point to this environment as the origin of the manuscript that carries one of the text witnesses of Clári saga, am 657 a–​b 4°. The direct connection to Jón Halldórsson by Jakobsen should therefore most likely be rejected or at least modified; it could still be that Jón was the one who brought the work to Iceland or composed the original text in the vernacular, but the transmission of the text was more likely done in a monastery in the northern part of the island. The Norwegianisms of the saga can then be seen as part of the local tradition of producing texts and manuscripts, witnessed on all linguistic levels in this milieu. 5

Collections and Compilations

In what follows, the two writers/​translators/​compilers, usually referred to as α and β, and the scholarly debate concerning their work will be treated in some detail. In the further transmission of the individual texts as text witnesses 78 “Icelandic Lives of Thomas á Becket,” 236. 79 “Icelandic Lives of Thomas á Becket,” 237–​38. 80 Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus; see also “Texter i rörelse.”

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found in later manuscripts, there is a constant interplay between a number of various roles. Compilers accommodate the texts for their compilations, and individual scribes are active agents in the further appropriation of the texts. In the processes involved in this transmission, patrons or commissionaires, that could be either individuals or institutions, are influencing the way texts are collected, compiled and re-​written. And at the end of these processes the individual manuscript contains one reading or text witness. The collection of individual works and compilations in the manuscript represents what the contemporary readers may now very well have considered to be a coherent work. It is therefore of great interest to see how the texts attributed to α and β respectively are distributed in the work of the four scribes. It is firstly impor­ tant to note that the two alleged compilations of ævintýri are found only in hands iii and iv. In the first table (Table 7.2), I have listed the ævintýri in the order they appear in the manuscript and as they occur in the work of the two hands. The first impression from this information is that the order found in the manuscript is not the one found in Gering’s edition. This means that we must re-​think the distribution when we approach the individual manuscript and leave the order established by Gering if we wish to further our understanding of the dissemination of the texts in the 14th century. A second observation is that the two alleged compilers α and β are not consistently used as an ordering principle by the two scribes. Rather, the order of the text, as it is found in the manuscript, indicates that the scribes have had collections of ævintýri in their exemplars that were not at all dependent on the work of two compilers. When the distribution of ævintýri attributed to α and found in relation to hands iii and iv in Table 7.2 is compared to the overall distribution of texts and hands in the manuscript seen in Table 7.1, it does not support the suggested attribution. In Table 7.3 the collection of ævintýri attributed to β and considered to be the work of hand iv is listed. This could indicate a relation between β and hand iv, but if this is compared to the overall distribution in the manuscript as it is presented in Table 7.1, the suggested attribution to compiler β cannot be sustained by the manuscript context. From this investigation of the manuscript context in am 657 a–​b 4°, it is difficult to accept the suggestion of two compilers α and β who have subsequently been copied effortlessly and without intrusion by the two scribes iii and iv. The remaining impression is rather that these two scribes have had an earlier collection (or earlier collections) as exemplars and that the attribution to individual compilers or translators in earlier scholarship is based on the order established by Gering and his suggestion of two compilers.

172 Johansson table 7.2 Ævintýri attributed to compiler α and divided between hands iii and iv

Hand iii Æv10: Æv11: Æv16: Æv17: Æv26: Æv27: Æv90: Æv91: Æv92: Æv93: Æv95: Æv96: Æv101:

Frá þeim manni er drap prestana .ii. í kirkjunni ok fylgdi púkanum Frá Karlamagnúsi Af Vilhjálmi bastarði ok sonum hans Frá ferðum Roðbertz ok hans manna Frá því er púkinn gjörðiz ábóti Af ábóta er kvalðiz í brunni Af þrimr þjófum í Danmörk Af hálfum vin capitulum Hér segir af öllum vin Frá danska manni ok kerlingu Af Lanfranco Frá Heinreki keisara Af manni einum er leiddiz til helvítis ok himinríkis

Hand iv Æv1: Æv2: Æv3: Æv4: Æv6: Æv9: Æv15: Æv19: Æv22: Æv23: Æv24: Æv25: Æv26: Æv28: Æv42: Æv48: Æv78: Æv82: Æv83:

Af meistara Secundo ok hans móður Af riddara Romano Af Marcellino páfa Af frú Aglais Af Constantino kongi Af Sindulfo ok hans frú Af Gregorio páfa (B) Af ágirnd Absalons erkibiskups ok af einum bónda Af Celestino ok Bonifacio páfum (B) Jóns þáttr Halldórssonar Af biskupi ok púka Af biskupi ok flugu Af Keisara Tibercius (B) Af brytja ok bónda Af einum grefa (B) Af sýslomanni ok fjánda Af dauða ok kóngssyni Af þrimr kumpánum Af rómverska dáranum

am 657 a–b 4° and the Mouvance of Medieval Texts173 table 7.2 Ævintýri attributed to compiler α and divided between hands iii and iv (cont.)

Hand iv Æv85: Æv87: Æv88: Æv89: Æv98:

Af riddara ok álfkonu (B) Af einum meistara Af presti ok klukkara Trönuþáttr Frá dýri því er heitir Bemoth

table 7.3 Ævintýri attributed to compiler β and all written by hand iv

Æv12: Æv13: Æv14: Æv20: Æv21: Æv42: Æv43: Æv44: Æv45: Æv46: Æv47: Æv79: Æv80: Æv81: Æv85: Æv86: Æv94: Æv99: Æv100: 6

Af Formoso Af hinum helga Dunstano Af Silvestro páfa Af einni frú ok hennar syni Af einni ekkju ok syni hennar Af einum grefa (A) Af einum munk Af tveimr munkum Af Marinu munk Af dauða húsfreyju ok bónda Af skólaklerk Af kóngssyni ok kóngsdóttur Af gimsteinum af Indialandi Af meistara Pero ok hans leikum Af riddara ok álfkonu (A) Af konu einni kviksettri Af Remigio erkibiskupi Af tveimr bræðrum Af einsetumanni ok engli Conclusion

In this chapter I argue that a new approach to the composite manuscript am 657 a–​b 4° and the collections of texts composed by four different hands, most likely over time, can be used as an example of how we can reach new insights into the manuscript culture and its diversity and variance in the Middle Ages.

174 Johansson I challenge the traditional approach to ‘works’ and ‘authors’ (and further also ‘translators’ and ‘compilers’) and rather focus on the work of scribes and the reception their work reflects in the extant manuscript. My investigation will still have to be further elaborated in order to sustain my conclusions, but there are some preliminary observations I wish to point out. The first concerns Jón Halldórsson and his alleged authorship of Clári saga. This is still a valid question to address for those interested in the work of this bishop and his Dominican influence on 14th-​century literate production in Iceland, but the attribution based on Norwegian or Icelandic traits in the extant manuscripts does not seem to support the attribution. It has further been suggested that Jón Halldórsson could be responsible for what Gering suggested to be the compiler/​translator α of ævintýri. The α compiler/​translator has also been related to both Bergr Sokkason and Arngrímr Brandsson in earlier scholarship. The manuscript evidence of am 657 a–​b 4° does not support any of these attributions. Rather, it seems timely to dismiss the attribution to an individual compiler/​translator completely. It could still be valid to discuss the composition of Jóns þáttr Halldórssonar in relation to Arngrímr Brandsson for those interested in the literate activities in northern and south-​western Iceland in the 14th century, but the manuscript evidence is difficult to use as support for such an attribution. The attribution to compiler/​translator β could possibly still be supported in the fact that the ævintýri attributed to him are found only in parts of the manuscript produced by hand iv. It is noteworthy, however, that the scribe has not written the texts attributed to β as a unit; rather, they are distributed mixed with the texts attributed to the compiler/​translator α. These conclusions are obviously rather negative if we are still interested in establishing authors/​translators/​compilers to individual texts. If we are interested in the diversity and variance of medieval manuscript culture, the dissemination of texts and the reception as mirrored in the work of the scribes, however, my contention is that the present approach produces an interesting, relevant, and more consistent understanding of the culture under scrutiny than the traditional approach.

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Biskupa sögur, gefnar út af Hinu íslenzka bókmentafèlagi. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Guðbrandur Vigfússon, Þorvaldur Björnsson, and Eiríkur Jónsson. 2 vols. Copenhagen: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag, 1858–​78. Clári saga. Edited by Gustaf Cederschiöld. Halle a. S.: Max Niemeyer, 1907. Heilagra manna sögur. Fortællinger og legender om hellige mænd og kvinder. Edited by Carl Richard Unger. Christiania: Bentzen, 1877. Islendzk Æventyri: Isländische Legenden, Novellen und Märchen. Edited by Hugo Gering. 2 vols. Halle a. S.: Verlag der Buchhandlung des Waisenhauses, 1882–​83. Stjorn. Gammelnorsk Bibelhistorie fra Verdens Skabelse til det babyloniske Fangenskab. Edited by Carl Richard Unger. Christiania: Feilberg & Landmark, 1862. Stjórn. Tekst efter håndskriftene. Edited by Reidar Astås. 2 vols. Norrøne tekster 8. Oslo: Riksarkivet, 2010. Tales of Knights. Perg. fol. nr 7 in the Royal Library, Stockholm (AM 567 VIβ4to, NKS 1265 IIc fol.). Edited by Christopher Sanders. Manuscripta Nordica. Early Nordic Manuscripts in Digital Facsimile, vol. 1. Copenhagen: Reitzel, 2000.



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176 Johansson Guðbjörg Kristjánsdóttir. “Handritalýsingar í benediktínaklaustrinu á Þingeyrum.” In Íslensk klausturmenning á miðöldum, edited by Haraldur Bernharðsson, 227–​311. Reykjavik: Miðaldastofa Háskóla Íslands, 2016. Guðvarður Már Gunnlaugsson. “Voru scriptoria í íslenskumklaustrum?” In Íslensk klausturmenning á miðöldum, edited by Haraldur Bernharðsson, 173–​ 200. Reykjavik: Miðaldastofa Háskóla Íslands, 2016. Gunnar Harðarson. “Hauksbók og alfræðirit miðalda.” Gripla 27 (2016): 127–​55. Hallberg, Peter. “Bergr Sokkason and religious Icelandic literature.” In Samtíðarsögur. The Contemporary Sagas. Preprints of the Ninth International Saga Conference, Akureyri 31.7–​6.8.1994, 296–​300. Akureyri: Stofnun Árna Magnússonar, 1994. Hallberg, Peter. Stilsignalement och författarskap i norrön sagalitteratur. Synpunkter och exempel. Acta Nordistica Gothoburgensia 3. Gothenburg: University of Gothenburg, 1968. Hughes, Shaun F. D. “Klári saga as an Indigenous Romance.” In Romance and Love in Late Medieval and Early Modern Iceland. Essays in Honor of Marianne Kalinke, edited by Kirsten Wolf and Johanna Denzin, 135–​63. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Library, 2008. Jakob Benediktsson. “Introduction.” In “Catilina” and “Jugurtha” by Sallust and “Pharsalia” by Lucan in Old Norse: Rómverjasaga, AM 595 a–​b 4to, edited by Jakob Benediktsson, 7–​24. Early Icelandic Manuscripts in Facsimile 13. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde & Bagger, 1980. Jakob Benediktsson. “Some observations on Stjórn and the manuscript AM 227 fol.” Gripla 15 (2004): 7–​42. Jakobsen, Alfred. Studier i Clarus saga: Til spørsmålet om sagaens norske proveniens. Årbok for Universitetet i Bergen, Humanistisk serie 1963, no. 2. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1964. Johansson, Karl G. “1300-​talets lärda kultur. Poetik och praxis från Lilja till Háttalykill Lopts Guttormssonar”. In Snorres Edda i europeisk og islandsk kultur, edited by Jon Gunnar Jørgensen, 11–​46. Reykholt: Snorrastofa, 2009. Johansson, Karl G. “A Scriptorium in Northern Iceland. Clárus saga (AM 657 a–​b 4to) Revisited.” In “Sagas and the Norwegian Experience/​Sagaene og Noreg”. 10th International Saga Conference, Trondheim, 3.–​9. August 1997. Trondheim: Senter for middelalderstudier, Trondheim, 1997. Johansson, Karl G. “Bergr Sokkason och Arngrímur Brandsson –​översättare och författare i samma miljö.” In Old Norse Myths, Literature and Society: Proceedings of the 11th International Saga Conference 2–​7 July, University of Sydney, edited by Geraldine Barnes and Margaret Clunies Ross, 181–​97. Sydney: Centre for Medieval Studies, University of Sydney, 2000. Johansson, Karl G. “Compilations, collections and composite manuscripts. Some notes on the manuscript Hauksbók.” In RE:writing. Medial Perspectives on Textual Culture in the

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Icelandic Middle Ages, edited by Kate Heslop and Jürg Glauser, 121–​41. Medienwandel –​ Medienwechsel –​Medienwissen, Band 29. Zürich: Chronos Verlag, 2018. Johansson, Karl G. “Delen och helheten i medeltidens handskriftskultur –​Hervarar saga ok Heiðreks konungs och Hauksbók.” In “Vi ska alla vara välkomna!” Nordiska studier tillägnade Kristinn Jóhannesson, edited by Auður Magnúsdóttir, Henrik Janson, Karl G. Johansson, Mats Malm and Lena Rogström, 117–​35. Gothenburg: Göteborgs universitet, 2008. Johansson, Karl G. “Om nordiskt och lärt hos de tidiga benediktinerna på Island. Nikulás Bergssons Leiðarvísir og borgskipan och isländsk litteracitet.” In Tidlige klostre i Norden før 1200, edited by Lars Bisgaard and Tore Nyberg, 157–​75. Odense: Syddansk Universitetsforlag, 2006. Johansson, Karl G. “Översättning och originalspråkstext i handskriftstraderingens våld –​ Merlínusspá och Vǫluspá i Hauksbók.” In Neue Ansätze in der Mittelalterphilologie, edited by Suzanne Kramarz-​ Bein, 97–​ 113. Texte und Untersuchungen zur Germanistik und Skandinavistik, bind 55. Frankfurt am Main, 2005. Johansson, Karl G. “Texter i rörelse. Översättning, original textproduktion och tradering på norra Island 1150–​1400.” In Überzetzen im skandinavischen Mittelalter, edited by Vera Johanterwage and Stefanie Würth, 83–​106. Studia Medievalia Septentrionalia 14. Wien: Fassbaender, 2007. Johansson, Karl G. “The Hauksbók: An Example of Medieval Modes of Collecting and Compilation.” In The Dynamics of the Medieval Manuscript: Text Collections from a European Perspective, edited by Karen Pratt, Bart Besamusca, Matthias Meyer, Ad Putter, with Hannah Morcos, 131–​45. Göttingen: V&R Unipress GmbH, 2017. Johansson, Karl G. “The Learned Sturlungar and the Emergence of Icelandic Literate Culture.” In Snorri Sturluson and Reykholt. The Author and Magnate, his Life, Works and Environment at Reykholt in Iceland, edited by Guðrún Sveinbjarnardóttir and Helgi Þorláksson, 333–​88. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 2018. Johansson, Karl G. Studier i Codex Wormianus. Skrifttradition och avskriftsverksamhet vid ett isländskt skriptorium under 1300-​talet. Nordistica Gothoburgensia 20. Gothenburg: Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis, 1997. Jón Viðar Sigurðsson. “The Education of Sturla Þórðarson (and the Icelandic Elite).” In Sturla Þórðarson. Skald, Chieftain and Lawman, edited by Jón Viðar Sigurðsson and Sverrir Jakobsson, 20–​30. Leiden: Brill, 2017. Kalinke, Marianne. “Clári saga. A Case of Low German Infiltration.” Scripta Islandica 59 (2008): 5–​25. Kålund, Kristian. Katalog over Den Arnamagnæanske håndskriftsamling. 2 vols. Copenhagen: Gyldendalske Boghandel, 1889–​94. Kleivane, Elise. “There is more to Stjórn than Biblical Translation.” In Speculum septentrionale. Konungs skuggsjá and the European Encyclopedia of the Middle Ages, edited by Karl G. Johansson and Elise Kleivane, 115–​47. Oslo: Novus, 2018.

178 Johansson Kolbrún Haraldsdóttir. “Die Flateyjarbók und der Anfang ihrer Óláfs saga helga.” Opuscula 16 (2016): 177–​214. Kolbrún Haraldsdóttir. “Für welchen Empfänger wurde die Flateyjarbók ursprünglich konzipiert?” Opuscula 13 (2010): 1–​53. Liepe, Lena. Studies in Icelandic Fourteenth Century Book Painting. Reykholt: Snorrastofa, 2009. Lönnroth, Lars. “Sponsors, Writers and Readers.” In Two Norse-​Icelandic Studies: Sponsors, Writers and Readers and A Road Paved with Legends, edited by Lars Lönnroth, 1–​16. Meddelanden nr 7. Gothenburg: Litteraturvetenskapliga institutionen, Göteborgs universitet, 1990. Lönnroth, Lars. “Tesen om de två kulturerna. Kritiska studier i den isländska sagaskrivningens sociala förutsättningar.” Scripta Islandica 15 (1965): 1–​97. Males, Mikael. “Wormianusredaktören. Språk, tro och sanning vid 1300-​talets mitt.” Arkiv för nordisk filologi 128 (2013): 41–​77. Minnis, Alastair J. Medieval Theory of Authorship. Scholastic Literary Attitudes in the Later Middle Ages. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1988. Ólafur Halldórsson. Helgafellsbækur fornar. Studia Islandica, vol. 24. Reykjavik, 1966. Rowe, Elizabeth Ashman. “Literary, Codicological, and Political Perspectives on Hauksbók.” Gripla 19 (2008): 51–​76. Rowe, Elizabeth Ashman. “Ragnars saga loðbrókar, Ragnarssona þáttr, and the Political World of Haukr Erlendsson.” In Fornaldarsagaerne. Myter og Virkelighed, edited by Agneta Ney, Ármann Jakobsson and Annette Lassen, 347–​60. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 2009. Rowe, Elizabeth Ashman. The Development of Flateyjarbók. Iceland and the Norwegian Dynastic Crisis of 1389. Odense: The University Press of Southern Denmark, 2005. Snijders, Tjamke. “Work, Version, Text and Scriptum. High Medieval Manuscript Terminology in the Aftermath of the New Philology.” Digital Philology 2.2 (Fall 2013): 266–​96. Stefán Karlsson. “Icelandic Lives of Thomas á Becket: Questions of Authorship.” In Proceedings of the First International Saga Conference, University of Edinburgh 1971, edited by Peter Foote, Hermann Pálsson and Desmond Slay, 212–​43. London: Viking Society for Northern Research, 1973. Stefán Karlsson. “Islandsk bokeksport til Norge i middelalderen.” Maal og Minne (1979): 1–​17. Stefán Karlsson. “Om norvagismer i islandske håndskrifter.” Maal og Minne (1978): 87–​101. Stefán Karlsson. “Ritun Reykjarfjarðarbókar. Excursus: Bókagerð bænda.” Opuscula 4 (1970): 120–​40. Steinunn Kristjánsdóttir. Leitin að klaustrunum. Klausturhald á Íslandi í fimm aldir. Reykjavik: Sögufélag, 2017.

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Svanhildur Óskarsdóttir. “Opbyggelige historier fra Reynistaður. Bibelmateriale i AM 764 4to.” In Den nordiske renässansen i høymiddelalderen, edited by Jón Viðar Sigurðsson & Preben Meulengracht Sørensen, 101–​109. Oslo: Universitetet i Oslo, 2000. Svanhildur Óskarsdóttir. “Universal history in fourteenth-​century Iceland. Studies in AM 764 4to.” PhD diss., University College London, 2000. Sverrir Jakobsson. “Hauksbók and the Construction of an Icelandic World View.” Saga-​ Book of the Viking Society for Northern Research, Vol. 31 (2007): 22–​38. Sverrir Jakobsson. Við og veröldin. Heimsmynd Íslendinga 1100–​ 1400. Reykjavik: Háskólaútgáfan, 2005. Sverrir Tómasson. “Helgisagnaritun á 14. öld –​norðlenski Benediktínaskólinn.” In Íslensk bókmenntasaga, vol. 2, edited by Vésteinn Ólason, 249–​63. Reykjavik: Mál og menning, 1993. Sverrir Tómasson. “Íslenskar Nikulás sögur/​ Icelandic Lives of St Nicholas.” In Helgastaðabók. Nikulás saga. Perg. 4to Nr. 16. Konungsbókhlöðu í Stockhólmi, edited by Selma Jónsdóttir, Stefán Karlsson and Sverrir Tómasson, 11–​41/​147–​76. Íslensk Miðaldahandrit, Manuscripta Islandica Medii Aevi, vol. 2. Reykjavik: Lögberg, 1982. Toury, Gideon. Descriptive translation studies and beyond. Benjamins translation library, vol. 4. Benjamins: Amsterdam, 1995. Unger, Carl Richard. “Indledning.” In Heilagra manna sögur. Fortællinger og legender om hellige mænd og kvinder, edited by Carl Richard Unger, i–​xxiv. Christiania: Bentzen, 1877. Wendt, Bo A. “En text är en text är en text? Om en terminologisk tredelning av textbegreppet.” Arkiv för nordisk filologi 121 (2006): 253–​74. Zumthor, Paul. Toward a Medieval Poetics. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1992.

pa rt 4 Music and Liturgy

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chapter 8

Liturgical Change and Liturgical Plurality in the Province of Nidaros: New Light on the Ordo Nidrosiensis Ecclesiae Astrid Marner In 1968, Lilli Gjerløw edited an ordinal under the title Ordo Nidrosiensis ecclesiae, which she assumed to have been composed and issued at the archiepiscopal see of Nidaros in 1205/​1227 and to have been distributed systematically throughout Norway, Iceland, and other parts of the province.1 The ordinal is preserved in four manuscripts and four small fragments all dating from the 13th and 14th centuries. With the exception of one fragment, which comes from the Trondheim area, all the witnesses were produced, used and transmitted in Iceland. The Ordo Nidrosiensis ecclesiae ordinal, hereinafter referred to as on, presents a sequence of song texts, prayers and readings for Christian worship by incipit, the exception to this being reoccurring elements such as the sequence of weekday psalms, the ordo missae, and the ordinarium officii. The on adheres to the most common patterns of organization: it has a bipartite structure of temporale and sanctorale and inserts the instructions for Mass after sext of the Divine Office.2 Its liturgy follows the Gregorian rite and is influenced by the Bury St Edmunds liturgy, the Hirsau liturgy (via the Rheinauer Liber ordinarius), the Decreta Lanfranci, Bernold of Constance’s Micrologus de ecclesiasticis officiis, and Honorius Augustodunensis’s Gemma animae among other sources.3 Ever since Gjerløw’s edition, scholarship has taken the on as the norm against which other liturgical manuscripts from Iceland and Norway should be measured. Comparison with the on is a standard step in the methodology of fragment researchers, although it often yields a mismatch between the ordinal and these liturgical books.4 Recent analysis of the medieval 1 Ordo Nidrosiensis Ecclesiae: Orðubók, ed. Gjerløw. 2 For a definition of the ordinal genre, see Lohse, “Stand und Perspektiven der Liber ordinarius-​ Forschung,” 215–​56; idem, “Der Liber Ordinarius als ‘unfester Text’: Drei editorische Maximen,” 125–​44. 3 Gjerløw, introduction to Ordo Nidrosiensis Ecclesiae, 85–​111. 4 Gjerløw, Antiphonarium Nidrosiensis Ecclesiae; Ommundsen, “Books, Scribes and Sequences in Medieval Norway”; Attinger, “Icelandic Medieval Manuscripts Containing Sequences”.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_010

184 Marner English liturgy challenges the unconditional normativity of archiepiscopal ordinals and concedes their suggestive and adaptable nature.5 Researchers now acknowledge the high level of textual mouvance in ordinals, which can be explained through local adaptions of the cathedral rite as well as the constant updating of the contents to reflect recent changes of the actual liturgy.6 Observations on the mechanisms according to which ordinals evolved in medieval England naturally challenge our conception of the book type as a whole. Although the number of ordinals preserved from Norway and Iceland is rather small when compared to England, it is time that we revisit the rationale behind the edition of the on and challenge perceptions that prevail in Norwegian and Icelandic liturgical studies until the present day. I aim to show in this article that the on in its preserved form cannot be taken as a compulsory liturgy for the whole province of Nidaros. Instead, the preserved manuscripts and fragments are considered as various representatives of locally grown liturgies, which share a common core. To this end, I will examine (1) the manuscript tradition of the on, (2) mechanisms of liturgical development, (3) evidence for liturgical plurality in the province of Nidaros, and (4) a selection of service books from the province of Nidaros. All four aspects point in the same direction, namely that the value and applicability of the on edition are decisively different from what scholars have believed so far. I conclude by suggesting a revised understanding of the development and transmission of ordinals in the province, which could help account for liturgical reality (as represented by fragmentarily preserved books for the Office and Mass) and might open the field for mapping out ritual plurality throughout the province, especially in the Norwegian dioceses.

The term ‘liturgical books’ refers to any manuscript used for the preparation or performance of the liturgical service, i.e. Mass and Office. Besides ordinals, this includes, but is not limited to, missals (Mass books with instructions and texts), breviaries (Office books with instructions and texts), lectionaries (books with readings for Mass or Office), and song books for either service such as antiphoners and graduals. For more detailed definitions, see Hughes, Medieval Manuscripts for Mass and Office. 5 Pfaff, The Liturgy in Medieval England; Hughes, Medieval Manuscripts; Reames, “Mouvance and Interpretation in Late-​medieval Latin”; Morgan, “The Sanctorals of Early Sarum Missals and Breviaries”; Salisbury, The Secular Liturgical Office. 6 Lohse, “Der Liber Ordinarius,” 132–​33.

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185

Manuscript Transmission

Gjerløw’s edition is based on the presumption that all ordinals from medieval Iceland and Norway ultimately go back to a shared archetype, which had been normatively imposed on the whole province of Nidaros by the archbishops from the early 13th century.7 There are four full manuscripts and four minor fragments (see Table 8.1).8 With the exception of Na, all copies were made and used in Iceland.9 According to Gjerløw, the Icelandic witnesses derive from the same ancestor, from which they devolved into three families.10 The A family (ms A) is taken to be closest to the Icelandic ancestor and the on archetype, which is why Gjerløw employs it as the preferred witness for the edition. The B family (mss B, D, E, and F) diverges from the A family in having a more concise text. The incipits are shorter throughout, while the rubrics match almost verbatim with A. In Gjerløw’s edition, witness B supplies text whenever there is a lacuna in ms A, all other members of the B family are used in the apparatus. The C family (mss C and G) is an adapted version, which might have been distilled from a member of the B family. This ordinal is shorter than members of the A or B family, which equally affects the rendering of the incipits and the rubrics. C does not provide some of the elements found in mss A and B and seems to be applicable to an Icelandic parish church.11 Because of these differences, Gjerløw does not consider C in the edition’s main text or apparatus –​ except for a part of the sanctorale that has not been preserved in any other copy.12 While all Icelandic fragments seem to match with one of the full manuscripts, Na provides yet another ordinal version, which contains more details and provides standard elements for two feasts. Gjerløw therefore held it to be the closest descendent of the on archetype.13 This judgement might have been 7 8

9 10 11 12 13

Gjerløw, introduction, 29–​33. For a detailed description of the copies, see Gjerløw, introduction, 55–​74. Here, Gjerløw lists Stockholm, The National Library of Sweden, Isl. Perg. 4:o no. 5 as ms H. However, this is not an ordinal copy as such, but later additions to a now palimpsestic lectionary, which is why it is not considered in this article. The additions match what is found in mss A, B and D with omissions. I follow Gjerløw’s attribution based on paleographical evidence and documentation pertaining to the history of the manuscripts, cf. Gjerløw, introduction, 55–​74. For the information of this paragraph, see Gjerløw, introduction, 55–​74, esp. 73–​74. Gjerløw, introduction, 66. Gjerløw justifies this decision because the sanctorale tallies better with the other full witnesses than the temporale, ibid. 74. “On the whole, the Nidaros fragment is more circumstantial in giving the invariable texts, such as psalms and versicles, which have been left out in the Icelandic copies. In the

186 Marner promoted by Na’s Norwegian origin and its association with the Trondheim region by reuse.14 None of the copies covers a full run of temporale and sanctorale, and the fragments give only a very selective random choice of feasts. ms A lacks some quires in the beginning and middle of the sanctorale, St Andrew to St Matthias between folios 46v and 47r, and Peter and Paul to All Saints between folios 54v and 55r.15 Apart from some minor lacunae here and there, B has a defective fifth quire, in which probably two bifolia are missing, and at least one quire must be lost toward the end, leaving the sanctorale ending with St Adrian. In ms D, at least one quaternion is lost between quires v and vi, and several quires containing the sanctorale following St Paul are missing after quire viii. ms C has a time lapse in its production and a quire structure that might point at a more complex formation of the codex than admitted by Gjerløw.16 The fragments cover only a few feasts of either temporale or sanctorale, and no one can be compared to another. In addition, there is no overlap between ms E and either part of ms C, and the Norwegian fragment Na cannot be directly compared to Gjerløw’s base ms A. The overlap between mss C and G is inconvenient: it is only for a few lines that the two can actually be compared (these are also in ms A and D), while the rest of the fragment coincides with mss A and B only. Here, differences between G and the other copies might

14

15 16

Lucy Office, the Icelandic manuscripts omit to mention that the ninth response should be repeated instead of the ‘Te Deum’, limiting themselves to saying ‘Te Deum non dicatur’.” Gjerløw, introduction, 72. Na had been used in the binding of account books from 1620 in Trondheim. This archival provenance makes it likely that the full manuscript had in medieval times been used in the corresponding diocese of Nidaros proper. On the Norwegian fragment corpus and the reconstruction of the manuscripts’ primary provenance, see Pettersen, “From Parchment Books to Fragments,” esp. 45–​48. The part of Ac (fols. 42-​54) might have originally been larger. There is something lacking between the part of Ac and Aa (starting at fol. 56r). It is uncertain whether part Cab (quires i –​ v written by two scribes around 1300) and Ccd (quires vi –​ vii written by two scribes in the late 14th/​early 15th century) actually were representatives of the same (or even a similar) liturgy, as they might have been bound together even a long time after Ccd was copied. There is a gap in the sanctorale between quires v and vi, which makes it unlikely that part Ccd was written on demand to fill the old ordinal’s incomplete sanctorale. Gjerløw did not consider the possibility of a different generic origin for Cab and Ccd. A different origin, however, would have serious implications for the whole stemma, especially since Ccd does not overlap with any of the fragments or ms D. It must also be noted that the parts penned by Cb are closer to the on edition than the parts by Ca. If in fact the two parts were copied from different exemplars, this could explain why the sanctorale, esp. the part copied by Ccd seems to match much better with the A and B family than Cab, which also has been noted by Gjerløw, introduction, 65–​66.

Liturgical Change and Liturgical Plurality187 table 8.1 The ordinal manuscript transmission

A

Reykjavik, The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies, am 679 4to B Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am 680a 4to C Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am 678 4to D Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am 791 4to E Copenhagen, The Royal Library, gks 3273 4to fols. 133–​134 (fragment of 2 fols.) F Stockholm, The National Library of Sweden, Isl. Perg. 8:o no. 5, binding (fragment of 6 fols.) G Stockholm, The National Library of Sweden, Isl. Perg. 4:o no. 36 V (fragment of 2 fols.) Na Oslo, The National Archives of Norway, Lat. Fragm. 140b (fragment of 1 horizontal strip)

Dating

Origin

Medieval Post–​ Provenance Reformation Provenance

1275–​1300

Iceland Skálholt

Northern Iceland

1250–​1300

Iceland Viðey

Northern Iceland

Cab 1300 Iceland unknown Ccd 1390–​1410 1350–​1400 Iceland unknown

unknown

1300+

Iceland unknown

binding ca. 1600

1375–​1400

Iceland Hólar?

palimpsest Skálholt s. xvi

1350

Iceland Hólar

palimpsest Hólar late Middle Ages

1300–​1325

Norway unknown

Trondheim 1620

Northern Iceland

188 Marner account more for the fragment’s grouping than its actual correspondence with C. For her collation, Gjerløw thus had to textually compare the fragments to the full manuscripts, note tendencies in textual deviation (such as “a more economic edition … without loss of contents”),17 and generalize these tendencies with respect to the former full manuscript. 2

Liturgical Development

In order for such a method to work, the ordinals must have undergone textual change equally throughout the manuscript. This might be true for the rendering of rubrics or incipits, but feasts in general were added or re-​graded individually. While Gjerløw claims that the fixation of a liturgical rite in writing would perpetuate it with additions only happening in the sanctorale,18 we know from other parts of the Western Church that the re-​grading and even down-​grading of feasts is attested for both liturgical cores.19 Song texts, prayers or readings can be common to several uses for certain feasts, but at the same time they can vary significantly even within one and the same use, and change may occur here and there as the compiler or user would have found it necessary.20 In this process, a change of sources can complicate matters further. Marginal additions usually derive from a source other than the main text’s exemplar. Eventually, they might have become incorporated in later copies, while in other cases they might have been left out by the scribe and added again later to the margin. For instance, there are instructions for vespers for the last Sunday before Christmas. In ms A fol. 6r–​v, they appear as part of the main text, while being significantly reduced in ms D fol. 7r and ms B fol. 11v. In the top margin of the same leaf in ms B, the same instructions as in ms A’s main text are added by a later hand. Here, it is obvious that something had been left out in the tradition of group B that was supplemented in ms B at

17 18 19

20

Gjerløw, introduction, 62. “A liturgical tradition, once committed to writ, will as a rule remain firm except for the accretions brought about by the growth of the sanctorale.” Gjerløw, introduction, 38. In Scotland, for instance, liturgical books were strongly influenced by the Sarum rite. The sanctorale, however, was considerably modified in order to obtain a more national profile. Thus, the feasts of English saints were systematically downgraded, while local Scottish saints were elevated or introduced with a higher rank. Cf. Macquarrie, “Scottish Saints’ Legends in the Aberdeen Breviary,” 146. Cf. Reames, “Mouvance and Interpretation,” 161.

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a later point.21 When a certain part of a text is present in one manuscript, but lacks in another, the specific textual movement must be judged case by case. A comparatively small corpus and eclectic fragments do not always allow us to come to a conclusion, and in such cases, it might be better to leave the exact interrelation undetermined. Even the liturgical traditions on which the on draws are not conclusive with regard to a deliberate creation of this liturgy. Gjerløw has convincingly traced the sources for the on, most notably the Hirsau liturgy and Honorius Augustodunensis’s Gemma animae. Hirsau liturgical elements are also present in the liturgy of Lund, into which they were incorporated via the Rheinauer Liber ordinarius, and Gjerløw suggests that the on in turn drew on the Lund liturgy rather than directly on Hirsau or the Rheinauer Liber ordinarius.22 The rubrics from Gemma animae, on the other hand, do not correspond to those found in other Nordic ordinals. Gjerløw therefore suggests that it was incorporated into the on directly.23 Gjerløw provides a reasonable argument here. What we lack sources and documentation for, however, is the politically motivated campaign which Gjerløw assumes to stand behind this combination of sources. This is closely tied to the elevation of Nidaros as archiepiscopal see and the names of the first archbishops, Eysteinn Erlendsson and Eiríkr Ívarsson. Their names, however, are only mentioned three times within the on, and in all three cases, their character is more that of a later addition.24 If either of them had actually been responsible for the creation of the ordinal in its preserved form, such references would be either pervasive or lacking completely. It is therefore more likely that their effect on the ordinals in question was actually limited to the instances labelled as such, and in such a case, that they became organically incorporated in the main text over time. In turn, this leaves no foundation to assume a single 21 22 23 24

The majority of relevant marginalia in mss A and B post-​date the other copies. This means that the incorporation of marginalia into the main text is something that is not likely to occur often in this corpus. Gjerløw, introduction, 85–​90. Ibid. 97. Archbishop Eysteinn approached the pope to solve practicalities about the celebration of the Vigil of St Matthias (Ordo Nidrosiensis Ecclesiae, 322). As a consequence, Eysteinn passed a synodic decree in correspondence with the pope’s answer, and the answer is partially quoted in the corresponding passages of mss A, B, and D. Other rubrics point out that Archbishop Eysteinn introduced the feast day of St Augustine by synodic decree, and that Archbishop Eiríkr was responsible for the installation of the octave of the annunciation of the bmv (Ibid. 386 and 7). The rubrics are found in a part only transmitted by ms B, which means that we cannot be certain as to how essential these rubrics were in an overall perspective.

190 Marner campaign, in which the ordinals could have been issued to replace liturgical pluralism at such an early point in time. A more organic growth of the liturgies represented in the transmitted on manuscripts allows at the same time for the unique mixture of sources within individual occasions and a more coherent underlying structure represented by rubrics paralleled in two separate traditions. Apart from demonstrating textual movement, marginalia can inform us further about the active usage of the ordinal manuscripts. They indicate an organic growth of the liturgy and constant work at its structure and single elements. They are a witness to momentary change as well as demonstrating the duration of the manuscript’s use. The marginal annotations in mss A and B show that the ordinals had been employed at least until the middle of the 15th century; there are additions of feasts as well as explanations.25 Most of these marginalia were added in the first century after the manuscripts’ completion. More recent text in the margins and other free space, however, comes in the form of unsystematic scribblings that have nothing to do with the liturgy. If we take thematic annotation of liturgical manuscripts as evidence for its continued use, one would expect to find a natural growth of the sanctorale or corrections of and changes to the text, if it had been used up to the Reformation, i.e. for about 150 years more. Strikingly, none of the witnesses contains the feast of Corpus Christi, which was introduced by Bishop Jón Halldórsson in 1326 into the national calendar, more than sixty years after its inclusion in the Roman calendar.26 This could be explained, however, by the fact that this part of the liturgy is only covered by mss A and D, which overall carry fewer amendments than ms B. In ms C, corrections of the text are pervasive across quires and with all four scribes, and some few marginal additions occur, for instance a full entry for St Jón of Hólar on fol. 28v.27 To ms D, structural elements were added in the margins to facilitate access to the individual feasts. On folios 3r–​7r, they come in the form of additional rubrics (for example “dominica iiija” on fol. 5r, or “iij” for terce on fol. 7r), while folios 61r–​63v have paragraph signs for new occasions. Apart from that, ms D is strangely void of traces of usage.28

25 26 27 28

The marginalia are described in Gjerløw, introduction, 75–​79. The Icelandic national assembly accepted the feast in 1326 according to annals and narrative sources. For details see Haki Antonsson, St Magnús of Orkney, 18–​19. See also Gjerløw, introduction, 75. The only marginal entries with liturgical value are on fol. 63v. On folios 32r and 59v, the marginalia are illegible. The marginalia on folios 1r, 26r, 36r, 51v, 53v, and 56v, are pen trials or non-​liturgical notes.

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191

As shown, marginalia indicate that the liturgy transmitted in the manuscripts underwent changes in a thoroughly unsystematic and thus un-​ anticipatable way, which is why the methods of traditional philology are unreliable when approaching this highly fragmented corpus. If we accept that redactional change occurs unsystematically in the manuscript transmission, we will automatically lose any hint as to which variant to accept as the one closest to the supposed archetype.29 3

Liturgical Plurality

However, it is not only the feasibility to draw a stemma that should be questioned. Another reason why Gjerløw’s edition might distort the image we gain of the liturgies in the province of Nidaros, is that it is based on the presumption of liturgical unity. This unity is in contrast to what we find in several witnesses from the later Middle Ages. In 1429, Archbishop Aslak Bolt and the Nidaros cathedral chapter issued a list over the possessions which he had taken with him from Bergen to Nidaros. Among these is mentioned a “breviary according to the use of Bergen”.30 Since the book is clearly labelled with the liturgy it contained, this liturgy must have been obviously distinguishable from the one practiced in Nidaros. It shows that other dioceses within the province could follow a practice of their own, and it implies that at least by the beginning of the 15th century, there was no uniform liturgy throughout the province. In 1464, Bishop Jón Krabbi Stefánsson (1462–​65) assessed the ordinal of Skálholt cathedral. He compiled an open letter, which can be found as a later attachment to mss A (fol. 59r) and B (pre-​fixed leaf).31 Both of these additions are approximately of the same date as the letter was issued, but we do not know if it was these two witnesses that Jón had actually compared, or if the 29

There also seem to be patterns of movement in the manuscripts’ history, which point at certain changes in liturgical practice. After an initial period of use in the diocese of Skálholt, several of the Icelandic manuscripts (mss A and B, and probably also D) had come to Northern Iceland. In the diocese of Hólar, we can see that G had gone out of use, as it was palimpsest already before the Reformation. Of course, we can only assume why this ordinal copy had become obsolete –​was it defective, was it simply superfluous, or had it become outdated? In any case, it seems that neither of the ordinal manuscripts had been continuously used until the end of the medieval period. 30 “vnum breuiarium per totum annum secundum modum Bergis.” Diplomatarium Norvegicum, 5, no. 2:410. 31 There are no other witnesses to this letter. mss C and D are without approbation.

192 Marner letters were added slightly later by someone else.32 In any case, Jón found the Skálholt ordinal to comply with the liturgy at Nidaros cathedral. Some liturgical elements were obviously different, which he explained through contamination with the monastic rite followed by earlier bishops.33 Although Jón generally wanted the official liturgy to match with the one of the archiepiscopal see, he retained in the Skálholt ordinal some elements not in the on, such as an Office for the bmv and the feasts of St Þorlákr and St Jón of Hólar, and he also approved of ritual traditions that were not recorded in the ordinal he worked with.34 Since we find this letter attached to both mss A and B, this strongly suggests that the manuscripts do not contain the use of the province of Nidaros as such, but the liturgical use of Skálholt cathedral. It shows that there was a tendency to harmonize the service at the episcopal sees in the second half of the 15th century, but this does not imply that this harmony was pursued earlier. It does attest to a shared core and essential similarity, but exactly how this similarity came into effect is not transmitted. If anything, Jón’s assessment shows that there had been an earlier organic evolution of the local liturgy according to the needs and wishes of its executors, which covered among other things the introduction of feasts and a modification of the Divine Office. Moreover, mss A and B do not necessarily contain a use applying to the whole diocese of Skálholt.35 The letter refers explicitly to cathedral use, and it does not mention any implications for parish churches or requests to adopt the same liturgy. In other words, there is no evidence for a unifying tendency throughout the Southern Icelandic diocese even in the 15th century, let alone the whole province of Nidaros. According to Bishop Jón Krabbi Stefánsson’s letter, the liturgical use in mss A and B is generally compliant with the use at Nidaros cathedral, but it contains a number of deviations. These deviations are significant in so far as they pertain to all levels of the ordinal: the rubrics, the structure of feasts, the choice of song and lection texts, and the texts themselves. Gjerløw found the text in ms B to be shorter than in ms A, but without “loss of contents (except as 32 33 34 35

Diplomatarium Islandicum, 5:411. This would imply that they had been kept at Skálholt at that time, which is not implausible given the manuscripts’ background (and marginalia), but which cannot be answered conclusively, cf. Gjerløw, introduction, 79. Diplomatarium Islandicum, 5:411–​12. Diplomatarium Islandicum, 5:412. It must be noted that ms B seems to have been at Viðey around the time that the open letter was issued, although we cannot be certain regarding the sequence and details of events. There was close connection between Skálholt and Viðey throughout the Middle Ages, which could mean that both actually followed a very similar liturgy, without this liturgy actually being applicable to minor churches throughout the diocese.

Liturgical Change and Liturgical Plurality

193

regards some very valuable alia-​texts found in A alone)”.36 However, Jón’s letter had been deemed applicable to both mss A and B by him or a contemporary. This demonstrates that the medieval perception of what represented the same liturgical use might have varied considerably from our modern understanding. So, if Jón finds the liturgies of Skálholt and Nidaros cathedral to be similar, we do not know to which parts of the liturgy this statement applies: is it the sequence and grade of feasts, is it the practical instructions for the celebration of single occasions, or is it the song and lection texts? How much tolerance is there for variation in order to still be the same liturgy in the eyes of a medieval user? Similar late medieval evidence is given by Archbishop Erik Valkendorf, the compiler of the province’s first printed breviary Breviarium Nidrosiense. He states in his prologue that he found a high degree of liturgical plurality both on a diocesan and a provincial level.37 He does not say directly which elements he focused on in his examination, but from his enumeration of different diocesan uses, it seems that the order, grade, and celebration of feasts were more important than the single text that was to be read.38 It is important to note here that the Breviarium Nidrosiense is an early printed book intended to create a standardized liturgy at a time when no standard yet existed. It therefore might convey the misleading feeling of unity instead of the “much more fluid and pluralistic picture”39 that we find in medieval liturgical manuscripts in general. The books are Valkendorf’s instrument to ensure liturgical quality throughout his province, and while the contents surely built onto the manuscript tradition available to him at the episcopal see, they also follow Valkendorf’s own agenda. It is therefore necessary to be careful when using the Breviarium Nidrosiense for reference. These books do reflect liturgical usage in Norway (and maybe also Iceland) on the eve of the Reformation, and to some

36 37 38

39

Gjerløw, introduction, 62. Breuiaria, [4]‌–​[5]. What Valkendorf mentions in the prologue mostly pertains to the calendar, noting which saints’ or other feasts should be celebrated when, how, and how they should be prioritized in case of collision. He does not mention any individual texts of prayers, lections, pericopes or songs. This suggests that he focused on the broader picture in order to achieve a unified structure of worship throughout his archdiocese, rather than prescribing which elements should be taken up in each church. From the individual texts in the printed book, one can see that not much attention was paid to detail. In many cases such as Lent, there is not much textual coherence within the liturgical season, and texts are used repeatedly in order to save space. Reames, “Unexpected Texts for Saints,” 163 (on sanctorale lections in Sarum breviaries in print and on manuscript).

194 Marner degree of the archiepiscopal see at that time, but their reliability for the previous 500 years of Norwegian Christianity must be judged case by case.40 At the same time, Valkendorf’s prologue is a strong testimony for the prevailing liturgical plurality in the province of Nidaros, and this plurality is supported by any assessment of the Norwegian service books. 4

Service Books

In recent years, scholars have frequently commented upon the diversity found in medieval liturgical manuscripts and the difficulty to figure out what might be considered as a standard service. Andrew Hughes stated that there was no standard service in either part of the liturgy during the Middle Ages, but that a standardization spirit emanated from the papal court from the 13th century onwards, following upon and accelerated through the development of the mendicant orders.41 This standardization, however, was a gradual process. It seems, for instance, that the English secular clergy had not been affected by this process before the late 14th century.42 Neither did it equally pertain to all elements of the liturgy: It was mostly the ritual –​the order and sequence of the core feasts –​that was the main objective, while the standardization of textual plurality and additional celebrations was only achieved at the Council of Trent in the mid-​16th century and notably promoted by the invention of print for the mass production of identical liturgical books.43 There had been initiatives to standardize the Divine Office earlier; however, these are restricted to local communities and served political interests.44 The changing character of medieval liturgy suggests that the order and content of ritual celebration is closely tied to its exact time and place. Therefore,

40

Cf. Pfaff, Liturgy in Medieval England, 148. There was also a printed Breviarium Holense from the 16th century. As it is lost except for two leaves, it is difficult to estimate how the liturgy in this printed book compared to the liturgy laid out by the Breviarium Nidrosiense. Cf. Halldór Hermannsson, Icelandic books of the sixteenth century, and Guðbrandur Jónsson, “Síra Jón Matthíasson sænski.” 41 Hughes, Medieval Manuscripts, xxxvi. 42 Reames, “Late Medieval Efforts,” 94. 43 Hughes, Medieval Manuscripts, xxxvi–​xxxvii. 44 Sherry Reames has shown three initiatives to standardize the lections of the Sarum use in the early or mid-​15th century. However, she points out that the choice of lection texts in general seems to have been the result of a natural development and even a continuation of habits established before the adoption of the cathedral use. (Reames, “Late Medieval Efforts,” 92.)

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valid statements on the liturgy of a given place can only be made on the basis of the respective liturgical books.45 In addition, we must take into consideration developments over time, implying that the manuscript must be seen in its context of production and secondary provenance. This development can even result in rather drastic examples of discontinuity, the motivation behind which can be difficult, if not impossible to retrace in the surviving material. Some elements, such as a common stock of the calendar and the responsory series of the Divine Office, have been found to be more stable than others, and might therefore serve as a reliable means to identify medieval uses.46 However, the importance of the size of a liturgical sample has been stressed, since related liturgical uses are likely to have at least some elements in common, and since individual feasts might appear randomly in single calendars regardless of the use they are supposed to follow.47 This makes the identification of the uses in the province of Nidaros difficult, if not impossible, since we only have fragments of the medieval liturgical books besides the four fuller ordinals. In 2004, Gisela Attinger discussed the deviation from the on in liturgical manuscripts by the Icelandic scribe Jón Þorláksson in the second half of the 15th century.48 She interpreted the deviation as a hint towards local liturgical variance because of their systematic appearance, and thus was one of the first (to my knowledge) to acknowledge the existence of such. The full consequence of her findings is, however, not realized in her conclusion. Attinger points out the “difference between the liturgy in Iceland in the second half of the fifteenth century –​or at least the situation in which Jón Þorláksson worked –​on the one hand, and the official Nidaros liturgy, represented by the 13th-​century ordinal and the printed missal from the beginning of the 16th century, on the other.”49 We should not be surprised that Icelandic liturgical praxis in the second half of the 15th century should be different from a Norwegian liturgical abstract from more than 250 years earlier. Rather, our interest should be triggered by the fact that even Icelandic liturgical manuscripts differ from Icelandic ordinals from 45 Hughes, Medieval Manuscripts, xxxvii. 46 Salisbury, Secular Liturgical Office, 228–​29. 47 Ibid. 228. 48 “Apart from adding another handful of Icelandic manuscripts to Eggen’s list of sequence sources, the present investigation has touched upon a subject of interest for anyone working with the liturgy of Nidaros: the question of local variance. As indicated above, the manuscripts ascribed to Jón Þorláksson deviate from the Nidaros liturgy as laid down in the on and the mn [i.e. the Missale Nidrosiense], not necessarily only with respect to the sequences they contain, but also concerning the use of other mass chants as the discussion of [ms] Þjms 4126 showed”: Attinger, “Icelandic Medieval Manuscripts,” 136. 49 Ibid.

196 Marner a good century earlier. In the latter case, the gap in time and space is much smaller, so the differences should raise our awareness towards the limited validity or appliance of the witnesses to the on. Åslaug Ommundsen found that sequentiaries were mainly imported to Norway in the 12th century from a variety of other countries and therefore stand witness to liturgical plurality. From the 13th century onwards, she found sequentiaries to be local products, i.e. they were made specifically for use at a certain church. However, although some of these manuscripts were secundum ordinem in terms of having the same sequences as the on, there was still an even higher number that contained a different choice: The full missal and breviary-​missal in this chapter stand in contrast to the sequentiaries in the last chapter, in that they seem to strive towards following the ordinal. The minor differences, like the proper reading for the common, and the exclusion of some minor feasts, can be ascribed to a few generations of minor adjustments to the ordinal for practical use.50 We see here that liturgical books eventually tally better with the contents of the on, though divergences still occur. Given such a gradual convergence, it seems that there is no evidence to support a concerted distribution of on compliant sequentiaries from Nidaros.51 Among antiphoner fragments, Gjerløw found the same sources on either side of the assumed production date of the on and interpreted them as a natural consequence from Norway’s location.52 She claimed that the Nidaros liturgy made uniquely eclectic use of these sources across the Offices, encompassing secular and monastic traditions from neighboring dioceses.53 However, the mixture of sources that can be grasped in all aspects of the on is only a “mystery”54 if we expect them to go back to a single action, and a gradual organic growth over longer stretches of time tallies better with the traditions we are confronted with. Finally, Office lectionaries usually disagree with the nocturnal readings given in the on. This had already been noted by Gjerløw in the 1979 study of the Nidaros antiphoner, in which she stated a great diversity on the choice of

50 Ommundsen, “Books, Scribes and Sequences,” 1:211. 51 Ibid. 1:211. 52 Gjerløw, Antiphonarium Nidrosiensis Ecclesiae, 210. 53 Ibid. 219. 54 “The formation of the Nidaros antiphoner remains a mystery.” Ibid. 221.

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texts, regardless of whether the lectionaries pre-​or post-​dated the on.55 This might be caused by the notoriously unspecific prescription of lection texts in the ordinal. However, even for liturgical seasons such as Lent, where the on is very clear about which texts should be read, we find different choices of texts across Office lectionaries across the centuries and in all Norwegian dioceses.56 The on seems to have been of little or no relevance for the constitution of Office lectionaries, and there are no tendencies in the corpus that support the introduction of an ordinal in the province. Lections, antiphons, and sequences found in medieval Norwegian manuscripts show a significant degree of mismatch with the on. Therefore, we must not consider dissent with the on as an exception, but as a rule that might depend on diocesan or other institutional affiliation as well as it might fall into temporal or geographical clusters, into which we have but little insight right now.57 5

Conclusion

The ordinals gathered by Lilli Gjerløw and diplomatically edited as Ordo Nidrosiensis ecclesiae do not represent a uniform liturgy that was followed throughout the province of Nidaros, but rather bear witness to a liturgical diversity that followed partly the same liturgical prescriptions (such as certain feasts and their grade), partly drew on a shared stock of liturgical texts, but partly were also indebted to local decisions and variations building on a common core. 55

56

57

“There is, as one might except [sic], a great diversity between the early fragments of breviary-​lectionaries, and also between these and the lectionary found embedded in the Breviary.” Ibid. 271. “To judge from three lectionaries written in Norway in the course of the thirteenth century, the old diversity still prevailed.” Ibid. 273. In accordance with the on, some Office lectionaries contain lections from the Heptateuch (Lec-​Br 9 = Oslo, the National Archives of Norway (nra) Lat. fragm. 455,1–​33, Lec-​Br 11a = nra Lat. fragm. 706,1–​30, LecOff19 = nra Lat. fragm. 273,1–​16). Others give the pericope of the day followed by a corresponding homily (Lec-​Br 4 = nra Lat. fragm. 537,1–​46 etc., Lec-​Br 19 = nra Lat. fragm. 783,1–​2, LecOff20 = nra Lat. fragm. 361,1–​4). The choice of lection texts follows no discernible pattern, as both variants appear from the 12th to the 14th century and in lectionaries from the dioceses of Bergen and Oslo. There is another ordinal fragment in the Norwegian collection, nra Lat. fragm. 690 (1–​ 3). Its contents are rather different from what we find in the equivalent passages in on. However, since the provenance of the fragments cannot ultimately be verified (they could still have been imported to Norway in early modern times), they are not considered further in this article.

198 Marner Given the manuscript transmission of ordinals within the province, the liturgies preserved in them can with certainty only be connected to Iceland, and more precisely to the see of Skálholt. Although Gjerløw mapped out general tendencies within each of the manuscripts, recent findings for Medieval England suggest that the preserved ordinals need to be examined more minutely, with special attention to the most stable elements, i.e. the responsory series of the Divine Office and the distinctive celebrations of the calendar. Only after such an examination would it make sense to review Gjerløw’s grouping into longer (group A /​ ms A) and shorter versions (group B /​ mss B, D). Special attention should be paid to ms C with its composite nature, especially since Gjerløw neglected it for most of her edition. The manuscript fragments, it seems, are of such unfortunate shortness and accidental coverage that they cannot be conclusively attributed to either of these groups. Attention might also be drawn to the mise-​en-​page of the ordinal manuscripts themselves and their paleographic profile.58 Finally, the Icelandic and Norwegian liturgical books for Mass and Office should be carefully examined and compared to the ordinals. For the time being, Gjerløw’s edition represents a useful tool, as it makes the ordinal texts partly accessible. It is important to bear in mind, though, that the on does not stand out as a norm, with which we can expect liturgical books or fragments to comply. Accordance with either of these may confirm the tradition which that particular manuscript follows. However, it cannot serve to determine the origin of that manuscript, and even more importantly, it cannot be used as an argument to support the dating or provenance of a liturgical book.

58

The Icelandic ordinal manuscripts do not employ visual aids to distinguish between rubrics and text clues. Their text is written down in one go using the same black or brown ink throughout, except for occasional headings for feasts and/​or the hours. In both Norwegian fragments, on the other hand, rubrics are clearly set apart from the incipits through the use of red ink (ms Na). The Norwegian ordinals therefore become much easier to navigate. To my knowledge, the use of colour to mark out rubrics is common in Swedish, English and continental ordinals as well. Apparently, there existed local conventions in how this liturgical book type should be laid out –​regardless of whether or not the ordinals contain essentially similar or even the same text. However, this observation cannot be transferred to other liturgical book types, as most Icelandic graduals, antiphoners and missals do employ red ink, especially for the staves that accommodate musical notation, for instance Copenhagen, the Arnamagnæan Collection Accessoria 7 mss 7 and 32. In Icelandic breviaries such as am Acc. 7 ms 69, red ink is the standard choice for staves. Instructional rubrics and genre labels may come in red as well, though not quite as often as the staves. Cf. Andersen, Katalog, 21, 41 and 68.

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Gjerløw’s idea of a fixed written liturgical tradition and the faithfulness of the earliest printed books must be seen in light of the scholarly tradition she comes from, which treated liturgical books in the same way as literary texts approachable via textual criticism. It was only natural for her to assume liturgical continuity and uniformity within the province of Nidaros. This presumption significantly shaped her methodology when working with the Norwegian manuscript fragments, as she continuously checked every reconstructed liturgical book against the on, the Breviarium Nidrosiense and the affiliated Missale Nidrosiense. Her methods have –​sometimes in a refined form –​been employed by the majority of scholars working subsequently on these fragments, which means that scholarship in this field uses working methods based on the state of the art in liturgical research from the 1960s. The most significant concept in this regard is probably the on divide, the presumption that Norwegian and Icelandic liturgical books fall into two categories: those pre-​dating the on, and those post-​dating it. A book written after c.1220 would therefore automatically be seen as one that should be secundum ordinem. With a revised understanding of ordinals in the province of Nidaros, the obvious gap between this theory and liturgical reality as preserved in manuscript fragments becomes easier to understand while being a good starting point for further research. We must update our idea of medieval liturgical history in Norway and Iceland and revise our methods in dealing accordingly with this highly fragmented, neither locally nor chronologically appointed corpus. Eventually, we will have to map out the whole corpus based on paleographical evidence and archival provenance of the fragments before we will be fully able to appreciate the role that the surviving ordinals played in the province of Nidaros throughout the Middle Ages.

Bibliography



Manuscripts and Archival Sources

Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am 678 4to Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am 680a 4to Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am 791 4to Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am Acc. 7 ms 32 Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am Acc. 7 ms 69 Copenhagen, The Arnamagnæan Collection, am Acc. 7 MS 7 Copenhagen, The Royal Library, gks 3273 4to Oslo, The National Archives of Norway, Lat. fragm. 140b Oslo, The National Archives of Norway, Lat. fragm. 273 (1–​16)

200 Marner Oslo, The National Archives of Norway, Lat. fragm. 455 (1–​33) Oslo, The National Archives of Norway, Lat. fragm. 537 (1–​46) Oslo, The National Archives of Norway, Lat. fragm. 690 (1–​3) Oslo, The National Archives of Norway, Lat. fragm. 706 (1–​30) Oslo, The National Archives of Norway, Lat. fragm. 783 (1–​2) Oslo, The National Archives of Norway, Lat. fragm. 361 (1–​4) Reykjavik, The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies, am 227 fol. Reykjavik, The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies, am 679 4to Reykjavik, The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies, gks 1812 4to Stockholm, The National Library of Sweden, Isl. Perg. 4:o no. 36 V Stockholm, The National Library of Sweden, Isl. Perg. 4:o no. 5 (fly leaf) Stockholm, The National Library of Sweden, Isl. Perg. 8:o no. 5 (binding)



Primary Sources



Secondary Sources

Breuiaria ad vsum ritumque sacrosancte Nidrosiensis ecclesie. Paris: Jean Kerbriant & Jean Bienayse, 1519. Diplomatarium Islandicum: Íslenzkt fornbréfasafn, sem hefir inni aðhalda bréf og gjörninga, dóma og máldaga, og aðrar skrár er snerta Ísland eða íslenzka menn. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Jón Þorkelsson, Páll Eggert Ólason, and Björn Þorsteinsson. 16 vols. Copenhagen and Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1857−1972. Diplomatarium Norvegicum: Oldbreve til kundskab om Norges indre og ydre forhold, sprog, slægter, sæder, lovgivning og rettergang i middelalderen. Edited by Christian C. A. Lange, Carl R. Unger, H. J. Huitfeldt-​Kaas, Gustav Storm, Ferdinand Linthoe Næshagen, and Tor Ulset. 23 vols. Christiania/​Oslo: Kommisjonen for Diplomatarium Norvegicum, Norsk historisk kjeldeskrift-​institutt, Riksarkivet, 1847‒2011. Gjerløw, Lilli, ed. Antiphonarium Nidrosiensis Ecclesiae. Libri Liturgici Provinciae Nidrosiensis Medii Aevi 3. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1979. Ordo Nidrosiensis ecclesiae: Orðubók. Edited by Lilli Gjerløw. Libri Liturgici Provinciae Nidrosiensis Medii Aevi 2. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1968.

Andersen, Merete Geert. Katalog over AM Accessoria 7: De latinske fragmenter. Bibliotheca Arnamagnæana xlvi. Copenhagen: C. A. Reitzels forlag, 2008. Attinger, Gisela. “Icelandic Medieval Manuscripts Containing Sequences.” Studia Musicologica Norvegica 30 (2004): 119–​43. Gjerløw, Lilli. Introduction to Ordo Nidrosiensis Ecclesiae: Orðubók, edited by Lilli Gjerløw, 29–​ 128. Libri Liturgici Provinciae Nidrosiensis Medii Aevi 2. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1968. Guðbrandur Jónsson. “Síra Jón Matthíasson sænski, Prentsmiðja hans á Breiðabólstað og Breviarium Holense.” Árbók Landsbókasafns Íslands 7–​8 (1950–​1951): 177–​87.

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Haki Antonsson. St Magnús of Orkney: A Scandinavian Martyr-​Cult in Context. The Northern World 29. Leiden–​Boston: Brill, 2007. Halldór Hermannsson. Icelandic Books of the Sixteenth Century (1534–​1600). Islandica 9. Ithaca: Cornell, 1916. Hughes, Andrew. Medieval Manuscripts for Mass and Office: A Guide to their Organization and Terminology. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1982. Lohse, Tillmann. “Der Liber Ordinarius als ‘unfester Text’: Drei editorische Maximen.” In Editionswissenschaftliches Kolloquium 2011: Quellen kirchlicher Provenienz. Neue Editionsvorhaben und aktuelle EDV-​Projekte, edited by Helmut Flachenecker and Janusz Tandecki, 125–​44. Publikationen des Deutsch-​Polnischen Gesprächskreises für Quellenedition 6. Toruń: Wydawnictwo Naukowe Uniwersytetu Mikołaja Kopernika w Toruniu, 2011. Lohse, Tillmann. “Stand und Perspektiven der Liber ordinarius-​Forschung.” Liturgie in mittelalterlichen Frauenstiften: Forschungen zum Liber Ordinarius, edited by Klaus Gereon Beuckers, 215–​56. Essener Forschungen zum Frauenstift 10. Essen: Klartext Verlag, 2012. Macquarrie, Alan. “Scottish Saints’ Legends in the Aberdeen Breviary.” In The Cult of Saints and the Virgin Mary in Medieval Scotland, edited by Steve Boardman and Eila Williamson, 143–​58. Studies in Celtic History. Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2010. Morgan, Nigel. “The Sanctorals of Early Sarum Missals and Breviaries, c.1250 –​ c.1350.” In The Study of Medieval Manuscripts of England: Festschrift in Honor of Richard W. Pfaff, edited by George Hardin Brown and Linda Ehrsam Voigts, 143–​62. Arizona Studies in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance 35. Turnhout: Brepols, 2010. Ommundsen, Åslaug. “Books, Scribes and Sequences in Medieval Norway.” PhD diss., University of Bergen, 2007. Pettersen, Gunnar I. “From Parchment Books to Fragments: Norwegian Medieval Codices Before and After the Reformation.” In Latin Manuscripts of Medieval Norway: Studies in Memory of Lilli Gjerløw, edited by Espen Karlsen, 41–​66. Nota Bene –​Studies from the National Library of Norway 5. Oslo: Novus Press, 2013. Pfaff, Richard W. The Liturgy in Medieval England: A History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2009. Reames, Sherry L. “Late Medieval Efforts at Standardization and Reform in the Sarum Lessons for Saints’ Days.” In Design and Distribution of Late Medieval Manuscripts in England, edited by Margaret Connolly and Linne R. Mooney, 91–​117. Manuscript Culture in the British Isles. Woodbridge: York Medieval Press, 2008. Reames, Sherry L. “Mouvance and Interpretation in Late-​medieval Latin: The Legend of St. Cecilia in British Breviaries.” In Medieval Literature: Texts and Interpretation, edited by Tim William Machan, 159–​89. Medieval & Renaissance Texts & Studies 79. Binghamton: Medieval & Renaissance Texts & Studies, 1991.

202 Marner Reames, Sherry L. “Unexpected Texts for Saints in Some Sarum Breviary Manuscripts.” In The Study of Medieval Manuscripts of England: Festschrift in Honor of Richard W. Pfaff, edited by George Hardin Brown and Linda Ehrsam Voigts, 163–​84. Arizona Studies in the Middle Ages and Renaissance 35. Turnhout: Brepols, 2010. Salisbury, Matthew Cheung. The Secular Liturgical Office in Late Medieval England. Medieval Church Studies 36. Turnhout: Brepols, 2015.

chapter 9

Some Reflections on the Liturgy for St Þorlákr Gisela Attinger Þorlákr Þórhallsson, bishop of Skálholt from 1178 until his death in 1193, became one of Iceland’s most popular saints during the Middle Ages. Both the Natale (December 23, the day of his death) and the Translatio (July 20, the day when his relics were translated to Skálholt Cathedral in 1198) were included in the liturgy of the Icelandic church.1 The cult of St Þorlákr in Iceland is documented in calendars, church dedications, and manuscripts containing descriptions of his life and miracles. In addition, we have evidence from images and sculptures, and last but not least there are a few liturgical books that contain Latin songs for the celebration of his feast days. Unfortunately, most of the books used in the churches of Iceland before the Reformation have been lost. The present study tries to show that the remaining manuscripts do not transmit a unified tradition but are witnesses that different texts and melodies seem to have been used for the veneration of St Þorlákr.2 1

Þorlákstíðir –​A Proper Office for St Þorlákr

The most substantial liturgy for Þorlákr that has survived is a rhymed Office, known as Þorlákstíðir. A rhymed Office includes the chants for the daily services to be celebrated in honor of a saint or other feast day in addition to the Mass: antiphons, responsories and hymns. They accompany the psalms and the reading of texts from the saint’s life. Less important saints often did not have their own songs but used items that were common for other saints of the same category, for instance martyrs or apostles. This applies also to newly 1 On the establishment of Þorlákr’s cult see Gottskálk Jensson, “Latin Hagiography in Medieval Iceland,” esp. 902–​29. 2 Róbert Abraham Ottósson gives an overview of some of the written documents concerning the liturgy of St Þorlákr in his Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia rhytmica et proprium missæ in AM 241 a folio, 68ff. Most of them are presented more thoroughly in Lilli Gjerløw’s chapter, “A Note on the St Thorlak Liturgy,” in her Liturgica Islandica 1: Text, 69ff. The present article has taken these two studies as a starting point. I am very grateful to Astrid Marner and Gottskálk Jensson for reading a draft version of this paper and providing me with helpful comments and corrections. The remaining flaws are my responsibility alone.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_011

204 Attinger established saints’ feasts, and it is likely that St Þorlákr was celebrated with chants for a bishop and confessor during the first years after he had been declared a saint, since these chants were easily available. Þorlákstíðir has survived in a manuscript with the shelf mark am 241 a ii fol. and was thoroughly studied and published in 1959 by Róbert Abraham Ottósson.3 Stefán Karlsson identified the scribe of the Office as being the same person who wrote the main part of the lawbook Skálholtsbók yngri (am 354 fol.), and suggested that the scribe wrote the manuscript containing the Office during the decade around 1400.4 am 241 a ii fol. itself is known to have belonged to Skálholt because of a marginal addition on one of the pages: “This book belongs to the church of Skálholt and to no other. Anno 1597. Ólafur son of Árni.”5 Whereas the texts seem to be newly composed, Ottósson’s comparison of the melodies showed that all but two of them have Dominican models, mainly from the Offices for St Dominic, the founder of the Dominican order, and St Peter Martyr. Some of the chants are modelled on the Office for a third Dominican saint, Thomas of Aquino, which was not ready before 1334.6 For that reason Þorlákstíðir –​if written in its entirety at the same time –​could not have been compiled before the second third of the 14th century. Ottósson draws a connection to the influence of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (d. 1339), the first bishop in Iceland who was a friar of the Dominican order, and suggests a possible author for the work in his surroundings: Arngrímr Brandsson, priest of Oddi and later abbot of Þingeyraklaustur, who was sent to the archbishop’s seat in Trondheim in 1327 to represent Jón’s view on certain Icelandic ecclesiastical matters. He was a well-​educated man and interested in music, and he is said to have used the stay in Norway to learn how to play and build an organ, instead of pursuing the task he was given by his bishop. Towards the end of his life he made a vow to join the Dominican brethren in Bergen and had probably intimate knowledge of the liturgy on which the Þorlákr’s Office is modelled. Whether he actually compiled the Office, however, cannot be confirmed from the sources available to us.7 3 Róbert A. Ottósson, Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia. The manuscript is now kept at the Árni Magnússon Institute in Reykjavik. 4 Stefán Karlsson, “Þorlákstíðir í Skálholti.” 5 Translated from Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 35. Róbert A. Ottósson also refers to a note by Árni Magnússon, the former owner of the manuscript, saying that the manuscript belonged to Skálholt Cathedral. Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 34, footnote 8. 6 Cf. Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 71, footnote 26. 7 For a discussion of the possibility of Arngrímr being the author of Þorlákstíðir see Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 71–​74, and the chapter by Gunnar Harðarson in the present volume.

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Þorlákr being a popular saint of Iceland, especially in the diocese of Skálholt, one might expect that an Office written especially for his celebration would be spread and used all over the country and leave traces in written documents from the 14th century until the reformation. However, neither the Office, nor parts from it, have shown up in other manuscripts so far. Is the reason for this the fact that most of the liturgical books from Medieval Iceland have not survived up to our times? The dedicated Icelandic manuscript collector Árni Magnússon (1663–​1739) was not only interested in documents containing Danish and Norwegian matters but also kept or copied texts related to Iceland. But even among the manuscripts of his collection (which includes am 241 a ii fol.) there are no other witnesses to the Office.8 The Icelandic ordinal manuscripts from the end of the 13th and the 14th centuries9 do not mention the feasts for Þorlákr at all, not even in marginal additions, which seems surprising assuming that they were used in Iceland and thus would reflect local practice. If they represent a general use of Nidaros on the other hand –​after all, the Icelandic bishoprics of Skálholt and Hólar were part of the archbishopric of Nidaros from its founding around the middle of the 12th century until the reformation –​the omission of Þorlákr might be explained more easily: a local saint would not necessarily be included. On the other hand, we find the feast of Jón of Hólar added in the margin in two of the manuscripts by late medieval hands. Gjerløw argued that the incipits of a complete Office for Þorlákr “would not easily fit into marginal space.”10 The feast for the Translation has fewer proper items, but all but one of the ordinal manuscripts have lacunae in this part of the Sanctorale,11 i.e. if any liturgical instructions were given for this feast they have been lost. Ottósson points out that Þorlákr is mentioned in am 680 b 4to, an ordinal fragment from the 15th century consisting of seven leaves.12 The main part contains the Advent Liturgy rules as found in the printed Nidaros breviary.13 Here Þorlákr appears in connection with his December feast which falls within the 8

Part of his collection was destroyed when his house burned down in the Copenhagen fire of 1728, but most of the manuscripts were saved, i.e. the likeliness of a manuscript containing the Office being lost in the fire is rather small but cannot be ruled out. 9 For an edition see Gjerløw, Ordo Nidrosiensis ecclesiae. Astrid Marner (in this volume) offers a new perspective on the role these manuscripts should be given within the archdiocese of Nidaros. 10 Gjerløw, Ordo Nidrosiensis ecclesiae, 79. 11 Sanctorale: section of a liturgical book for the celebration of particular saints’ feasts. 12 Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 70. Gjerløw characterised am 680 b 4to as being a Skálholt manuscript. Ordo Nidrosiensis ecclesiae, 60. 13 Breuiaria ad usum ritumque sacrosancte Nidrosiensis ecclesie (Paris, 1519).

206 Attinger

­f igure 9.1 First page of the proper office of St Þorlákr, Reykjavík, Árni Magnússon Institute, am 241 a ii fol. (reduced). For images of the whole manuscript see the website https://​www.ismus.is/​. The office has been recorded by Voces Thules in 2006

Some Reflections on the Liturgy for St Þorlákr

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period of Advent. In addition the following instruction can be found in the section listing the feasts for which singing of the Credo was required: “Illis diebus Credo in unum deum cantatur … Omnium sanctorum patroni libet ecclesie sicut est in utroque festo sancti torlaci in ecclesia scaleotensi,” i.e. the Credo should be sung at Skálholt on both feast days of Þorlákr, presumably the Natale in December and the Translation in July. Two of the ordinal manuscripts include copies of a letter from Bishop Jón Krabbi Stefánsson (originally written in 1464).14 Here the bishop refers to a well-​ established cult of Þorlákr at Skálholt Cathedral which he found missing in the ordinal he examined. He might have the proper Office in mind, but we do not know. The compiler of a church inventory15 from 1472 probably refers to a copy of the Office when he listed “Þorlaks historia” among the liturgical books possessed by Síðumúli church (Hvítársiða).16 Two more inventories mention songs in honor of St Þorlákr: þorlakz-​sonngur (Garðar church, Akranes; 1352),17 and Þollaks song oc les med (Hof church, Hvolhreppur; 1397).18 Of these, perhaps the latter can point to a complete Office with songs and readings. Margaret Cormack points to another possible reference to an Office for Þorlákr in a church inventory: Þollaks sögu med Legendu (Hólmur church, Rosmhvalanes; 1397).19 She argues that this “conceivably [could] be a copy of the saga accompanied by a Latin Vita, but one might expect such a volume to be described as ‘Þorláks saga in Norse and Latin’ or the equivalent” and suggests that ‘sögu’ is a misreading of ‘söngr.’20 “Songs for Þorlákr with a legend” could come close to a description of an Office. However, according to the printed edition this text actually reads “forna þollaks sögu med Legendu” (my italics), i.e. it refers to an old Þorlákr´s saga. The proper Office from am 241 a ii fol. could not have been more than some 60 years old in 1397. If ‘sögu’ should be read as ‘söngr’ it would probably refer to songs older that the Office since they are characterized as being old, presumably in contrast to newer ones.

14 15

Diplomatarium Islandicum (hereinafter di) 5:411–​12. The Icelandic church inventories (máldagar) are a rich source for knowledge about the possessions of the churches during the Middle Ages. 16 di, 5:675. Historia is a term commonly used for an Office. Róbert Abraham Ottósson points to the use of this term in Nicholás saga. Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 70. Another example appears in the church inventory of Garðar church (Akranes; 1352): “hystoria de corpore christe” (di, 4:69). 17 di, 3:68–​69. 18 di, 4:84. 19 di, 4:105. 20 Cormack, The Saints in Iceland, 160, footnote 461.

208 Attinger Based on the church inventories investigated by Cormack, Þorlákr seems to have been one of the most popular saints in Iceland by the end of the 14th century:21 18 churches (including half-​churches) are dedicated to Þorlákr, while 33 have him as a co-​patron. In addition, he is the co-​patron of two altars, and 34 churches are reported to have had images of him. They certainly had songs and texts to venerate him, too. That there are so few inventories that mention chants or readings in his honor can be explained by the fact that such material usually would be have been included in other books: graduals and antiphonals for the Mass and Office chants, and missals and breviaries for the prayers and readings. Exactly which songs and texts they included can only be decided from studying the surviving extant manuscripts. The proper Office for St Þorlákr in am 241 a ii fol. is one of them, but not the only one. 2

Other Office Chants for St Þorlákr

Among the fragment collection Accessoria 7 of the Arnamagnæan Institute in Copenhagen, which consists mainly of single leaves from liturgical manuscripts that have been used for binding Árni Magnússon’s books, there are 10 leaves from an Icelandic manuscript containing chants for parts of feasts from December to January (am Acc. 7 hs 34). It was published for the first time by Lilli Gjerløw in 1979.22 The verso side of folio (5) contains the December feast for St Þorlákr. Árni Magnússon must have missed that the manuscript also contained liturgy for an Icelandic saint, otherwise he would probably have kept –​or at least copied –​the page instead of using it as wrapper for one of his other books. hs 34 consists of leaves from the Sanctorale part of an antiphoner, i.e. a book containing the Office chants for saints’ feasts. The preserved sequence of feasts and chants more or less agrees with the Icelandic ordinal manuscripts except for the Conception of St Mary on December 8 when the Marian Office beginning with Stella maria maris is prescribed instead of Fulget dies hodierna.23

21 Cormack, The Saints in Iceland, fig. 2 on p. 29. 22 Gjerløw, Antiphonarium Nidrosiensis ecclesiae, 256–​57, plate 78. Merete Geert Andersen added two more leaves to the codex that Gjerløw had identified, see Geert Andersen, Katalog, 43–​44. Images of all the folios can be found on the cd accompanying Geert Andersen’s catalogue. 23 Gjerløw points out that in Scandinavia Stella maria maris is usually used as the Saturday Office for St Mary, and characterizes the present position as “highly exceptional,” Gjerløw, Antiphonarium, 256.

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­f igure 9.2 Detail from Arnamagnaean Institute, Copenhagen University, am Acc. 7 hs 34 fol. (10)v. Note the use of capital H (traHen[tem]) in the last word of the last line. Twin notes appear in several place, see for instance on the second line (Intellexit). Images of all the folios can be found in Merete Geert Andersen, Katalog over AM Accessoria 7. De latinske fragmenter (Copenhagen: Reitzel, 2008) and on the website http://​digitalesamlinger.hum.ku.dk/​Home/​Samlingerne/​13222

Hs 34 has been dated to the first half of the 15th century24 which would mean that it is either contemporary to or somewhat later than am 241 a ii fol. In any case, is it written after the proper Office for St Þorlákr was compiled, and one would perhaps expect the scribe of am Acc. 7 hs 34 to have known about its existence. hs 34, however, only provides two gospel antiphons for the feast, not a complete Office, and none of the chants are taken from the Office in am 241 a ii fol. We do not know anything of the primary provenance of the manuscript and can only assume that Árni Magnússon got hold of it in Iceland. Some of the paleographical features are characteristic for Icelandic scribes writing in Latin in any case: capital H appears frequently in places where lower-​case h is normally used, and the scribe uses ‘twin’ notes.25

24 Gjerløw, Antiphonarium, 256. 25 Twin notes are notes where two (or even more) square note heads of the same pitch are written so closely together that they in part overlap and appear as one longer note head, usually with separate stems. This type of notational sign was also used by the scribe(s) of am 241a ii fol. (cf. Fig.9.1). For more information on Latin paleography in Iceland, see Ommundsen and Attinger, “Icelandic liturgical books and how to recognise them,” plates 31–​42.

210 Attinger

­f igure 9.3  Detail from Arnamagnaean Institute, Copenhagen University, am 733 4to fol. 3v. For images of the whole calendar see the website Handrit.org

The manuscript has the same type of pen-​drawn initials as am 241 a ii fol.26 Unfortunately, the page containing the liturgy for St Þorlákr is damaged and difficult to read, even when consulting the original, but Gjerløw recognized the text of one of the chants as being identical to a verse on a piece of parchment glued onto the last page of a liturgical calendar, also from the am-​collection in Copenhagen (am 733 4to):27 O thorlace presul islandie decor orbis et pater patrie tutor regni regis noruegie perpes ciuis celestis curie fac nos tue consortes glorie The calendar came into Árni Magnússon’s possession as part of a composite manuscript (am 322 fol.).28 The Latin verse is added to the December page of the calendar, and it is therefore natural to see it in connection with the feast of Þorlákr on December 23, i.e. the same feast as in am Acc. 7 hs 34.29 26

This type of initials appears in more of the Icelandic manuscripts; a closer study of them might throw more light on their date and provenance. 27 Gjerløw, Antiphonarium, 257. 28 In his description of am 322 fol. Gustav Storm stated that the Latin verse and am 114a 4to, a text associated with King Sverrir (“A speech against the bishop”, originally also part of am 322 fol.), were written by the same person, namely the clerk Ívar Auðunsson. Norges gamle Love, ed. Keyser et al., vol. 4, iii–​i v:508–​9. Eivind Vågslid identified the scribe of am 114a 4to as Páll Styrkársson, another Norwegian clerk active in the first half of the 14th century. Vågslid, Norske logmannsbrev frå millomalderen, 16–​17. As far as I can see Vågslid does not confirm that the verse in am 733 4to is written by Páll Styrkársson. This information can be found in Gjerløw’s description of the calendar in Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder. Gjerløw, “Kalendarium II,” esp. 105. 29 The entrance of the feast of Þorlákr (“Thorlaci. confessoris”) is a later addition to the calendar. It looks as if the strip of parchment containing the verse has been cut from the missing bottom margin of the page following the calendar: it contains three red lines which fit with the flourish of the initial i in the second column.

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Except for the name, this verse is almost identical with an antiphon for St Jón of Hólar:30 O Johannes præsul Islandiæ, decor orbis et pater patriæ, tutor regni regis Norvegiæ, jam concivis cælestis curiæ, fac nos tuæ consortes gloriæ. This is part of a short Office for St Jón containing a prayer, three lessons, and the gospel antiphons for first vespers, lauds, and second vespers. The original manuscript has not survived, we know about it only through a copy made by Árni Magnússon, but it seems to have come from the Northern part of Iceland.31 Unfortunately, Árni Magnússon only copied the text, not the melodies. It is therefore not possible to say whether the two songs shared the melody or were set to different music. In any case they do not have the same liturgical position: In the Office for St Jón it is used as gospel antiphon at lauds, in hs 34 it is followed by the incipit Magn[ificat], i.e. it was meant to be used for vespers. Whereas the feast for St Jón has been provided with three proper antiphons, hs 34 contains only two chants for St Þorlákr. The second chant for Þorlákr in hs 34 has yet to be identified. It has the same opening as the first antiphon: “O thorlace presul” but continues differently.32 If the two chants were intended for first and second vespers, was the gospel antiphon for lauds taken from the pool of chants from the Common of the Saints? Or did the church who owned hs 34 have an additional source for the liturgy for the December feast for St Þorlákr which would be consulted in addition to hs 34? Gjerløw connects am 733 4to to St Mary’s church in Oslo since the scribe who added the Latin verse for St Þorlákr was a clerk of the chancery of St Mary.33 He is known to have been active in the second quarter of the 14th century which means that the Norwegian source for the verse predates the Icelandic one. Whether it also is older than the source for the more or less identical verse for 30 31

32 33

am 241 b fol. ix. Taken from Jón Þorkelsson, Om Digtningen på Island, 24. The author points out the likeness to the verse for Þorlákr. “AM. 241B. Fol. IX með hendi Árna Magnússonar eptir messubók úr Eyjafirði ekki allfornri.” Íslenzkar ártíðaskrár, ed. Jón Þorkelsson, 76–​77. “Frá einkverri kirkju i Vaðlaþingi, ásamt öðrum 4 smáblöðum úr sama Vaðlaþingi og einni ónytri latínskri söngbók þaðan i folio, er jeg í sum[ar] úr tekið hefi.” Bjarni Þorsteinsson, Íslenzk þjóðlög, 125. The poor state of the fragment makes it difficult to identify the text. Gjerløw reads the end as “(m)aiori cum gloria laudis domus? in secula.” Gjerløw, Antiphonarium, 257. See footnote 28.

212 Attinger St Jón is unknown since we do not know anything about the date of the original manuscript that Árni Magnússon copied. But the cult of Þorlákr and Jón never gained any prominent position in Norway, and it is therefore more likely that the verse originated in Iceland and found its way from there to Norway than the other way around. Whichever direction it travelled, it represents a different tradition for celebrating St Þorlákr than the Office found in am 241 a ii fol., a tradition where proper items were limited to gospel antiphons. 3

Mass Chants for Þorlákr

am 241 a ii fol. not only contains the rhymed Office for Þorlákr but also two proper chants for a Mass: an Alleluia with the verse O preco verbi, and part of a sequence beginning In superna ierarchia. Due to a lacuna in the manuscript (one leaf is missing) the latter is not complete but breaks off in the second half of the fourth double-​ verse. Ottósson pointed out that both the Alleluia with its verse and the sequence are modelled on the Alleluia and sequence from the Mass for St Dominic: Alleluia. Pie pater dominice34 and In celesti hierarchia.35 These are the only items provided for Mass in am 241 a ii fol. The remaining chants for the proper of the Mass were most likely taken from the Mass for a confessor and bishop, as in the printed Nidaros missal where the introitus Stauit ei, the gradual Ecce sacerdos, the offertory Veritas mea, and the communion Beatus servus are prescribed.36 It looks as if these chants were used in Iceland, too, at least as far as the latter two are concerned: the offertory Veritas mea and the communion Beatus servus. They are given as incipits without music notation in a fragment from an Icelandic noted missal from the late 15th century (nks 1265 ii a fol.), a leaf from the so-​called Missale Scardense37 which was written by the scribe Jón Þorláksson and contains part of a Mass for St Þorlákr, beginning incompletely in a sequence. This is not the same sequence as found in am 241 a ii fol., and so far it has not been identified in other sources. Ottósson pointed out that the rhyme and rhythm of the text party follow the scheme of the sequence In superna ierarchia of am 241 a ii fol., but that the melody of the 7th modus is not related.38 Gjerløw places the text at Skáltholt: “The sequence, with its 34 35 36 37 38

Alleluia-​Melodien II, ed. Schager, 399 and 750f. Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 56f. The knowledge of the length of the melody for the sequence makes it possible to reconstruct how much of the manuscript has been lost. Missale pro usu totius regni Norvegie (Copenhagen, 1519), hxxi. verso. The Alleluia verse in Missale pro usu totius regni Norvegie is “Sacerdos magnus.” No sequence is provided. am Acc. 7 hs 1 (cf. Geert Andersen, Katalog). Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 71.

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emphasis on the agmina uexatorum, flocking to the Saint’s limina, must have been written for Skálholt Cathedral.”39 This would give us two sequences connected to Skálholt, one being found in a manuscript that probably was written at and kept at the cathedral, and one related to it by its textual content. Since the Þorlákr Mass in nks 1265 ii a fol. is followed by prayers and chant incipits for Felix (January 14) and Maurus (January 15) it is obvious that it is the Mass for the December feast, not for the Translation in July. Was the 14th-​century sequence replaced by a new one in the 15th century, or did the two live side by side, the presumably older one perhaps being moved to the Mass for the Translation? Unfortunately, the Alleluia and its verse belonging to the Mass provided in nks 1265 ii a fol. has been lost, i.e. we do not know whether this was the same chant as the one in am 241 a ii fol. or a different one. That more than one Alleluia and verse for Þorlákr were used in Iceland, however, is shown by another fragmentary manuscript which contains a collection of Alleluias for St Peter, St Óláfr, St Cecily, St Clement, and St Þorlákr (am 241 b i d fol.). The Alleluia Sancto Thollaco episcopo has the verse “Ecce sacerdos magnus qui quasi sol refulgens sic effulsit in templo dei”. This is the verse for a confessor.40 am 241 b i d fol. is a page from an early manuscript, dated to the 13th century41 and it is no surprise that it contains an Alleluia with a verse from the Common of the Saints. Whether it continued to be used for the celebration for Þorlákr throughout the Middle Ages or was replaced by a proper chant as in am 241 a ii fol cannot be decided due to the lack of sources. Regarding the ordinary chants for the Mass42 the choice of melodies probably could vary from church to church. We do, however, have the incipit of a Kyrie for the Translation of Þorlákr in the so-​called Graduale Gufudalense, written by the same scribe who wrote the missal containing the fragmentary sequence for Þorlákr.43 That the Credo was to be sung at Skálholt in both feasts for Þorlákr has been mentioned above. Which melody was to be used, on the other hand, we do not know.

39 Gjerløw, Liturgica Islandica 1, 70. I am grateful to Gottskálk Jensson for confirming the textual association to Skálholt. 40 See Alleluia-​Melodien, ed. Schlager, 153 and 629f. 41 Reiss, Musiken ved den middelalderlige Olavsdyrkelse, 66. Åslaug Ommundsen dates it more precisely to the first half/​middle of the century (personal communication). 42 These are the Mass chants with the same text for each Mass: Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei. The melodies could vary from Mass to Mass. 43 The fragment containing the Kyrie is part of am Acc. 7 hs 2 (see Geert Andersen, Katalog, 9–​15).

214 Attinger 4

am 241 a ii fol. Revisited

Let us go back to the manuscript containing the complete Office for St Þorlákr. It has been described as belonging to the Sanctorale part of an antiphoner,44 but a closer look reveals that the manuscript cannot have been part of a regular antiphoner. It consists of 12 leaves with the following contents: 1) Five vesper antiphons for St Peter, including psalm incipits (fol. (1)r). 2) A complete Office, some Mass chants (Alleluia w/​verse and beginning of a sequence), followed by more Office chants for St Þorlákr (fol. (1)v–​(11), with lacuna). 3) The beginning of an Office for the Crown of Thorns (fol. (12)), including readings. The sequence of the feasts is peculiar: there is no feast of St Peter immediately preceding the feast day for St Þorlákr, and the feast for the Crown of Thorns was not celebrated in December, either. am 241 a ii fol. must have been some type of liturgical book other than an antiphoner containing the saints’ feasts in liturgical order. The manuscript was never finished before it was put to use, most of the initials and rubrics are missing. Even the initial A for the first antiphons of first vespers for the December Office of St Þorlákr remained unfinished: the outlines are painted with green color but the area within was never filled in (see Fig. 9.1). The missing rubrics make it difficult to determine the exact liturgical position for some of the items: after the Mass chants following the Office for Þorlákr more Office chants are provided, the liturgical function of which is not completely clear. Ottósson convincingly argues that most of them belong to a second Office for Þorlákr, for the feast of the Translation (July 20). In a standard antiphoner these chants would appear in a later part of the book, and Mass chants would be collected in a gradual or missal. The leaf containing the beginning of an Office for the feast of the Crown of Thorns is clearly written by the same scribe who wrote the Þorlákr’s Office.45 It is damaged, and the Office breaks off in the first responsory of matins. Here, too, initials and rubrics are missing. In addition to the chants two texts without music are provided: a prayer for first vespers46 and the first lesson of 44 45 46

Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 35; Gjerløw, Liturgica Islandica, 1:94. The only difference are the staves of the musical notation: they are drawn with red ink on the pages that have chants for Þorlákr, otherwise black ink is used. [P]‌resta quesumus omnipotens deus ut qui in memoriam passionis domini nostri jesu christi coronam ejus spinea[m] veneramur in terris. ab ipso gloria et honore corona[ri] mereamur in celis. qui tecum vivit [et regnat] (my transcription; abbreviations are

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matins.47 These are items that we usually find in breviaries or lectionaries, not in antiphoners. The occurrence of five vesper antiphons for St Peter on the page preceeding Þorlákr’s Office is puzzling. First of all, they seem not to be written by the same scribe as the rest of the manuscript.48 Secondly, one wonders what their function was. Were they the beginning of a complete Office for St Peter that was never finished? If so, the scribe of the Þorlákr’s Office must have decided to start the Office on the verso side of a sheet of parchment that someone already had written on without bothering to erase the superfluous chants. Perhaps a more likely scenario could be that the scribe of Þorlákr’s Office had left the recto side of the first folio intentionally empty, and the other scribe added the antiphons for St Peter to this page after the Office had been written down because he needed them and did not have them available in other books. In that case either he did not have unused parchment at hand, or he deliberately chose to add them to the manuscript containing Þorlákr’s Office. The cathedral of Skálholt was dedicated to St Peter, with Þorlákr as its co-​patron. Could the scribe of the antiphons for St Peter have supplied the chants for a special veneration for the patron saint of the cathedral? As mentioned above, most of the chants of Þorlákr’s Office have Dominican models. The feast of the Crown of Thorns, the third feast represented in am 241 a ii fol., is one of the oldest feasts of the Dominican order and thus has Dominican roots as well.49 It was a latecomer to the medieval liturgy in the

47 48

49

written out in full and lacunae are filled out in square parenteses). This is the collect from the Dominican Rite, also found in the printed Nidaros breviary (Breuiaria, zz.vj. recto). [N]‌on miretur orthodoxorum etc. See Jacobus de Voragine, Legenda Aurea, chapter on De corona domini nostri Jesu Christi; Jón Þorkelsson, Om Digtningen på Island, 955. Róbert A. Ottósson suggested that a different scribe entered these chants (Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 34, footnote 13). Stefán Karlsson, on the other hand, found the two hands so similar that he saw them as the same scribe working at different times. Stefán Karlsson, “Þorlákstíðir í Skálholti,” 319. There are certain differences in the writing that can be taken as indications that two different scribes were at work (I will use the following abbreviations: P = scribe of the chants for Peter, T&ct = scribe of the chants for Þorlákr and the Crown of Thorns): the placement of the punctum (P: on the bottom line, T&ct: above bottom line); use of hair lines (P: long hair lines in connection with round s, T&ct: short hair lines in connection with round s, in addition hair lines are used with other letters as well); use of phrasing lines (P: no phrasing lines, T&ct: use of phrasing lines); differences with respect to the pen drawn initials; P uses diamond shaped note signs for descending notes within a neume, T&ct uses square shapes that are ‘chained’ (there is an exception in the melody of the sequence). In general P seems to be a more proficient scribe than T&ct who writes more unevenly. (I would like to thank Åslaug Ommundsen for giving her opinion on this matter.) Not only the contents, but even the way of writing betray Dominican influence: the use of phrasing lines of the music notation are typical for Dominican manuscripts. However, the

216 Attinger middle of the 13th century. Originally celebrated on August 11 (the date when the relic was received at Sens in France in 1239), the Dominicans chose a different date for the feast in order to avoid it falling within the octave of the feast day of the founder of their order, St Dominic (August 6). It was moved to May 4, the day after the feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross. Coming home from the ecumenical council of Lyon in 1274, the Archbishop Jón of Nidaros brought with him a relic of the Crown of Thorns as a gift from King Philip iii of France to Magnús the Law-​Mender in Bergen. The day of its translation from the cathedral to the Church of the Apostles, November 9, became the official feast day for the Crown of Thorns in Norway.50 The feast is not included in the Icelandic ordinal manuscripts except for it being mentioned in am 680b 4to.51 Here it is listed among the feast days on which the “Credo in unum deum” was to be sung. It is placed after the feast of the Transfiguration (August 6) and the feast of the Holy Blood (September 12).52 This shows that the feast was known in Iceland in the later Middle Ages and even might indicate a date for its celebration after September 12, most likely November 9 in that case.53 The evidence of am 241 a ii fol., however, points towards a celebration on the Dominican feast day, May 4: all of the chants end with an ‘Alleluia,’ a clear indication that they were to be sung sometime between Easter and Pentecost. The Office as given in am 241 a ii fol. seems to be the Dominican form with three lessons only found in the official examination copy of the Dominican order (bl Add. 23953), with Gaude felix mater ecclesia being the only antiphon for first vespers, and Christum sub serto spineo the antiphon for matins.54 Iceland never had an establishment of the Dominican order during the Middle Ages, and it is

50 51 52 53

54

scribe did not necessarily have to belong to the Dominican order himself, he might have been copying from a Dominican model. Molland, “Reliker,” in Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder, 14:50–​54, esp. 52. The feast is found on this date in the printed missal from 1519. am 680 b 4to is presented above in connection with the discussion of the feasts of Þorlákr not being included in the Icelandic ordinal manuscripts. Nidaros Cathedral received a relic of the Holy Blood in 1165, see Attinger and Haug, The Nidaros Office of the Holy Blood. After the entrance Spinee corone follow In utroque festo sancte crucis (the Invention and the Exaltation of the Holy Cross) which are celebrated May 3 and September 14 respectively. So perhaps the sequence of the listed feast does not have any relation to the date of their celebration after all. Since the manuscript breaks off in the first responsory of matins the contents of the following parts of the Office remains somewhat uncertain. As noted already by Róbert A. Ottósson, the melody of the first responsory (“Spina carens”) is not the same as the one in bl Add. 23953. Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 35.

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difficult to imagine any setting where an Office for the Crown of Thorns would have been performed in public on May 4. But there were Dominican friars in Iceland (Bishop Jón Halldórsson and the possible compiler of the Þorlákstíðir being two of them), so perhaps they might have celebrated the feast day in private.55 Interestingly, there is another Icelandic witness to an Office for the Crown of Thorns, now kept at the National Library in Reykjavik under the shelf mark Lbs. fragm. 49. Unfortunately it is very worn and dark. We do not know anything about the provenance of the leaf other than that it has been used as binding for one of the library’s books (Lbs. 320 8vo).56 It was written in the 15th century and contains the beginning of the Office, breaking off in the hymn of first vespers: Antiphon 1: Vexilla regis glorie Antiphon 2: Carnus indutus trabea Antiphon 3: Facta dei dextera Antiphon 4: Donis preclaris prediti Antiphon 5: Humiliari voluit Responsory: Felix spina Vers: O spinarum Vers: Gloria Hymn: Eterno regi glorie (incomplete) This is the beginning of the Nidaros Office for the Crown of Thorns as found in the printed breviary.57 Obviously, it was known in Iceland in the 15th century, too. Being an Office with nine lessons, it has to go with a feast that was celebrated outside the weeks between Easter and Pentecost which excludes May 4 as feast day. Most likely it would have been celebrated on the same day as in Norway, i.e. November 9. Without any further evidence, however, this remains an open question. 5

A Breviary Fragment from Skálholt

An observation that strengthens the assumption that the proper Office for Þorlákr was connected to Skálholt is found in another fragment from Árni

55

56 57

Bishop Vilchin (appointed bishop of Skálholt 1391, d. 1406), too, is marked as being a Dominican (“O. Praed.”) in Hierarchia Catholica Medii Aevi, 1:479. His period as bishop falls within the time span when the manuscript containing Þorlákstíðir probably was written. I thank Gunnar Harðarson for pointing this out to me. Images of the fragment can be found on the websites Ísmús: íslenskur músík-​og menningararfur (ismus.is) and Handrit.is (handrit.is). Breuiaria, zz.v. verso-​zz.vii. verso. Printed in Blume, Analecta hymnica medii aevi, 5:44–​47.

218 Attinger Magnússon's collection: am 241 b i e fol. It is a single leaf, presumably from a breviary written for Skálholt Cathedral, and was published in 1980 by Gjerløw who dates it to c.1500.58 She drew attention to the fact that it contains a prayer for Þorlákr accompanied by a chant (without music notation) which is also found in am 241 a ii fol.: Benedictus saluator seculi qui deuoto thorlaco presuli causam sui commisit populi. This is one of the antiphons following the Mass chants and preceding the chants for the Translation. Ottósson suggests it to be an antiphon for the commemoration of the saint, or to be used as processional antiphon.59 The former use seems to be confirmed by am 241 b i e fol. even though the melody is not provided in the breviary fragment. 6

Conclusion: More than One Liturgical Tradition

Around 1400 two liturgical practices for the celebration of St Þorlákr are documented in Icelandic sources containing Office chants: on the one hand, we have a manuscript containing a complete Office (Þorlákstíðir) and on the other hand, there exists a fragment from an antiphoner providing only proper gospel antiphons. (1) The chants of the Þorlákstíðir (am 241a ii fol.) were composed no earlier than the second quarter or middle of the 14th century. The source in which it has survived was written c.1400. This manuscript is not a standard antiphoner but seems to have contained only selected feasts. Both content and paleography show Dominican influence. It is written by a scribe connected to Skálholt and is known still to have been located in Skálholt after the reformation. Besides, one of the antiphons from the manuscript appears also in a Skálholt manuscript from c.1500. The Office seems to be a witness of how Þorlákr was celebrated at Skálholt from around the middle of the 14th century. (2) Two proper gospel antiphons for the December feast of St Þorlákr have survived in a fragment from an antiphoner from the first half of the 15th century (am Acc. 7 hs 34). One of them is either modelled on an antiphon of St 58 Gjerløw, Liturgica Islandica, 1:86–​90; 2:pl. 60–​61. 59 “Es könnte sich daher um selbständige Antiphonen zur Commemoratio des Heiligen oder um Ant. ad processionem handeln.” Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia, 40.

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Jón of Hólar or has served as a model for this antiphon. It is also documented in a Norwegian source from the second quarter of the 14th century, i.e. from about the same date when the Þorlákstíðir probably were compiled. (3) A third tradition is the continued use of chants from the Common of the Saints which is found in the printed Nidaros breviary from 1519.60 Whether this still was the case in Iceland towards the end of the Middle Ages is more doubtful. For Norway on the other hand, where Þorlákr was a more distant saint, and where his Translation never became an official feast, using chants common for a bishop and confessor was a natural way of providing a liturgy for the celebration of Þorlákr. That Mass chants from the Common were used in Iceland can be seen in the late medieval Missale Scardense, where both the offertory and communion are the same as the ones in the printed Nidaros missal. In addition, the Missale Scardense is a witness to a different sequence tradition than am 241a ii fol. The same goes for the Alleluia: different chants or melodies, common and proper items respectively, are to be found in two Icelandic manuscripts, a gradual from the 13th century (am 241 b i d fol.) and am 241a ii fol., written more than 100 years later. The Nidaros missal prescribes an Alleluia verse (also from the Common of the Saints) that is different from the two Icelandic sources. Different chants are also transmitted for the celebration of the feast of the Crown of Thorns. The two Offices, preserved in am 241a ii fol. and Lbs. fragm. 49 respectively, might at first glance look like a parallel to Þorlákr with a shorter (am Add. 7 hs 34, two gospel antiphons only) and a longer version (am 241a ii fol., complete Office). There is a crucial difference, however: for Þorlákr we have different chants for the same feast (December 23), in the case of the Crown of Thorns the two traditions are probably related to a feast being celebrated on different dates, the Dominican feast on May 4, and the Nidaros feast on November 9. Still, there is no doubt that the manuscripts presented in this article –​fragmentary as they are –​show that there was no unified form for how the feasts for the Crown of Thorns, a latecomer to the Icelandic liturgical calendar, and for Þorlákr, venerated since the end of the 12th century, were celebrated with regard to the number and selection of chants and their melodies. There is no liturgical uniformity to be found in medieval Iceland during the Middle Ages, even with regard to one of its native and most popular saints. 60

Here the following antiphons are provided for first vespers, lauds, and second vespers respectively: Confessor domini, O magne presul, Hodie mundo (Breuiaria, ff.v. (recto)–​ff.vi. (recto)). These chants appear in the Icelandic ordinal manuscripts in natalico unius confessoris [et pontificis] (cf. Gjerløw, Ordo Nidrosiensis ecclesiae, 285f).

220 Attinger

Bibliography



Primary Sources

Alleluia-​Melodien II (Ab 1100). Edited by Karlheinz Schlager. Monumenta Monodica Medii Aevi 8. Kassel: Bärenreiter, 1987. Analecta hymnica medii aevi 5. Historiae rhythmicae: Liturgische Reimofficien des Mittelalters. Erste Folge. Edited by C. Blume. Leipzig: Reisland, 1889. Bjarni Þorsteinsson. Íslenzk þjóðlög. Copenhagen: S.L. Møller, 1906. Breuiaria ad vsum ritumque sacrosancte Nidrosiensis ecclesie. Paris: Jean Kerbriant & Jean Bienayse, 1519. (Facsimile by Børsums forlag og antikvariat, 1964.) Diplomatarium Islandicum: Íslenzkt fornbréfasafn, sem hefir inni að halda bréf og gjörninga, dóma og máldaga, og aðrar skrár er snerta Ísland eða íslenzka menn. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Jón Þorkelsson, Páll Eggert Ólason, and Björn Þorsteinsson. 16 vols. Copenhagen and Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1857−1972. En Tale mod Biskoperne: et politisk Stridsskrift fra Kong Sverres Tid. Edited by Gustav Storm. Christiania: Gundersens Bogtrykkeri, 1885. Gjerløw, Lilli, ed. Antiphonarium Nidrosiensis ecclesiae. Libri liturgici provinciae Nidrosiensis medii aevi 3. Oslo: Norsk historisk kjeldeskrift-​institutt, Den Rettshistoriske kommisjon, 1979. Gjerløw, Lilli, ed. Liturgica Islandica 1: Text. Bibliotheca Arnamagnæana 35. Copenhagen: Reitzel, 1980. Gjerløw, Lilli, ed. Liturgica Islandica 2: Facsimiles. Bibliotheca Arnamagnæana 36. Copenhagen: Reitzel, 1980. Gjerløw, Lilli, ed. Ordo Nidrosiensis ecclesiae: Orðubók. Libri liturgici provinciae Nidrosiensis medii aevi 2. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1968. Hierarchia catholica medii aevi : sive summorum pontificum, S.R.E. cardinalium, ecclesiarum: 1: Ab anno 1198 usque ad annum 1431 perducta. Edited by Konrad Eubel. Monasterii, sumptibus et typis librariae Regensbergianae, 1898. Íslenzkar ártíðaskrár, eða Obituaria islandica; með athugasemdum, XXV ættaskrám og einni rímskrá. Edited by Jón Þorkelsson. Copenhagen: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1893–​96. Jacobus de Voragine. Legenda aurea vulgo historia Lombardica dicta (2nd ed). Lipsiae, 1850. Missale pro usu totius regni Norvegie: secundum ritum sancte Metropolitane Nidrosiensis ecclesie; correctum atque cum diligentia visum castigatum et revisum incipit in nomine Domini. Haffnie: Impressum Haffnie arte magistri Pauli Reff, 1519. (Facsimile by Børsums forlag og antikvariat, 1959.) Norges gamle love indtil 1387. Edited by Rudolf Keyser, Peter Andreas Munch, Gustav Storm, and Ebbe Hertzberg. 5 vols. Christiania: C. Gröndahl, 1846−95.

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Róbert Abraham Ottósson. Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia rhytmica et proprium missæin am 241 a folio. Bibliotheca Arnamagnæana. Suppl. III. Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1959.



Secondary Sources

Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder fra vikingtid til reformasjonstid. 22 vols. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde og Bagger, 1980–​82. Attinger, Gisela and Andreas Haug. The Nidaros Office of the Holy Blood: Liturgical Music in Medieval Norway. Trondheim: Tapir Academic Press, 2004. Cormack, Margaret. The Saints in Iceland: Their Veneration from the Conversion to 1400. Bruxelles: Sociétédes Bollandistes, 1994. Geert Andersen, Merete. Katalog over am Accessoria 7. De latinske fragmenter. Copenhagen: Reitzel, 2008. Gjerløw, Lilli. “Kalendarium II.” In Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder, 8:94–​106. Oslo: Gyldendal, 1963. Gottskálk Jensson. “Latin Hagiography in Medieval Iceland.” In Corpus Christianorum Hagiographies 7, edited by M. Goullet, 875–​949. Turnhout: Brepols, 2017. Jón Þorkelsson. Om Digtningen på Island i det 15. og 16. Århundrede. Copenhagen: Høst, 1888. Molland, Einar. “Reliker.” In Kulturhistorisk leksikon for nordisk middelalder, 14: 50–​54. Oslo: Gyldendal, 1969. Ommundsen, Åslaug and Gisela Attinger. “Icelandic liturgical books and how to recognise them.” Scriptorium 67 (2013): 293–​317, plates 31–​42. Reiss, Georg. Musiken ved den middelalderlige Olavsdyrkelse i Norden. Christiania: Dybwad, 1911. Stefán Karlsson. “Þorlákstíðir í Skálholti.” Gripla 5 (1982): 319–​20. Vågslid, Eivind. Norske logmannsbrev frå millomalderen: ei skrifthistorisk etterrøking av logmannsbrev frå Oslo, Uppland, Skien, Tunsberg, Borgarting og Bohuslän, Oslo: Det Norske videnskaps-​akademi i Oslo, 1930.

pa rt 5 Manuscript Practice and Multiple Careers

∵

chapter 10

Elucidating Charter Practice and Administrative Literacy in Four Works by Einarr Hafliðason Embla Aae 1

Introduction

In academic discourse, pragmatic literature has not traditionally been examined in the same context, nor with the same purpose as narratives. This has resulted in charters and narrative sources, even when produced by the same scribe, being characterised differently by modern scholarship. One often finds pragmatic literature used alongside narrative sources to verify events described in the narrative, or to provide a more general historical context. However, the two categories are often treated as supplements to each other, and seldom seen as equals. It is evident that even for the scribe, the production of charters served a different purpose than the composition and compilation of sagas. Nevertheless, if written in the same approximate time and environment, and at times even by the same hand, why keep these textual categories apart? This chapter endeavors to bring pragmatic literature into an interdisciplinary academic conversation.1 The field of Old Norse philology has provided many insights into the manuscripts of saga narratives, while medieval historians have traditionally grappled with the historicity of charters, writs, and historical compositions such as annals. The challenge of an interdisciplinary approach is not to discover the sources anew, but to set aside the biases of both disciplines in order to treat one’s sources in a truly comparative manner. A great deal of excellent research is at one’s disposal when working with epistolary material from High and Late Medieval Europe, although less work has perhaps been carried out on the Scandinavian collections.2 1 This chapter evolved from a presentation made at the University of Oslo in 2017, following a series of weekly seminars on medieval manuscript culture, which inspired contemplations of textual categories and their possible interconnectedness in medieval practice. 2 Eivind Vaagslid published an extensive overview of identified Norwegian scribal hands in 1981, and Inger Larsson produced a thorough analysis of the Swedish charter and letter praxis in the middle ages: Eivind Vaagslid, Norske Skrivarar i Millomalderen; Inger Larsson, Svenska Medeltidsbrev. Digitalization of both the Swedish and the Norwegian collections of medieval letters has in the last ten years made this wealth of source material much more accessible.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_012

226 Aae In this chapter, I intend to place products of administrative literacy, specifically charters and annals, side by side with narrative sources. I will interpret the narrative sources and annals described below with a focus on how they each represent charter practice and administrative literacy in different ways. By employing an interdisciplinary approach, I aim to shed light on epistolary culture, charter production and charter transmission in the Northern Icelandic ecclesiastical milieu of the 14th century. Furthermore, administrative literacy would necessarily have affected the communicative relationship between Icelandic clerics and the archiepiscopal see in Nidaros, an aspect which will be taken into account in the present analysis. An underlying assumption that will be established along the way is the interconnectedness of the four texts presented below, as this is important for the consistency of their treatment of epistolary culture. Their interconnectedness has been termed ‘intertextuality’ in this chapter, referring to the ways in which the examined texts relate to each other in terms of their purpose, origin, authorship and contents. The primary source material discussed in this chapter consists of texts which have all been attributed to the same scribe, the Icelandic priest Einarr Hafliðason, who according to his own annal was born in 1307. The annals of Flateyjarbók give his obituary in an entry of 1393, stating that he died on 19 October, at an age close to 90.3 Einarr was a pupil of Laurentius Kálfsson, who was bishop at Hólar from 1324–​31.4 He received his education both at the diocese of Hólar and at the Benedictine monastery at Þingeyrar, and served under Laurentius from the age of ten.5 He was made sub-​deacon and then deacon in 1324–​25, and following the death of Laurentius, and supposedly also according to his wishes, Einarr was consecrated to priesthood by Jón Halldórsson, then bishop of Skálholt, in 1331.6 Throughout his life he served the Hólar bishopric both as steward (1340–​76) and as officialis (1341–​93), and he produced diverse works during the course of his lifetime of administrative and epistolary character, as well as narratives and translations.7 Einarr was part of a milieu known as the Northern Icelandic Benedictine School, which was closely connected to the Benedictine monasteries of

3 4 5 6 7

These collections may be found at https://​sok.riksarkivet.se/​sdhk and https://​www.dokpro. uio.no/​dipl_​norv/​diplom_​felt.html. One or both of these annals have slightly missed the mark when it comes to the accuracy of their chronology if Einarr was one year away from 90 at this point. Islandske Annaler indtil 1578, ed. Storm, 264, 420. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, introduction to Biskupa sögur III, lxviii. Biskupa sögur III, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 319. Islandske Annaler indtil 1578, ed. Storm, 270–71, 395–96. Islandske Annaler, 240, 280–81, 400.

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Þingeyrar and Munkaþverá, as well as to the cathedral of Hólar. Although he was not himself a monk, he was educated alongside them and seems to have known many of the Benedictine brothers from this milieu.8 The Northern Icelandic Benedictine school is characterized by its Latinate vernacular and special style of writing, known as skrúðstíll, as well as by the fact that many of the texts produced within this regional tradition have named authors. The school was given its name by Sverrir Tómasson in an attempt to discourage the attribution of authorship of several texts to one scribe. Instead, he attributed the similarities in “diction, use of certain topoi, words and sources” to a milieu in which writers received comparable schooling and were exposed to the same monastic ideas.9 The Benedictine monasteries in Iceland, in line with the European tradition, had from their establishment in the twelfth century functioned as centers of learning for boys who would later become priests, as well as for the sons of the Icelandic aristocracy. Their influence on learned activities at Hólar resulted in a milieu of scribes both versed in Latin, and with an interest in the production and propagation of Christian works.10 Einarr announces his own commitment to such interests, when he proclaims in his prologue to Laurentius saga byskups that “þó at þat verði nokkot ónytsamligt starf saman at setja þvílíka hluti sem birtaz ok auðsýnaz má í þessu máli, er þó verra at heyra ok í gaman henda at sögum heiðinna manna.”11 Laurentius saga byskups is decidedly the longest of the four texts examined here, and also the one which presents the greatest number of challenges in terms of determining its authorship and dating. However, by virtue of its status as a narrative, it also contains the largest amount of contextual information about charters and epistolary culture during the period in question. The oldest surviving manuscript witnesses of this saga are two manuscripts from the early 16th century, both of which lack an ending, and so do all other text witnesses thus far discovered of this saga.12 The second text examined is the annal known as Lögmannsannáll as it appears in the manuscript Reykjavik,

8 9 10 11

12

It is from Laurentius saga that most of the biographical information about scribes such as Bergr Sokkason, Arngrímr Brandsson and Árni Lárentíusson, originates. Johansson, “Texter i rörelse,” 88. Sverrir Tómasson, introduction to Helgastaðabók, 174–​75. Johansson, “The Learned Sturlungar and the Emergence of Icelandic Literate Culture,” 382. “Although striving to compile such occurrences as those illuminated and pointed out in this tale might seem less useful, it is yet worse to hear and clap one’s hands in joy at the tales of heathen men.” Biskupa sögur III, 216. All translations are the author’s unless otherwise noted. Árni Björnsson, “Laurentius saga biskups í ÍB 62 fol.,” 127.

228 Aae The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies, am 420 b 4to.13 Only the leaves written in Einarr’s scribal hand, and dated to sometime after 1360, constitute the part of the manuscript that has been examined for this chapter.14 I will refer to this part of the manuscript as ‘Einarr’s annal.’ This source is especially interesting because of its implications for the intellectual milieu of Northern Iceland in the 14th century. Additionally, Einarr’s annal is valuable for what it can tell us about charter culture and ties to the Norwegian ecclesiastical administration. The short miracle story Atburðr á Finnmörk serves as the third source for comparison and is found in the manuscript Copenhagen, Arnamagnæan Collection, am 194 8vo. For the purposes of this chapter, the clear information it contains about the literary and epistolary activities preceding its production is particularly interesting. The manuscript in which it is found was compiled around 1387, and the short story itself was translated from Latin by Einarr in 1381. The last source examined here is a charter issued at Hólar in 1341, regarding a disagreement over property rights between the bishop of Hólar and Rafn bóndi. It is possible to examine the surviving 14th-​ century artefact containing Einarr Hafliðason’s scribal hand in the last three of these sources. As the manuscripts containing the saga are later than the saga’s composition, the material aspects of these will not be examined as closely as those of the other three texts. 2

Laurentius saga byskups

The saga narrative relating the life of Bishop Laurentius has long been attributed to Einarr Hafliðason. Although the original may have been by Einarr, it is not certain how much of the narrative has been altered through rewritings by subsequent scribes, as Einarr’s original version no longer exists. Árni, the son of Laurentius, who was consecrated to the priesthood at the same time as Einarr and was later a brother of the Þingeyrar monastery, has been suggested as a possible contributor to the version of the text contained

13 14

Storm’s 1888-​edition of Icelandic annals has been cited in the current examination as it is a direct transcription of the manuscript am 420 b 4to, supplemented with text from am 420 c 4to. This assumption is based on the fact that the next scribal hand to add entries to the annal begins by supplementing the entry for 1361. If annal entries were indeed not composed on a year-​by-​year basis, as will be argued later on in this chapter, the first scribe would have compiled information for all the years up to and including his present year by means of consulting different sources before the manuscript came into someone else’s possession.

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in Copenhagen, Arnamagnæan Collection, am 180 b fol. This is the oldest of the surviving manuscript witnesses, dated to c.1500, and it is written in several different hands.15 The scribal hand of the slightly younger Reykjavik, The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies, am 406 a i 4to, dated to c.1530, belongs to a priest and steward of Hólar who lived during the 16th century.16 This scribe thus held the position which Einarr had held in the 14th century. The scribe may have had access to an older version, if not the original saga manuscript itself, through means of his administrative position at the Hólar episcopal see. A later manuscript, Reykjavik, The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies am 404 4to was copied c.1640 from the steward’s manuscript by Jón Pálsson, another scribe at Hólar, and contains parts of the aforementioned manuscript which are no longer legible due to its preservation. These three serve as the basis for Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir’s edition, which has been consulted for this chapter. The saga also appears in another 18 manuscripts, mostly paper manuscripts, dated from the 17th to the 19th century.17 The saga narrative begins at a point of time which was likely far removed from the time of its composition –​a hypothesis supported by the fact that the writer confuses the dates of secular and ecclesiastical authorities of that time in his prologue.18 The prologue of Laurentius saga also serves as one of the most compelling indicators of Einarr’s authorship. It presents the historical context of the saga narrative, but also states that the author is someone close to Bishop Laurentius, who has been “í hans þjónustu ok herbergi nátt ok dag meðan hann var byskup á Íslandi þar till hann andaðiz.”19 Einarr is the most likely candidate for the narrative voice; as a pupil of Laurentius who “served him night and day,”, he will in all likelihood have found himself as a confidante to his tutor and privy to his life story. Following this statement, the saga writer states which other sources he has used to put together this narrative:

15 16 17 18

19

Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, introduction to Biskupa sögur III, lx. Introduction to Biskupa sögur III, lvii–​l ix. am 204 fol., am 214 fol., am 384 b 4to, am 403 4to, am 405 4to, am 406 a ii 1 4to, am 406 a ii 2 4to, am 406 a ii 3 4to, am 406 a ii 4 4to, am 406 a ii 5 4to, am 406 b 4to, am 406 c 4to, íb 62 fol., js 611 4to, Lbs. 839 4to, Lbs. 942 4to, Lbs. 1229 4to, and Lbs. 3505 4to. The writer contextualizes the beginning of the narrative by telling us that Urban iv was the pope in Rome, Hákon was archbishop in Nidaros, the bishop of Hólar was Jörundr, and that Magnús Hákonarson reigned with secular authority in Norway. Urban iv was pope for only three years until his death in 1264, at which point Magnus was already king of Norway. But Archbishop Hákon only had a few months in office before he perished, and the year he died was the same year that Bishop Jörundr became the bishop of Hólar. “in his [Laurentius’] service and home night and day, while he was bishop in Iceland, until he died.” Biskupa sögur III, 216.

230 Aae Eru hér ok margir hlutir saman settir af ýmissum atburðum sem fram hafa farit á ýmsum löndum eftir því sem annálar til vísa hverir mestan fróðleik sýna, svá ok eru margir hlutir inn settir af byskupum ok öðrum veraldar höfðingjum … 20 The saga is thus narrated by someone who considered the annals to be reliable historical documents, and the information which has been taken from annal entries is visibly unchanged, in the sense that the short notices characteristic of the annal format have not been transformed into narrative passages or expanded upon in any way.21 Additionally, because of the many instances in which the saga directly quotes Einarr’s annal, Guðbrandr Vigfússon has deemed it unlikely that the saga writer should be any other than Einarr Hafliðason, as it would make little sense for a contemporary to copy Einarr’s words exactly as they appear in his annals, in order to describe events he had supposedly witnessed himself.22 Vigfússon determined the terminus post quem of the saga to be 1346, 15 years after the death of Laurentius, based on an allusion to the Archbishop Árni Vaði in the text, who was not elected until that year. Guðni Jónsson, in the preface to his edition published in 1962, states that the saga is an authoritative source for the first third of the 14th century, even though he considers it to have been written “allmörgum árum eftir lát Laurentius biskups.”23 The narrative is probably younger than what has so far been suggested, considering the saga’s paraphrasing and direct transcription of entries from Einarr’s annal. That work, for reasons explained below, has been given a terminus post quem of 1365 at the earliest, possibly as late as 1370. It is thus reasonable to place the composition of Laurentius saga in the last third of the 14th century.

20

21

22 23

“Here are also many things put together of various occurrences, which have happened in various countries, as told by the annals, which each exhibit the greatest knowledge. So are also many things put together about the bishops and secular chieftains … “ Biskupa sögur III, 216. This seemingly trans-​scribal use of charters is, as we shall see, the result of a selective process, and echoes the use of charters and writs as seen in Hákonar saga, where the inclusions serve to amplify the laudatory nature of the work. Rohrbach, “Narrative Negotiations of Literacy Practices,” 103. Following this logic, the narrative voice either belongs to Einarr, or to someone who is lying about having been day and night in the service of the bishop. Guðbrandr Vigfússon and Jón Sigurðsson, preface to Biskupa sögur, ed. Jón Sigurðsson et al., 1:lxxxvii–​xc. “Quite a few years after the death of Bishop Laurentius.” Guðni Jónsson, preface to Biskupa sögur, 3:vii.

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The saga borrows many of its words from Einarr’s annal, especially at the onset of the narrative. The first few chapters of the saga consist of chronological descriptions of events occurring in Iceland and abroad during the first 20 years of Laurentius’ life, interrupted only by a short anecdote from Laurentius’ childhood.24 It is again evident that the production of the narrative took place so much later than the early life of Laurentius, that the writer had to rely on written sources and documents such as annals, perhaps supplemented by the bishop’s own stories, in order to fill in the gaps. The saga and the annal diverge more and more as the saga narrative progresses, and the annal information is eventually reduced to additional passages at the end of chapters, rather than making up whole chapters of the saga. Several 19th-​century translators and editors have separated the annalistic passages from the narrative.25 This follows a practice which seems to have begun in the early 18th century.26 Laurentius saga is however not the first, nor the only Icelandic ecclesiastical saga that makes use of annal entries, as the same strategy has been used both in the Prestssaga of Guðmundr Arason, as well as in the saga of Bishop Árni Þorláksson, both of which are considered to be older than Laurentius saga. Margaret Cormack states that the reasons for including annal entries are unclear, but that they do serve to “situate the Icelandic bishops with respect to the ‘universal’ world of Christian history and geography.”27 The insertions may thus serve both contextual and supplementary purposes in the narrative. The saga text in its current form uses Latinate grammar, and incorporates Latin words and phrases, traits which are typical among writers within the Northern Icelandic Benedictine School.28 Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir notes in the preface to her edition that the saga narrative mirrors the lifestyle of those learned men in the 14th century who were proficient in canon law, the Latin language, and the composition of prose and poetry, and states that the saga 24 25

26

27 28

The episode describes an early instance in which Laurentius’ prayer to the Virgin Mary is answered, exemplifying his position as favored by the saints venerated by the Catholic Church. Biskupa sögur III, 225–​26. Oliver Elton makes a remark about the annalist having “spoiled the flow” of the saga by inclusion of these passages, thus justifying his choice of modifying the text by placing the passages from Einarr’s annal separate from the rest of his text. Elton, The Life of Laurence, 144. In Lbs. 3505 4to (1698), passages made up of annal information are often found separated from the rest of the narrative by a larger space than usual between the words. In íb 62 fol. (c.1770), the annal entries are also separated from the rest of the narrative, here by an even larger space on the line. Additionally, íb 62 fol. gives dates for the annal entries, which are noted in the margin. Cormack, “Christian Biography,” 37. Böðvar Guðmundsson, Íslensk bókmenntasaga, 264.

232 Aae was “diktuð af latínulærðum klerki.”29 Einarr’s annal entry for 1274 features a sentence half in Latin and half in Old Norse, which reads “Jón erkibyskup kom í land cum parte spinee corone domini nostri Jesu Christi er Magnúsi konungi var sent af Filippus konungi af Franz.”30 In comparison, the description of the same year in Laurentius saga reads: “Kom einn hlutr af þyrniskórónu drottins várs Jesú Kristi er Magnúsi konungi var sent af Philippus konungi af Franz.”31 This may suggest either a larger number of Latin words and phrases having been part of the first version of the saga, or a conscious choice made by Einarr in editing the annal information. As a side note, the process of normalization has rendered the word kongr, as it appears in am 420 b 4to, in an older form in the saga edition (konungr). It is reasonable to assume that the translation of the sentence given above has taken place at some point during the saga’s creation or transmission through rewriting. These changes may have been caused by the fact that these two texts were likely intended for different audiences. One was probably written for Einarr’s own use, and for his colleagues who were also learned in Latin, whereas the saga would have appealed to a wider audience. It is possible that the norms and conventions already in place for saga narratives at this point made it evident that sentences should be rendered in the vernacular wherever possible in such a work. Laurentius saga contains such a wealth of references to epistolary practice that only a few highlights will be included in this chapter. In a prophetic dream that Laurentius’ mother has while pregnant, a merging of the worlds of administrative literature and religious prophecy appears when a man brings her a linen cloth, within which is wrapped a “stórt byskups innsigli með þeim inngreftri sem byskups líkneskja er á.”32 Additionally, two of the major conflicts occurring in Laurentius’ life before he becomes bishop of Hólar begin with his proclamation of a letter of excommunication. He reads the first one on behalf of Bishop Jörundr of Hólar to Sigurðr of Hlíð in Iceland, and the second one on behalf of the bishop’s namesake, Archbishop Jörundr. The second letter of excommunication is addressed to Archbishop Jörundr’s own canons at Nidaros, with whom the archbishop had many disagreements. 29 30

31 32

“Composed by a clerk learned in Latin.” Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, introduction to Biskupa sögur III, lxiv, lxiv. “Archbishop Jón landed (in Norway) with a piece of the crown of thorns of our lord Jesus Christ which was sent to King Magnús by King Philip of France.” Storm, Islandske Annaler indtil 1578, 259. Citations from the annal have been normalized when used in comparison to the text of Laurentius saga. “Arrived a piece of the crown of thorns which had belonged to our Lord Jesus Christ, which was sent to King Magnús by Philip, king of France.” Biskupa sögur III, 224. “Large bishop’s seal with engravings of the bishop’s likeness on it.” Biskupa sögur III, 220.

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In both instances, the narrator emphasizes that Laurentius reads the letter loudly and clearly, and in a public place; from the choir of the church during Mass at a high feast.33 On each occasion, these aspects of his proclamation contribute to making sure that the accused cannot deny their reception of the message, and thus cannot ignore its contents on the grounds of being ignorant of said message. This points to a crucial characteristic of medieval epistolary culture often hinted at by the charters themselves. Medieval charters and correspondence written in Old Norse often open with a variation of the inscriptio “öllum mönnum þeim er þetta bréf sjá eða heyra,” a translation of the Latin phrase universis (omnibus) praesentes litteras inspecturis (visuris) vel audituris.34 This turn of phrase implies that the aural reception –​and thereby the oral performance –​of a letter was of equal importance to its reception among those literate enough to read it. Although it is uncertain for how long the proclamational aspect of charters remained an important factor in ensuing their validity, it is clear that the saga writer believed this was still crucial during the time of Laurentius. Similar emphasis on the oral performance of charters are to be found in several other places in the corpus of Icelandic pragmatic literature. In 1423, a charter testifies to a summons having been delivered to its recipient by a messenger for him to read “with his own eyes.” But in addition to this, a member of the summoning party “lass þat sama brefuet þar firir kirkiu hurdunom i Saurbæ þegar samstundis oss oc morgom adrom ahøirande.”35 A 1481 attachment to a summons contains a testimony from the person who has delivered the summons, stating that he has proclaimed it “sva hatt ok skilid at han matti vel heyra ef hann villde.”36 These are only a few examples, but in the future, a thorough survey of pragmatic literature in the Icelandic corpus might elucidate its conventions of aurality and orality to a greater extent. Supporting the suggestion that the proclamation of a letter was crucial to its reception, is the fact that both times the saga narrative has Laurentius reading a letter of excommunication, it is met with vocal protestations, and at times also with violent physical responses. In the first instance, we hear that “Fekk Laurentius af Sigurði ok hans mönnum mörg atyrdi ok hótanarorð, svá viðr því

33 34 35 36

Biskupa sögur III, 233–​34, 248. “To all those who see or hear this letter.” Lars Hamre, Innføring i diplomatikk, 35–​36. “read that same letter in front of the church door at Saurbæ when at the same time we and many other listeners were present.” Diplomatarium Islandicum (hereinafter di), 4:309. “so loudly and clearly that he [the summoned person] was well able to hear it if he wished to.” di, 6:387.

234 Aae var búit at honum mundi varla óhætt at ganga út af kirkjunni.”37 The second letter of excommunication ends up having negative consequences well into the narrative, as the canons’ hostility toward Laurentius later lands him in a dungeon. Already moments after he has proclaimed this letter, one of the canons gives a bitter rebuke to Laurentius. His words further the hypothesis that the proclamation of letters was an important part of their validity, as he says; “Eigi þarftú, Íslendingr, svá hátt at æpa, því vér heyrum hvat þú segir.”38 Even when returning to Iceland, Laurentius cannot escape the consequences of his excellent proclamation in Norway, as one of the canons of Nidaros becomes the next bishop of Hólar, and another becomes the next Archbishop of Nidaros, officials with great potential to ruin Laurentius’ life. In the end, it is the decision of his former adversaries to make Laurentius the new bishop of Hólar, after the previous bishop and one of the former canons, Auðunn rauði, dies.39 Interestingly, the saga rarely portrays bishops, archbishops, or other persons of considerable authority writing or proclaiming their own letters. When Laurentius’ lay friend Pétr asks the king to write to his female relative on behalf of Pétr with a proposal of marriage, the king agrees to do so, but it is Laurentius who composes the letter, to which the king then attaches his seal.40 Archbishop Eilífr similarly makes requests from his clerics for letters to be composed, and after Laurentius is made bishop, he no longer writes his own letters, but rather has letters made, and has letters read out. This suggests that composition and proclamation of pragmatic literature belonged to the office of the scribe, not that of higher officials. In addition to proclamation in the presence of witnesses, the saga narrative emphasizes the importance of the survival of the physical charter, undamaged and with seals still attached. During Laurentius’ first conflict with the brothers of Möðruvellir, after he has read a charter of judgement from the choir during Mass on a high feast-​day, the brothers wish to get from him the copia, and to depart with it.41 Later, after Laurentius proclaims the same judgement once 37 38 39 40 41

“Laurentius received so many reproaches and threats from Sigurðr and his men, so that because of these doings, it was hardly safe for him to leave the church.” Biskupa sögur III, 234. “No need to yell so loud, Icelander, we can hear you.” Biskupa sögur III, 248. Biskupa sögur III, 345. The letter is in Latin. The saga writer thus implicitly claims that not only Laurentius, Pétr and the king himself are learned in Latin, but that the king’s female relative is as well, unless he expects her to have the letter translated. Biskupa sögur III, 236–​37. The charter concerns Einarr’s judgement in a case of a woman who had chosen a final resting place at her local church, but at the wish of her husband was buried at Möðruvellir instead. The gifts for her soul thus also went to Möðruvellir, and the local priest made a complaint to Einarr. Biskupa sögur III, 277–​80.

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more, “greip ábóti til bréfsins í kirkjunni ok margir menn með honum; rifu þeir í sundr bréfit ok frá innsiglit.”42 As we shall see later, possession of physical charters was important in judicial cases, and Laurentius would now have been unable to produce this one as evidence in court. After this event, Laurentius is yet again chased out of the church followed by threats of violence.43 In another writ-​related incident, Laurentius compiles a document detailing all the illegal and irresponsible actions which Bishop Jörundr has carried out in Iceland and reads it out to him, telling the bishop that he will bring these accusations to the archbishop of Nidaros. Jörundr then offers him a deal, promising that all enmity between them will be forgotten if Laurentius destroys the letter instead of sending it to the archbishop, and also swears an oath of fealty to Jörundr. The words used in this context are “sker í sundr þetta bréf.”44 It seems that the destruction of the letter, before it had been read out in front of witnesses, might have been the best way to invalidate its contents, murdering it both in the sense of silencing its contents, and in the sense of cutting apart the vellum on which the contents were written.45 Attempts at destroying letters even after they have been read out do however show that the survival of the physical document was seen as important to its validity and for its use in court, even after recipients and witnesses had heard its message. Perhaps the most interesting use of letters described in the saga is the scene which gives the canons of Nidaros cause to throw Laurentius in a dungeon, as well as to confiscate all his belongings. The saga describes how Laurentius is summoned to appear before Archbishop Jörundr of Nidaros prior to going back to Iceland along with Brother Björn, where they are to serve as visitatores. The saga then tells us that the archbishop gave him 42 43

44 45

“The abbot and many men with him grabbed at the letter in the church. They ripped the letter apart and tore the seal away.” Biskupa sögur III, 281. An instance where a messenger is met with actual violence is documented in the proceedings following an incident which took place in Bergen during March of 1320. According to nine witness statements, a priest was assaulted by a canon in the Church of the 12 Apostles in Bergen as he was attempting to proclaim some letters of prohibition issued by the bishop. The assailant also attempted to take the letters away from the priest. Diplomatarium Norvegicum (hereinafter dn), 8:76–​89. This incident is also referred to by Christian Etheridge, ­chapter 1, note 127, in this volume. “Cut apart this letter.” Biskupa sögur III, 290. The term “murder” when used of letters is emic for Old Norse literature. As pointed out by Lena Rorbach, the murder of a letter is discouraged in Sturlunga saga, and is one of the many ways in which the contemporary sagas grapple with letter culture, and especially with the remoteness of sender and recipient as well as the aural reception of letters. Laurentius saga thus fits into a narratological continuity within the corpus of saga material. Rohrbach, “Narrative Negotiations of Literacy Practices,” 100.

236 Aae með sínu opnu innsigli þrjár membranas, at þau bréf eru sváfelld at innsigla skal, en skrifa ekki á; skal sá, sem út er gefit, þá slíkt á skrifa sem honum líkar ok sverja eið áðr, at hann skal ekki þat skrifa á, sem til skaða sé þeim sem út gefr, eðr hans kirkju. Ok þenna eið sór sira Laurentius.46 Whether this act presents somewhat of a literary overstatement on the saga writer’s side is difficult to say, but another instance of someone else being in possession of the archbishop’s seal does appear in the saga when Hákon Úlfsson, the notarius of the archbishop’s retinue, is imprisoned for having revealed the contents of a letter which the archbishop wanted sealed and sent to Iceland, to the canons.47 Furthermore, it is interesting that the swearing of oaths is often mentioned alongside the sealing of letters, as shall be seen in the charter examined below. This mode of making arrangements is grounded in the laws of the 13th-​and 14th centuries, but is thought to have existed in Scandinavian society even before the written laws.48 At several points in the saga narrative, agreements are made með handlögum and later strengthened with letters and seals, or vice versa. If reflecting a contemporary practice, this would seem to mean that charters and letters had not yet achieved such a status as legal and validating documents that they alone could serve as sufficient proof of a transaction or judgement. Witnesses were also of great importance in medieval law. According to the laws of Magnús Hákonarson, upon which the laws of Jónsbók are based, all cases are to be judged based on evidence and on witness statements; one witness is said to be as good as none, whereas two witnesses are of equal value to ten, unless one fears the witnesses of the opposition.49 Towards the end of Laurentius saga, after Laurentius has been made bishop of Hólar and finds himself in conflict with Bishop Jón Halldórsson of Skálholt over the rights of the canonry at Möðruvellir, the narrative diverges from its previous pattern in which Laurentius gains misfortune from his proclamations. In this scene, Laurentius is not the summoner, but the summoned party, and 46

47 48 49

“ … three parchments with his open seal. And those letters are fitted in such a way that they shall be sealed, but not written on. That one, to whom the letters are given, shall write whatever he likes on them, but swear an oath beforehand that he will not write such things on it which will harm the one who has issued them, or his church, and master Laurentius swore this oath.” Biskupa sögur III, 267–​68. Biskupa sögur III, 422–​24. See i.e. Laing, “Bound by words.” Taranger, trans., Magnus Lagabøters landslov, 10.

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the narrative stays true to its views on the importance of the aural reception of the summonings. Bishop Laurentius refuses to hear the ordinance which has been sent to him by Bishop Jón of the southern diocese, thus preventing the proper oral performance of its contents. The clerk appointed to deliver the summons arrives at Hólar and is greeted in a friendly manner, although the bishop says he will not hear the letter. When the clerk makes ready to read it anyway, “stökk byskup upp ok burt … ok allir klerkar með honum.”50 Through this course of action, Laurentius removes both the recipient (himself) and any potential witnesses to the proclamation (the other clerics). He also forbids the messenger from reading the letter during Mass. However, he forbids his own men from taking the letter away from the messenger by force, and from harming him as they remove him from Mass. The narrative is at this point grappling with the norms of summonings in epistolary practice, as well as negotiating the boundaries between desirable and undesirable epistolary culture. In the moral conveyed by the narrative, murdering letters and harming messengers has been firmly established as undesirable, whereas Laurentius in his attempt to defend himself from receiving a letter falls somewhere closer to desirable behavior (although he is certainly not shown as infallible). As the narrative presents certain behavior such as seizing letters, as carried out by the bishop’s adversaries only, we may infer that such behavior was frowned upon, especially among clerics. Within the moral framework of the saga then, these acts can be placed in the category of undesirable epistolary culture. The tendency to frame letter-​grabbers as villains may stem from an anxiety relating to loss of authority for the saga writer, which may make him wish to discourage acts that hold the potential of giving the laity an upper hand against the learned. The aforementioned conflict is resolved, although not in Laurentius’ favor, when the messenger at last resorts to fastening his letter to the church doors with iron nails before riding away. The number of learned people who are thus able to read the letter appears to constitute a sufficient number of witnesses to render the letter valid as a summoning. This forces Bishop Laurentius to acknowledge the summoning and he is obliged to appear before his adversary at Skálholt.51

50 51

“the bishop leapt up and went away … and all the clerics with him.” Biskupa sögur III, 398. The ordinance is not listed in the Diplomatarium Islandicum, although a confirmation of an agreement regarding the payment of tithes between Laurentius and another Northern monastery, Þingeyrar, exists. This confirmation was made by the archbishop and is dated to two years prior to the disagreement about Möðruvellir. di, 2:642–​44.

238 Aae 3

Lögmannsannáll

This annal received its name from having been owned by a lawman in the 17th century and has been preserved in two manuscripts written in different hands. The manuscript am 420 b 4to contains entries describing the years 102 ce to 1392 ce, although the annal is believed to have been longer than it appears in its current form.52 One main hand has been identified in this manuscript as having written these first ten (originally 12) leaves, which end with the entry for 1362. The 11th leaf has been completed in four different hands.53 Academic consensus since the assessment of Árni Magnússon has been that the main hand in the manuscript is that of Einarr Hafliðason. This assessment is based on comparisons between the five extant charters written in his hand.54 Another telling sign is the entry for 1307 in the annal itself, in which he records his own birth, at first in the neutral narrative voice which characterizes most of the annal; “fėddr Sira Einar Haflida son. in octaua natuitatis gloriose virginis Marie.”55 The narrator then switches to a first-​person voice, compelling the reader to pray for his soul: bid ek syndugr madr þetta letr lesande edr heyrande at þer bidit fyrir mer til guds sua at ek mėtte reiknazst a domsdege j medal hans valdra manna. ok hans seta moðir Maria hialpe mer a minne dauda stundu ok aarne mer miskunnar vidr sinn signada son. aue Marie mater domini mei succurre mihi peccatori hic et in futuro seculo amen.56 This is not the only use of the first person over the course of the ten leaves written by Einarr, as he also reveals himself in the long obituary for Bishop Laurentius, in the entry of 1332.57 The entry quoted above however is interesting for more reasons than for the purpose of identifying Einarr as author, as will be discussed in greater detail below. 52 Kålund, Katalog, 625–​26. 53 Storm supplemented his edition of the annal with information from am 420 c 4to, an almost identical, and somewhat later version of am 420 b 4to. 54 Biskupa sögur III, lxvii. 55 “The priest Einarr Hafliðason was born on the eight day of the nativity of the glorious Virgin Mary (15th of September).” Islandske Annaler, 264. 56 “I, a sinful man, beg of all those reading or hearing, that you pray to God for me, so that on Doomsday I may be reckoned among his chosen, and may his blessed mother Mary aid me in my dying moment and beg mercy for me of her blessed Son. Hail Mary mother of the Lord, aid me, a sinner, here and in the afterlife, Amen.” Islandske Annaler, 264. 57 Islandske Annaler, 269.

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Eldbjørg Haug points out that the annals should be studied “as an expression of how a compiler would formulate them from the perspective of hindsight.”58 This view of the annals as historical constructions complies with an academic consensus that the High and Late Medieval annals were “learned compilations.” They were probably not written down chronologically over time, as has been the assumption for the brief notes in monastic Easter tables, a tradition which serves as precursor to annalistic works.59 For the manuscript am 420 b 4to in particular, this pertains to the leaves written in Einarr’s hand, as his entries exhibit a certain consistency. The last leaf, completed by several unidentified hands, seem to have been written down only a few years at a time. The manuscript as a whole is thus a hybrid construction, situated somewhere between a learned compilation and a chronological account of events. Eldbjørg Haug has argued that the terminus post quem for the main bulk of Lögmannsannáll, the part written by Einarr himself, must be somewhere between 1365 and 1370. This is based on the annal’s mention of the supposed poisoning of King Eiríkr Magnússon in 1359, an accusation which has turned out to be false. The accusation was first presented in the Libellus de Magno Erici Regis, a work produced to justify the push for placing a foreigner on the Swedish throne, dated to 1365–​70.60 This, alongside other inaccuracies present in the chronology, form the basis of Haug’s dating. As mentioned above, the part of Laurentius saga which tells of the first 20 years of the life of Laurentius borrows heavily from Einarr’s annal. Minor changes appear in sentence structure, and some prepositions have been changed, the saga for instance informing us that Conradin flýði til Benevent after having been defeated by Charles of Anjou in 1268, while the annal gives the same information, with the wording “flýði í Benevent.”61 Such changes are to be expected as a consequence of subsequent rewritings of the saga, if not of the adaptation of this information from the annal into the saga itself. But apart from these minor differences, a rather more significant divergence of the saga from the text of the annal stands out. The following comparison between the two texts will hopefully shed some light on the provenance of Einarr’s annal. The saga version of events occurring during the first ten years of Laurentius’ life consistently supplies geographical or institutional clarifications when referring to ecclesiastical officials of the archdiocese of Nidaros. Einarr’s annal 58 59 60 61

Haug, “The Icelandic Annals as Historical Sources,” 266. Westin, “Årböcker,” 429–​37. This dating is based on the work itself containing information that it was written while Magnús Eiríksson was imprisoned. Haug, “The Icelandic Annals as Historical Sources,” 268. Biskupa sögur III, 222; Islandske Annaler, 258.

240 Aae mainly provides names while rarely adding any additional information, a divergence that represents an innovation originating as the text entered the saga narrative. A parallel comparison of the two texts show that Einarr’s annal consistently refers to the current head of the archiepiscopal see of Nidaros at any given time only as “the archbishop,” whereas in the saga, any denizen of this office is referred to as “archbishop of Nidaros.” For the year 1268, the saga recounts that “var vígðr herra Jón til erkibyskups til Niðaróss,”62 while the annal entry informs that “Vígðr Jón erkibyskup”.63 The same type of clarification has been added for the entry of the year before, where the subject is Jón’s predecessor, Hákon. The annal entry of 1274 tells of the demise of Archbishop Jakobus of Lund, whereas the saga further adds “í Danmörk” for clarification. There may of course be several explanations for these clarifying additions in the saga text. They may have been added because the intended audience of the saga was a wider one than the ecclesiastical circles in which we often find the annals, who we may assume were up to date on their colleagues within the archbishopric. The clarifications may also have been added at some point during the later transmission of the saga narrative. Information might become old and obsolete, and thus need to either be contextualized or discarded. The apparent familiarity with events and persons in the annal is however limited to the archiepiscopal see, as the bishops of its sub-​dioceses of for instance Bergen and Hamar are mentioned both in the annal and in the saga by their names as well as by their geographical or institutional affiliations. The battle between the royal brothers Eiríkr, Magnús and Valdemar during the fight for the Swedish throne in 1275, as well as the killing of the Norwegian Eilífr of Naustdal in 1277, are recorded in Einarr’s annal entries, but have not been included in the saga.64 By the time the narrative of Laurentius saga has reached the year 1278, the saga writer appears to be using a different annal as his historical source, as the two texts begin to diverge completely. The events mentioned in the saga now pertain mainly to Icelandic matters, whereas Lögmannsannáll in a year-​by-​year comparison goes on to record consecrations and deaths of bishops from all over the ecclesiastical province of Nidaros, alongside segments of European history. In its recollection of the year 1282, the saga again appears to draw from Lögmannsannáll, but provides an abridged version of the events which occurred in Nidaros that year: 62 63 64

Biskupa sögur III, 222. Islandske Annaler, 258. Eilífr of Naustdal appears in the Norwegian account of Hákon Hákonsson’s expedition against Scotland, as one of king Hákon’s loyal men. James Johnstone, trans., Sturla Þórðarson, The Norwegian Account Of Haco’s Expedition Against Scotland, ­chapters 18–​21.

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Lögmannsannáll: Brann bæir i Niðarósi. Herra Jón erkibyskop var landflótti ór Noregi fyrir konungsvaldi ok með honum Andres byskup ór Ósló ok Þórfinnr byskup af Hamri. θ Jón erkibyskup í Skörum í Gautlandi. Hyggja menn hann helgan.65 Laurentius saga: Þá enn á næsta ári brunnu bæir í Niðarósi. Andaðiz herra Jón erkibyskup austur í Skörum. Á sama ári varð hann landflótta af Nóregi.66 Comparing the annal to the information given in Laurentius saga provides hints as to which events have been deemed relevant in Einarr’s two works. The close familiarities that Einarr’s annal show with persons and events at the archiepiscopal see of Nidaros –​at times even reporting on weather phenomena in his annal –​is striking.67 It is possible that one of Einarr’s sources for his historical production may have been another annal, composed with events in the Nidaros archiepiscopal see first in mind. The idea that annal writers did in fact compile events from separate sources, or from a source written by several hands, is common, and seems evident in Einarr’s annal by his inconsistent orthography when reproducing certain proper nouns. Over the course of 24 mentions of the city which in modern Norwegian is called Bergen, the proper noun is at first rendered as ‘Biorguin/​Biorguiniar’ (dat./​gen.), and then increasingly as ‘Biorgwin/​Biorgwiniar’ (dat./​gen.), but the outliers ‘Byrgjon’ (dat.), ‘Byrgwiniar’ (gen.), ‘Biorghuin’ (dat.) and ‘Bergwiniar’ (gen.) also appear in the first ten leaves of the manuscript.68 Nidaros is, on the other hand, consistently spelled ‘Nidarose/​Nidaross’ (dat./​gen.) throughout. Additionally, this proper noun is most often found in an abbreviated form, with only two exceptions; one where the word appears in a rubric, and another where the word is broken up over two lines.69 65

“Homesteads burned in Nidaros. Master Jón the Archbishop was exiled from Norway by the King’s power, and with him Bishop Andres of Oslo and Bishop Þórfinnr of Hamar. Archbishop Jón died in Skarir in Götaland. Men regard him as holy.” Islandske Annaler, 260. 66 “In the next year homesteads burned in Nidaros. Master Jón the Archbishop died in the east, in Skarir. That same year he was exiled from Norway.” Biskupa sögur III, 230. 67 The entry for 1275 tells of a great hailstorm in “Þrenda logum” occurring on the feast day of St. Laurentius. Islandske Annaler, 259. 68 ‘Biorguin’ or ‘Biorguiniar’ appears 13 times, ‘Biorgwin’ or ‘Biorgwiniar’ appears 6 times, ‘Biorghuin’ appears twice and the other spellings appear one time each in Einarr’s annal. Storm, Islandske Annaler indtil 1578, 252–​77. 69 ‘Nidarose’ (abbreviated) appears 12 times in Einarr’s annal, while ‘Nidarose’ (dat.) and ‘Nidaross’ (gen.) appears once each in non-​abbreviated forms. Islandske Annaler, 253–​77.

242 Aae When taking his orthography into account, it is evident that Einarr worked from some source material, in line with an established European tradition of historical and semi-​historical writing. With the observations laid out above in mind, I will posit two possible explanations. The first is that Einarr had at his disposal an annal composed in Norway, possibly in Nidaros, as the annal entries up to the late 13th century are remarkably familiar with the officials and events of that city. Monks at one of the monasteries of Nidaros, or even the regular canons of the archiepiscopal see, would certainly have had the means and opportunity to keep or compose annals, although the amount of extant written material from this period is in general far scarcer in Norway than in Iceland. The silence of the sources should not be taken as definitive proof that there was no tradition for keeping annals in Norwegian monasteries, however. As pointed out by Eldbjørg Haug, a few Norwegian annal texts have been issued in Volume iv of Norges Gamle Love, and the Chronicle of Hamar may also represent a remnant of an annalistic tradition.70 The second possible explanation may be that the information available to Icelandic clerics regarding news from abroad inherently favored Nidaros, this owing to the fact that it was mandatory for both the Icelandic bishops to visit the archbishop, either in person or by envoy, every year.71 In any case, it is clear that the writer of Laurentius saga has carefully chosen parts of Einarr’s annal for inclusion in order to interest an Icelandic audience, and consequently filtered out unnecessary information about events happening in Norway or further abroad. In addition to potentially showing traces of a Norwegian annal tradition, the entries in Einarr’s annal highlight contemporary views on charters and charter production. In the previously mentioned annal entry in which Einarr implores the reader to pray for his soul, his mode of reaching out to his audience is significant. He uses the phrase lesandi eða heyrandi, which is a common phrase used in charters to address ‘all those reading or hearing’ their contents. As mentioned, the practice of addressing the general public in this way is generally regarded as a sign that charters, at least in their earliest stages, were meant to be read aloud, probably in front of witnesses.72

70 71

Haug, “The Icelandic Annals as Historical Sources,” 263, 265. Evidence of bishops fulfilling this requirement by way of sending an envoy are frequent in the surviving charter material, for instance in a charter of 1309, in which Bishop Árni sends a canon named Peter (Petrum, canonicum nostrum) in his place. In a charter of 1345, Archbishop Páll confirms that the canon Andreas (Andream Aslonis canonicum) has visited on behalf of the bishop of Stavanger. dn, 8:47; dn, 4:236–​37.” 72 Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record, 85.

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Whether Einarr meant for the annal entry to be read aloud in any type of public setting is uncertain. It has been commonly assumed that annals were created for the use of the monasteries and chapter houses in which they were created, as well as for other clerics or officials who might make use of them as historical sources.73 Einarr’s use of letter formulaics is uncommon, as is his tendency to identify himself as the author of his works. He does not represent a unique case within the Northern Icelandic Benedictine school in this respect, but by announcing himself through use of his annal, he is doing so in a medium through which other authors have not been known to reveal themselves. The inclusion of the letter-​phrase in the annal may imply that the formulaics were not part of such a rigid system of norms and standard procedures as one would expect, but rather tools that could be employed in diverse media. Additionally, the phrase ties into the intertextuality of these four sources which pertain to Einarr’s preoccupation with epistolary practices. At one point in Laurentius saga, the narrative includes a similar phrase, in a rare instance of the writer sharing his own opinion with his audience: “En því skulu þeir sem heyra þessa frásögn ‹hvárigan› fyrrsagðra byskupa lasta eða lýta í þessu efni”.74 Furthermore, Einarr’s annal records the arrival of correspondence from the archiepiscopal see, and the archiepiscopal letters’ inclusion into such a condensed narrative highlight them as significant.75 Annals sometimes constitute our only sources of evidence for certain charters having existed at all, such as a correspondence between Archbishop Eilífr and Bishop Laurentius regarding a dispute in Iceland.76 To include records of letters having arrived to Iceland is also not unique for Lögmannsannáll, and we may thus attribute this practice to the contemporary importance placed on such correspondence, rather than to Einarr’s pronounced preoccupation with epistolary practice. Charters which have survived both as physical charters and as entries in an annal, may also prove useful when investigating the chronology of annals.

73 74 75 76

Haug, “The Icelandic Annals as Historical Sources,” 265. “And yet should all those, who hear this account, by no means blame or speak ill of the aforementioned bishop [Jón Halldórsson of Skálholt] in this matter.” Biskupa sögur III, 425. Messengers, letters, and delegates on visitations arriving from Nidaros, as well as appeals sent to Nidaros, are recorded in the entries of 1175, 1232, 1316, 1317, 1328, 1329, 1335, 1341 and 1348 written in Einarr’s hand. Islandske Annaler, 253, 256, 266, 268, 271, 273, 277. Islandske Annaler, 396, 268.

244 Aae 4

Atburðr á Finnmörk

This short miracle story is found in the manuscript am 194 8vo, and its title comes from the manuscript’s 20th-​century editor.77 The terminus ante quem for this short narrative is 1387, as the compiler of the manuscript informs his audience that he completed the collection in this year.78 As the miracle story is said to have been proclaimed by Archbishop Ólafr of Nidaros, the terminus post quem of this particular narrative must be set to the spring of 1351, when Ólafr returned from his consecration in Rome to take charge of the archiepiscopal see.79 The manuscript is unassuming and poorly preserved, but consists of a collection of texts which represent a wide range of its compiler’s interests, including computus, geography, travel directions for pilgrims, Christian world history, law, hagiography, accounts of church councils and other catholic history, anatomy, medicine, as well as a range of texts translated from Isidore of Seville’s Origines.80 As an encyclopedic work, its subject matter suggests an ecclesiastical compiler, as does the fact that several works compiled in the collection are written in Latin. Kristian Kålund believes the compiler to have found his sources in the library of the canons at Helgafell, owing to the fact that the priest who has written large parts of the compilation, states that he wrote the book in “litlu stufunne a Geiradar eyre,” to which Helgafell was the closest institution. Although the compiler’s name appears encrypted in the manuscript, he nevertheless identifies himself as “Olafr prestr Ormsson.”81 The compilation ends with a translation of a 12th century work, De diversis artibus, containing instructions for the production of images of saints for the decoration of churches and altar pieces. Interestingly, this work opens with a greeting in the epistolary style, indicating that the interpolation of such formulaics was also employed in the continental tradition.82 Atburðr á Finnmörk is one of several such short texts found in am 194 8vo. It recounts the tale of a priest from Hálogaland in Norway who travels north to Finnmörk on a merchant ship. The priest sings Mass for the Christian men in his tent, and from the tent’s entrance, a heathen Finn observes the sacrament of the Eucharist during the Mass. The man, said to be skilled in heathen magic,

77 78

Alfræði Íslenzk, ed. Kålund, 57-​59. Leaves 1r-​36v:14, 37r-​48v, and 51v-​52v of the manuscript were written by the same hand in Western Iceland in 1387. The place and time is stated on leaf 33v of am 194 8vo. 79 Dybdahl, “Olav.” 80 Kålund, Katalog, xix–​xxxi. 81 Kålund, Katalog, xxx. and 54. 82 Veturliði Óskarsson, “Að mála upp á tré.”

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proceeds to have a vision of the infant Christ which causes him to fall into senselessness. It is not the story itself as much as the declaration of its own provenance that makes it interesting for this examination of charter practice and Norwegian administrative literacy. The miracle is said to have been proclaimed by the archbishop of Nidaros, to whom the priest had written about the miracle, and this was done alongside the ringing of bells and the singing of the Te Deum. The narrator states that this happened while Ólafr was archbishop, an office that he held from c.1350 to 1370.83 The miracle was then written down by Nikolaus Ólafsson, “klerkur af Niðarósi,” and sent to two brothers at Möðruvellir, Björn and Snorri, “í latinu.”84 As the brothers of the canonry are likely to have been proficient in Latin, this in itself is not particularly noteworthy. The narrator adds that this letter was then translated into the vernacular by “Einarr Hafliðason, officialis of the church of Hólar,” upon the request of the aforementioned Augustine brothers, in the year 1381. This information about the story’s provenance covers half a leaf in the manuscript, whereas the narration of the miracle itself is written across two leaves. A few things stand out in this miracle story that make it relevant to include alongside the other sources treated here. It describes three acts of writing, two of them transmitted over a geographical distance in the form of letters, and the third a translation.85 The epilogue following the miracle story seems to serve the purpose of validating the miracle, as well as explaining its provenance. The miracle was first written down by the priest, an eyewitness to the Finn’s seizure as well as to the explanation of his vision, having heard the story directly from the interpreter who was with them. He also strengthens his narrative with oaths (svardögum), presumably a list of the names of those who swore to have witnessed the miracle alongside him. The narrative does not mention seals having been attached to this written artefact, though such an omittance may simply indicate that their attachment was deemed obvious to contemporaries. Later, the miracle is said to have been proclaimed by the highest authority in the archiepiscopal see, namely the archbishop himself. This fact, placed alongside the ringing of bells and the singing of Te Deum, suggests that the miracle was proclaimed during Mass in the cathedral. The narrative presents the act by claiming that “let herra erkibyskup hana openbera.”86 This supports 83 84 85

86

Dybdahl, “Olav.” “Cleric at Nidaros”, “in Latin”, Alfræði Íslenzk, 59. One geographical transmission from the priest who experienced the miracle to the archdiocese, one geographical transmission from a clerk of the archdiocese to the brothers at Möðruvellir, and one translation from Latin into Norse by Einarr Hafliðason, as explored below. “The Lord Archbishop let it be proclaimed,” Alfræði Íslenzk, 59.

246 Aae the assumption that Archbishop Ólafr was leaving the act of proclaiming the miracle to a lower ranking cleric. This is reminiscent of the practice seen in Laurentius saga, where Laurentius’ proclamations get him in trouble, but also allow him to gain a position of prominence in the archbishop’s retinue. One might surmise that the proclamation of this miracle from Finnmörk then, accompanied by the ringing of bells at mass, would not be left to just any cleric among Archbishop Ólafr’s subordinates. The fact that the miracle is afterwards said to have been sent to Iceland by a named cleric further adds to its claims of validity, and raises questions of whether the two monks in Iceland would receive such texts from the archiepiscopal see for reasons of personal friendship with the aforementioned cleric, or for more conscious administrative or educational reasons on the part of the archiepiscopal see. It is also interesting that the two brothers at Möðruvellir appear to have outsourced the task of translation to Einarr, perhaps indicating that Einarr held greater proficiency in vernacular composition. Furthermore, Einarr not only identifies himself as a cleric versed in Latin, he refers to himself in the text as “Hólakirkju officialis,” which according to the annal information just reviewed and the charter which will be discussed below, confirms that Einarr held both the office of officialis, as well as that of steward.87 Identifying himself by his administrative office in this manner gives a hint to the importance he himself placed on his profession, and perhaps explains to readers why he, and not the brothers of Möðruvellir, has translated the story. According to information from several extant annals, Einarr had already been relieved as steward at this point, but stayed on as officialis until 1393, dying shortly after.88 5

Charter Issued at Hólar, 1341

Traditionally, the value of charters in the field of medieval history has been connected to the opportunities they present for the verification of historical events. Most preserved charters from the High and Late Middle Ages consist of records of transactions of land and other judicial agreements, but categories such as wills, papal decrees, court records, travel documents, and even personal letters are found among the collections of charters kept in archives all over Europe. Document-​making undoubtedly came to Scandinavia as part of an already established European tradition, facilitated by the arrival

87 88

“Officialis of the Hólar church.” Alfræði Íslenzk, 59. Islandske Annaler, 240, 280–​81.

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of Christianity, which brought with it both the practice of writing with ink on vellum, and the Latin script.89 Charters follow certain established conventions which make them easily recognizable as a document category, such as the formulaic inscriptio mentioned above, which we have already seen in use both in Einarr’s annal and in Laurentius saga.90 At the time of Einarr’s writing, in the last half of the 14th century, charters are already well established as authoritative documents in European literate society, although pragmatic literature appears later in Iceland than do other written sources.91 Erika Sigurdson, in her examination of administrative literature in 14th-​century Iceland, uses the example of Einarr to further her argument that Icelandic scribes of the 14th century would participate as much in administrative literacy as in the production of narrative texts. She points out that Einarr’s extensive involvement, not just as scribe but also as one of the most frequent witnesses found in the northern charters, shows that his administrative activities were an integral part of his scribal activities, as opposed to separate from or an afterthought to his narrative work.92 His preoccupation with seals and correspondence in his annal, coupled with the central roles that letters and letter-​making are given in Laurentius saga, show that he and his contemporaries were occupied with the difficulties inherent in this format, and that they in their writings problematized epistolary practice by contemplating many issues such as forgery, proclamation, material conservation, and validation. The number of surviving charters is nowhere as great in Scandinavia as in England or Southern Europe, but a fair amount of correspondence has also survived in the North. The charter examined in this passage was created at the Hólar episcopal see in 1341, and the scribal hand with which it was written has been identified as that of Einarr Hafliðason.93 While he is not necessarily the composer of the charter’s contents, it is evident that he played an active role in its creation. Einarr wrote several other charters that are still extant, and in a more extensive treatment of his works and life as a scribe, it would be necessary to bring these

89

In Anglo-​Saxon England, writs and charters appear as early as the seventh century. The oldest surviving Norwegian charters date to the early twelfth century, although correspondence intended for Norwegian kings exist in foreign archives from the mid-​eleventh century onwards. See Keynes, “Charters and Writs.” 90 Murphy, Rhethoric in the Middle Ages, 194–​269. 91 Erika Sigurdson, “Máldagabækur and Administrative Literacy,” 1–​2. 92 “Máldagabækur and Administrative Literacy,” 26–​27. 93 Stefán Karlsson, Islandske originaldiplomer, 18, cf. xxxiv.

248 Aae into the conversation.94 As the treatment of the charter in question consists of a close examination of its textual, paleographical and material aspects, I do not wish to cause injustice to the other charters by examining them less thoroughly. Because of the limitations of this chapter then, they have not been included. I do however encourage future research into Einarr’s life and works, as there is undoubtedly more to be discovered than what can be covered here. The charter in question is a long document which discloses the details of a case in which a farmer named Rafn has been accused, judged, and served a punishment for having unlawfully taken land belonging to the episcopal see of Hólar. He stands accused of encroaching upon episcopal lands under the governance of the bishop of Hólar, and of ignoring previously agreed upon property boundaries between his land and the neighboring church properties. This charter clearly represents the interests of the Hólar church and serves as evidence of what some of Einarr’s duties as officialis might have been, as well as who his associates were. The Hólar church is represented in the lawsuit by Bishop Egill Eyjólfsson, bishop of Hólar, and there are compelling reasons to believe that these proceedings were initiated by the bishop. The charter pre­ sents its dates in a similar way to Einarr’s birthday entry as seen in his annal, a practice that is typical for Icelandic charters, including those put to vellum by Einarr. Whereas most Norwegian charters from the same period –​many of which were also issued by clerics –​reckon the year by referring to the rule of the current king, the Icelandic scribes tend rather to date their charters in reference to Anno Domini (the year of the Lord, or A.D.).95 It also contains some paleographical peculiarities which are worth mentioning, and the scribal choices explored below may serve to elucidate aspects of its scribe and his place in society. The dedicatory statement, or invocatio with which the charter commences, “J Guds nafne Amen,” begins with a large initial. The letter ‘J’ only takes up the space of two lines, but is also placed inside the left margin, a choice of placement which serves to draw the eye of the reader and mark this as the beginning of the text. In line 26, an embellished ‘O,’ slightly larger in size than the other capitals used, serves to separate the end of the main text from the final paragraph, the dispositio, which contains information pertaining to the creation of the charter itself. Latinate aspects of the language such as the use of ‘Item’ to separate sections of the text, reveal the scribe as a man very much 94

The four other charters in question may be found in Islandske originaldiplomer: nr. 24, 26, 27 and 39. Nr. 58 may also have been written by Einarr, but this assumption is less secure than the other five. 95 Larsson, Svenska Medeltidsbrev, 56.

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familiar with Latin orthography. Further, use of the Christogram ‘Jħu xpi’ for ‘Jesus Christ’ demonstrates his familiarity with early Christian symbolism, or at the very least show the influence of continental manuscripts, or of Latinate elements in his writing. The contents of the document are laid out as follows: The first lines contain the customary salutatio, highlighted by many medieval writers as the most important aspect of the art of letter-​writing, although less common in Norse charters.96 Lines 3–​11 describe the argument which has necessitated the settlement, the evidence presented by both sides, and the judgement as adjudicated by the lawspeaker, priests, and laymen present. These men constitute a jury of six as required in many legal cases according to medieval Scandinavian law.97 Lines 12–​18 inform the reader or listener of the new border markings in some detail, including descriptions of land marks made during the previous border dispute, and any demands set out by the two parties during negotiations. Lines 19–​26 contain Rafn’s confession, a description of his release from the excommunication under which the bishop has placed him at the very beginning of their disagreement, as well as of his punishment. This punishment consists of fines payable to the Church and acts of charity towards the poor, to which Rafn commits. Lines 27–​29 contain information about seals and witnesses. Perhaps the most interesting part for this particular examination of the charter, is the section concerning the evidence brought forward by both parties, which shows a similar practice to that which is presented in Laurentius saga. In these lines, we see both physical and oral acts that serve to supplement and strengthen the written word. Rafn, the accused, presents his evidence first, and the charter makes no mention of which form his presentation takes. One may assume that he presented his case in the form of an oral statement or oath, perhaps including witnesses to his trustworthiness, as was custom in medieval law. In royally issued Norwegian laws valid at the time of the charter’s issue, compurgation had been systematized and standardized, and the practice was widely used in cases from the 14th century.98 Defendants and lawspeakers in Iceland employed the same processes in their legal procedures, to which repeated mentions of the swearing of oaths in Jónsbók, based in part on the aforementioned laws, testify.99 Rafn’s evidence is allegedly so poor in quality that the jury dismisses it outright, and the charter then moves on to describe Bishop Egill’s case. His first 96 97 98 99

Rhethoric in the Middle Ages, 194–​269. Halvorsen, “Dómr,” 214–​18. Rønning Nordby, The Judicial Oath in Medieval Norway, 51–​56. Jónsbók, ed. Ólafur Halldórsson.

250 Aae piece of evidence is preceded by the statement that he and Rafn had at an earlier date joined hands on a previous agreement, according to “opit bref skilrika manna þar um giort.”100 The bishop significantly has this letter read out publicly during the session at Þverá.101 The first piece of evidence thus consists of an oral agreement, strengthened by a physical act, verified with a written letter which is then read aloud in a public place, providing both proclamation as well as validation in the form of witnesses. This closely resembles the practice found in Laurentius saga, suggesting that Einarr probably based his saga account on lived experience when it came to the use of letters as evidence. The final piece of evidence presented by the bishop before the judgement is made, is a witness statement by two named men, Þorkell Magnússon and Sigurðr Bjarnarson. These were undoubtedly men who were considered trustworthy by the judges and others present, and who furthermore were considered to be in possession of relevant and reliable knowledge about the lands in question. Oaths are also employed in the settlement of this lawsuit, as the bishop meets one of Rafn’s demands by having two men swear to have the cuttings from disputed pasture grounds counted, as per the farmer’s request. Furthermore, oral acts of verification are seen in the part of the charter describing how Rafn receives and accepts his punishment. He firstly joins hands with the bishop, agreeing that he may deal with Rafn as he pleases in response to his crimes. He furthermore swears an oath never again to interfere with the lands of the Church, and to pay for his crimes according to the bishop’s wishes. The farmer in question is probably Rafn Jónsson, a powerful chieftain of Skagafjörður and farmer at Glaumbær, which is situated a mere 23 kilometers from Hólar as the crow flies.102 This assumption is based on the fact that Rafn is mentioned by name and patronym in a charter of 1340, which is probably the aforementioned writ read out by the bishop, as it details an earlier border agreement between the two men concerning the same lands as the presently discussed charter.103 If we are to accept the chronology of Einarr’s annal, Bishop Egill died later in that same year, a year that also saw an eruption of the volcano Hekla.104 The bishop’s obituary, which takes up 17 of the 26 lines that

100 “An open letter which trustworthy men had created about the matter.” Islandske originaldiplomer, 16–​18. 101 “hvertt herra biskup liet þar opinberliga vpplesa.” Islandske originaldiplomer, 16–​18. 102 Páll Eggert Ólason, Íslenzkar æviskrár, 2:372. 103 Islandske originaldiplomer, 10. 104 Even though the volcanic eruption may be dated accurately, Einarr may still have placed the event in the wrong year as he was recollecting these events. One may not be completely sure that his sources and/​or memory were good enough for him to accurately date

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constitute the entry for 1341 in Einarr’s annal, declares that he had been “hinn meste forsiomadr j andligum lutum ok veralldligum,” and furthermore that he at his death bed chose Einarr as the one who would anoint him.105 The entry goes on to praise the bishop’s charitable and pious ways, and lastly mentions how his property was divided into three parts after his death, where one part was given to the church, one to “worthy men,” and one to his successors.106 The idea that the bishop placed great importance on charity as part of the duty and penance of all Christians is reinforced by the conditions stipulated for Rafn after their lawsuit of 1341; he is to feed one pauper from his own food stocks for one year as part of his punishment, and in order to be released from excommunication. Rafn bóndi appears not to have been able to enjoy his peace from his legal adversary for long following the bishop’s death, however, as the entry for 1342 in Einarr’s annal goes on to state that “druknade Rafn Jons son i Þiors aa.”107 The parchment on which the details of this settlement are written contains holes for the attachment of twelve seals, ten of which have their straps still fastened. Unfortunately, none of the twelve seals that originally served to authorize the document have survived, though this is hardly unusual for this type of source. The first six of these seals probably belonged to the six men mentioned at the very beginning of the document, namely three priests by the names of Jón Koðransson, Þorvarðr Grímsson and Páll Þorsteinsson, the lawman Pétr Halldórsson, and the laymen Einarr Grímsson and Geirr Þorsteinsson. These six men testify to having been present at Þverá on 28 April, when the bishop and Rafn bóndi presented their evidence, and the terms and punishment were settled. They certainly formed the jury of six who adjudicated in the settlement, as it is stated in the charter that “sidan dæmdum ver fyrrnefndir men at bode herra biskups ok samdycke Rafns selshaga heilagre holakirkiu til æfinligrar eignar.”108 The judgement thus favored the Lord Bishop Egill and the Hólar episcopal see, but the charter continuously stresses the fact that Rafn has consented to everything that the bishop has bid them do or judge. It is also said of Rafn’s evidence that none of it made the jury of six or any other men present at

105 1 06 107 108

events 20 to 40 years after they had happened. Information about dating methods may be found in Sigurður Thorarinsson, Hekla, A Notorious Volcano, 14. “The greatest administrator in matters both spiritual and worldly”. Islandske originaldiplomer indtil 1450, 16–​18. “Fátækum mönnum”. “15” in Islandske originaldiplomer, 16–​18. “Rafn Jónsson drowned in the Þjórsá river.” Islandske Annaler, 273. “Later we, the aforementioned men, judged the property of Selshagi to be the eternal property of the Church of Hólar, at the bidding of the bishop and with the consent of Rafn.” Islandske originaldiplomer, 16–​18.

252 Aae Þverá believe it to be much of use to him when it came to any claim or ownership of the land which they were contending over.109 The last six seals must have belonged to the six men mentioned at the very end of the document, who testify to having been present at the time and place of the charter’s creation on the 30th of April in the same year. The gathering where these six were present took place at Hólar two days after the proceedings at Þverá, where the judgement had been made and the conditions of the agreement laid out. Among these six men testifying to the creation of the charter at Hólar, we find our scribe, Einarr Hafliðason, along with two other priests by the names of Þorvalðr Magnússon and Bauðvarr Guðmundarson, as well as the three laymen Brynjólfr Bjarnarson, Jón Þorleifsson, and Sigurðr Grímsson, the latter possibly a brother of the aforementioned two Grímssons. Interestingly, the bishop seems to have had no involvement in the creation of the charter, nor has he attached his bishop’s seal to testify to his doings. Due to these two separate groups of six having sealed the document, the word ‘seal’ is mentioned an unusual number of times in the last three lines of the document, firstly in the statement by the men who had been at Þverá, and then twice more after listing the men present at Hólar, who each “sin Jnsigle fyrir settu þetta bref med vorum Jnsiglum til styrktar ok vitnisburdar þessarrar giordar.”110 The emphasis on seals, which are normally only mentioned once in a charter, mirrors the preoccupation with seals and their importance which we have already noted in Laurentius saga. Jón Koðransson, the first of the clergymen mentioned, is a man whose father features both in the annals and in Laurentius saga, due to his attempt to gain the bishopric of Hólar for himself after the death of Bishop Jörundr in 1313.111 Jón himself is not mentioned in Einarr’s annal, but features with praise in Laurentius saga. He is said to be one of the priests who were given dispensations from Bishop Auðun after his feud with Koðran, along with Einarr Hafliðason and Páll Þorsteinsson, who is the third ecclesiastic mentioned in this charter. Jón is also in Laurentius saga said to have served as schoolmaster at Hólar during Bishop Auðun’s time.112 We may thus assume that three of the six priests who sealed the charter were of a similar age to Einarr, and

109 “En nefndr Rafn gat ecke prof ne skilrike synt þat er oss edr odrum skyrum monnum þar hiauerondum þætte honum gagna mega vm eign edr tilkall sagdrar Jarðar.” Islandske originaldiplomer, 16–​18. 110 “attached their seal to this letter, so as to strengthen and witness these proceedings with our seals.” Islandske originaldiplomer, 16–​18. 111 Biskupa sögur III, 315–​18. 112 Biskupa sögur III, 343.

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probably also his close associates in conducting the business of the Hólar diocese. They all appear to have served at first under Bishop Auðun, then under Bishop Laurentius, and at this point of time, in 1341, where we find them serving together under Bishop Egill. The priests Þorvarðr Grímsson and Páll Þorsteinsson, as well as the layman Brynjólfr Bjarnarson, were among the witnesses who attached their seal both to this charter and to the settlement of 1340, where Rafn bóndi and the bishop had first laid out the terms of their border agreement.113 They presumably served both as reliable witnesses to the doings of the first settlement, and as informed judges and witnesses in the current case. The charter is in itself a testament to Icelandic episcopal administration but makes no reference to the archiepiscopal see in Nidaros, as the subject matter is of a decidedly local character. Unlike the letters of ecclesiastical administration from the archbishopric, the worldly matters of the church and their disagreements with local laymen seem not to have warranted mention in the annals either. In Einarr’s annal, the entry for 1340 records that síra Kolbeinn died, and that Einarr himself succeeded him as steward at Hólar. The next year we get the aforementioned obituary of Bishop Egill and the statement that he chose Einarr Hafliðason to anoint him. Later on, in the rather long entry, the annal mentions that two messengers from Norway came to Iceland, one from Archbishop Páll, and one from the king. The annals of Skálholt however, preserved in am 420 a 4to and compiled by a scribe of the southern diocese, provide some information that the annals of the northern diocese does not, namely that “Síra Einarr Hafliða son skipaðr officialis fyrir norðan land.”114 Einarr’s annal corroborates this fact, but not in its entry for 1341. Only in his entry for 1375 does it state that “var sira Einar Haflida son officialis ok raads madr aa Hoolvm,” a fact which the annalist himself seems only to have remembered to include because the entry for the next year contains the information that “vard raads manna skipte at Hoolvm jn festo Clementis pape let sira Einar Haflida son laust en sira Þorsteinn Jonsson tok vid.”115 Einarr was then presumably relieved as steward in 1376 but kept his position as officialis. Included among the duties of the officialis were the research and enactment of those lawsuits appertaining to the power of the church, and Einarr was the 1 13 Islandske originaldiplomer, 10. 114 “Sir Einarr Hafliðason was made officialis for the northern country.” Islandske Annaler indtil 1578, 209. 115 “Sir Einarr Hafliðason was officialis and steward at Hólar.”; “There was a change of stewards at Hólar during the feast of pope Clement. Sir Einarr Hafliðason let go of the office, and sir Þorsteinn Jónsson took it up.” Islandske Annaler, 280–​81.

254 Aae officialis of Hólar from the year of the issuing of the charter discussed above, until the year of his death in 1293. The charter thus tells us which men took care of the lawsuit, the annals provide information about why these men in particular were in charge of the lawsuit, and further research tells us that the office of officialis was confirmed in a statute from 1327 by Archbishop Eilífr.116 Even though no explicit mentions of the archbishopric’s influence appear in the charter, nor in the entry of 1341 in Einarr’s annal, the charter testifies to what can be seen as direct results of Norwegian administrative literacy and from the narrative of Laurentius saga, we know that the composition and writing of this charter may not have constituted the full extent of the act which such a document represents. If Einarr was indeed representing the world as he knew it in his saga, he may have had to keep in mind several potential problems as he was creating charters for the Church at Hólar, such as accusations of forgery, the witnesses not having possession of their own seals, the physical preservation of the charter itself, and most certainly, the act of proclaiming the charter in the presence of those involved in the case, and in the presence of an appropriate number of witnesses. Interestingly, the charter of 1341 does not contain the letter phrase which he uses in his annal some decades later (“lesande edr heyrande”), but rather “gerom ver kunnikt.”117 Presumably the charter was still read aloud at the proceedings where it was created, or at some other public event, clearly and with authority, to secure that the agreement would be upheld by all parties who had heard it, as well as by all who had attached their seals. The variations found in charter formulaics further underline that these were tools to be employed according to the needs and wishes of a writer, and not rigid conventions which had to be present in order to secure the validity of a charter. 6

Conclusion

In this chapter I have shown how four texts that have been attributed to the priest Einarr Hafliðason refer to each other and employ each other as sources despite being of such different categories that they are today examined by scholars in different fields. Einarr exhibits remarkably free usage of charter greetings, which he has employed both in his saga and in his annal, while using a slightly different format in his actual charter. But even in this he is not unique, 116 This statute was referring back to earlier legislation by Archbishop Jörundr. “Erkesbiskop Eilifs fjerde Statut,” in Keyser, Munch, and Storm, Norges Gamle Love, iii:275–​77. 117 “We make known.” Islandske originaldiplomer, 16–​18.

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as this appears to have been a common practice of his time. In Jóns saga baptista, we find the greeting “Virðuligum herra Runolfi, abota i Veri, sendir Grimr prestr kveðju guds ok sína sanna vináttu,” demonstrating yet another example of epistolary culture infiltrating a saga composition, although this example is found in a prefatory letter preceding the saga.118 Einarr is thus following an established tradition in Icelandic ecclesiastical writing, although he seems to be consistently preoccupied with aspects of administrative literacy and epistolary practice. Laurentius saga provides the richest descriptions of 13th-​and 14th-​century charter practice by far, although it is also the source which is most likely to have been affected by rewritings, as well as by narrative freedoms taken by the writer. Although we may not consider all of its observations of Laurentius’ dealings with letters as historical, one may nevertheless draw important information about 14th century reflections on administrative and epistolary practices from them. The way in which Einarr presents charters and written documents in his saga provide useful insights into the author’s thoughts on, and anxieties about, these practices. The way in which he presents letter-​grabbers as villains, and emphasizes the value of loud and clear proclamation of a letter’s contents, may allude to insecurities in his time regarding the validity of letters, and could represent an attempt to instill a greater respect for the written word in its audience. It is stated in the preface to Laurentius saga that although it “might seem less useful” to compile events from annals and oral retellings as the writer has done, “er þó verra at heyra ok gaman henda at sögum heiðinna manna.”119 Whether he is posing as a humble author here, or merely condemning a trend of consumption of secular sagas among the people of Hólar is unclear, but it is possible that his saga is written for an audience which he deems in need of entertainment conveying good, Christian morals. Perhaps he also saw the need for good examples to be followed when it came to their treatment of charters? Although the archiepiscopal administration obviously plays a crucial role in the life of Bishop Laurentius, I have also attempted to show the extent to which Norwegian ecclesiastical administrative literacy appears in other works from Hólar in the 14th century, as well as how it has affected the texts that have been produced. Laurentius saga takes place both in Iceland and at the archiepiscopal see, and Einarr’s annal is careful to mention letters which have arrived 118 “[The priest Grímr [Hólmsteinsson, d. 1298] sends the honourable Lord Runolfr, abbot of Ver, God’s greeting and his true friendship”. Translation in Cormack, “Christian biography”, 33. 119 “It is yet worse to hear and clap one’s hands in joy at the tales of heathen men.” Biskupa sögur III, 216.

256 Aae from Norway, whether from the king or from the archbishop. The annal may even be based partly on sources from this particular milieu, considering its lack of information about Iceland in the entries which detail events predating the annalist’s birth. It is possible that the author merely had a greater interest in things happening outside of Iceland in general, having an ecclesiastical background and thus being more interested in the larger Christian world than what was happening on his own island. We know from Einarr’s annal that he travelled abroad.120 In the future, it might be fruitful to take a closer look at these sources in connection with the Icelandic and other Scandinavian annals, in order to ascertain whether there might have existed a well-​developed tradition for annal writing also in Norway during the High and Late Middle Ages. If Einarr’s source was indeed written in connection with the archiepiscopal see, the interest for European history which the annal shows seems further justified. The officials of Nidaros undoubtedly existed and participated actively in a continental context, if nothing else because of their subordinate connection to the Pope. The miracle story translated by Einarr once again attests to a market for Christian literature written in the vernacular in Northern and Western Iceland. Although his translation was the result of a plea from the brothers at Möðruvellir, and subsequently written down by a neighbor of Helgafell, links to the archiepiscopal see may be found also here, as he claims the story in its Latin form to have been written down and sent to Iceland by a canon of Nidaros. In Laurentius saga we may find praise of men who compiled collections of “sögubækr heilagra manna í norrænu máli.”121 The endeavor undertaken by the compiler of am 194 8vo containing the miracle story might have represented one such collection, although it consists not of saga narratives, but of other learned works. And finally, the charter detailing the property judgement produced at Hólar in 1341, predating all three narratives, shows how Einarr conducted his business for the bishopric as officialis, an office which the Nidaros ecclesiastical administration indirectly caused Einarr to hold. The responsibilities of officialis required him to produce charters, as well as receive them from the archiepiscopal see at Nidaros on behalf of the episcopal see at Hólar, and through examination of Einarr’s attitudes to epistolary practice as presented in his other works, the charter of 1341 may with the other three sources in mind also be read with the aim of elucidating epistolary culture.

1 20 Islandske Annaler, 274. 121 “Sagas of holy men written in the Norse language.” Biskupa sögur III, 333.

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Alfræði Íslenzk: Islandsk Encyklopædisk Litteratur. Vol. 1, COD. MBR. am. 194, 8vo. Edited by Kristian Kålund. Copenhagen: S.L. Møllers Bogtrykkeri, 1908. Biskupa sögur III. Edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Biskupa sögur, gefnar út af Hinu íslenzka bókmentafèlagi. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Guðbrandur Vigfússon, Þorvaldur Björnsson, and Eiríkur Jónsson. 2 vols. Copenhagen: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag, 1858–​78. Biskupa sögur. Edited by Guðni Jónsson. Vol. 3. Reykjavik: Íslendingasagnaútgáfan; Haukadalsútgáfan, 1953. Diplomatarium Islandicum: Íslenzkt fornbréfasafn, sem hefir inni að halda bréf og gjörninga, dóma og máldaga, og aðrar skrár er snerta Ísland eða íslenzka menn. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Jón Þorkelsson, Páll Eggert Ólason, and Björn Þorsteinsson. 16 vols. Copenhagen and Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1857−1972. Diplomatarium Norvegicum: Oldbreve til kundskab om Norges indre og ydre forhold, sprog, slægter, sæder, lovgivning og rettergang i middelalderen. Edited by Christian C. A. Lange, Carl R. Unger, H. J. Huitfeldt-​Kaas, Gustav Storm, Ferdinand Linthoe Næshagen, and Tor Ulset. 23 vols. Christiania/​Oslo: Kommisjonen for Diplomatarium Norvegicum, Norsk historisk kjeldeskrift-​institutt, Riksarkivet, 1847‒2011. Elton, Oliver (trans.). The Life of Laurence, Bishop of Hólar in Iceland (Laurentius Saga). London: Rivingtons, 1890. Islandske Annaler indtil 1578. Edited by Gustav Storm. Christiania: Det norske historiske Kildeskriftfond; Grøndahl og Søns Bogtrykkeri, 1888. Islandske originaldiplomer indtil 1450. Edited by Stefán Karlsson. 2 vols. Editiones Arnamagnæanæ. Series A 7. Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1963. Johnstone, James (trans.). Sturla Þórðarson, The Norwegian Account Of Haco’s Expedition Against Scotland, A.D. MCCLXIII. Reprint, Project Gutenberg; National Library of Iceland and Cornell University Library, 2006. Jónsbók: Kong Magnus Hakenssons Lovbog for Island vedtaget paa Altinget 1281, og Réttarbœtr: de for Island givne retterbøder af 1294, 1305 og 1314. Edited by Ólafur Halldórsson. Copenhagen: S.L. Møller, 1904. Repr. Odense: Odense Universitetsforlag, 1970. Magnus Lagabøters landslov. Translated by Absalon Taranger. Kristiania Universitetet, 1915. Norges gamle love indtil 1387. Edited by Rudolf Keyser, Peter Andreas Munch, Gustav Storm, and Ebbe Hertzberg. 5 vols. Christiania: C. Gröndahl, 1846−95. Regis Magni Legum Reformatoris Leges Gula-​Thingenses, Sive Jus Commune Norvegicum; Ex Manuscriptis Legati Arna-​Magnaeni cum interpretatione Latina et Danica, variis

258 Aae lectionibus, indice Verborum, et IV Tabulis aeneis. Edited by Grímur Thorkelín. Copenhagen: Rangel, 1817.



Secondary Sources

Árni Björnsson. “Laurentius saga biskups í ÍB 62 fol.” Gripla 8 (1993): 125–​30. Bynum, Caroline W. Jesus as Mother: Studies in the Spirituality of the High Middle Ages. London: University of California Press, 1982. Bynum, Caroline W. and Catherine M. Mooney (eds.). Gendered Voices. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2016. Böðvar Guðmundsson, Sverrir Tómasson, Torfi H. Tulinius and Vésteinn Ólason. Íslensk Bókmenntasaga. Reykjavik: Mál og Menning, 1993. Clanchy, Michael T. From Memory to Written Record: England 1066–​1307. Oxford: Blackwell, 1993. Cormack, Margaret. “Christian biography.” In A Companion to Old Norse-​Icelandic Literature and Culture, edited by Rory McTurk, 27–​42. Oxford: Blackwell, 2007. Dybdahl, Audun. “Olav.” In Norsk Biografisk Leksikon. https://​nbl.snl.no/​Olav. February 13th, 2009. Accessed November 30th, 2018. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. Introduction to Biskupa sögur III, edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Halvorsen, Eyvind Fjeld. “Dómr.” In Kulturhistorisk Leksikon for Nordisk Middelalder, vol. 3, 214–​218. Oslo: Gyldendal, 1958. Hamre, Lars. Innføring i diplomatikk. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1972. Haug, Eldbjørg. “The Icelandic Annals as Historical Sources.” Scandinavian Journal Of History 22, no. 4 (1997): 263–​74. Heffernan, Thomas J. Sacred Biography: Saints and Their Biographers in the Middle Ages. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992. Johansson, Karl G. “Texter i rörelse. Översättning, original textproduktion och tradering på norra Island 1150–​1400.” In Überzetzen im skandinavischen Mittelalter, edited by Vera Johanterwage and Stefanie Würth, 83–​106. Studia Medievalia Septentrionalia 14. Wien: Fassbaender, 2007. Johansson, Karl G. “The Learned Sturlungar and the Emergence of Icelandic Literate Culture.” In Snorri Sturluson and Reykholt. The Author and Magnate, his Life, Works and Environment at Reykholt in Iceland, edited by Guðrún Sveinbjarnardóttir and Helgi Þorláksson, 333–​88. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 2018. Jón Jóhannesson. Islands Historie i Mellomalderen. Translated by Hallvard Magerøy. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1969. Keynes, Simon. “Charters and Writs.” The Blackwell Encyclopaedia of Anglo-​Saxon England, eds. Michael Lapidge, John Blair, Simon Keynes, Donald Scragg. Oxford: Blackwell, 1999.

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Kålund, Kristian. Katalog over Den Arnamagnæanske handskriftsamling. Vol. 1. Copenhagen: Gyldendalske Boghandel, 1889. Laing, Gregory L. “Bound by Words: The Motif of Oath-​Taking and Oath-​Breaking in Medieval Iceland and Anglo-​Saxon England.” PhD thesis, Western Michigan University, 2014. Larsson, Inger. Svenska Medeltidsbrev. Stockholm: Runica et Mediævalia, 2001. Murphy, James J. Rhethoric in the Middle Ages. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1974. Páll Eggert Ólason. Íslenzkar æviskrár frá landnámstímum til ársloka 1940. 6 vols. Reykjavík: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1948–​76. Rohrbach, Lena. “Narrative Negotiations of Literacy Practices in Íslendinga saga and Hákonar saga Hákonarsonar.” In Sturla Þórðarson: Skald, Chieftain, and Lawman, edited by Jón Viðar Sigurðsson and Sverrir Jakobsson. The Northern World 78. Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2017, 285–​91. Rønning Nordby, Ole-​Albert. “The Judicial Oath in Medieval Norway: Compurgation, Community and Knowledge in the Thirteenth Century.” PhD thesis, University of Oslo, 2019. Sigurdson, Erika. “Máldagabækur and Administrative Literacy in Fourteenth-​Century Iceland.” Quaestio Insularis 13 (2013): 24–​41. Sigurður Þórarinsson. Hekla, A Notorious Volcano. Translated by Jóhann Hannesson and Pétur Karlsson. Reykjavik: Almenna bókafélagið, 1970. Skórzewska, Joanna. Constructing a Cult: The Life and Veneration of Guðmundr Arason (1161-​1237) in the Icelandic Written Sources. The Northern World 51. Leiden: Brill, 2011. Sverrir Tómasson, Selma Jónsdottir and Stefán Karlsson, eds. Helgastaðabók Nikulás Saga Perg 4to Nr. 16. Reykjavik: Lögberg Bókaforlag, 1982. Veturliði Óskarsson. “Að mála upp á tré.” Árbók Hins íslenzka fornleifafélags (1989): 21–​33. Vaagslid, Eivind. Norske Skrivarar i Millomalderen. Oslo: Private Publication: In commission at Universitetsforlaget, 1989. Westin, Gunnar T. “Årböcker.” In Kulturhistorisk Leksikon for Nordisk Middelalder, vol. 20, 429–​35. Oslo: Gyldendal, 1976. Whaley, Diana. “Miracles in the Sagas of Bishops: Icelandic Variations on an International Theme.” Collegium Medievale: Interdisciplinary Journal of Medieval Research 7 (1994): 155–​184.

chapter 11

Music and Manuscripts in Skálholt and Þingeyrar Gunnar Harðarson A juridical dispute between bishops Laurentius Kálfsson of Hólar, a Benedictine, and Jón Halldórsson of Skálholt, a Dominican, over the canonry at Möðruvellir in 1326–​1327 had its consequences. It spoiled their friendship, it humiliated the bishop of Hólar, temporarily at least, and it resulted in their sending delegates to the archbishop in Nidaros to defend their cases. Bishop Laurentius sent his confident, Síra Egill Eyjólfsson, and when Bishop Jón learned of this move, according to Laurentius saga, he also sent his own delegate, “the priest that he considered the best one in his bishopric, who was Síra Arngrímr Brandsson who resided at Oddi” (“prest þann sem hann helt fremstan í sínu byskupsdæmi, var þat Síra Arngrímr Brandsson er átti Oddastað”).1 When in Norway, the delegates were made to share a ‘loft’ (traditionally a small double storied log house where the upper floor extends over the first, a convenient feature in heavy snow) and became brotherly friends.2 From there, during the winter of 1327–​28, Síra Egill pursued his business with the archbishop. But, as Laurentius saga states, Síra Arngrímr “had other days, for he went daily to an organ-​master that resided in Trondheim from whom he learned how to make an organum; but he never took the Möðruvellir case before the archbishop.” (En síra Arngrímr hafði aðra daga því at hann gekk dagliga til eins organsmeistara er var í Þrándheimi ok lét hann svá kenna sér at gera organum, en aldri flutti hann fyrir erkibiskupi um Möðruvallamál.)3 For our purposes, the apparent lack of interest in canon law on the part of Síra Arngrímr is much more significant than the settlement of the case which was, in principle, quite simple: the canons of Möðruvellir had the law on their side, as Bishop Jón claimed, but they were spendthrifts, and Bishop Laurentius was not prepared to pay for irresolute financial transactions. The organ-​building, on the other hand, was news in itself, for Arngrímr did not only learn how to build an organ and play it, he brought it back to Iceland as the annals duly note for the year 1329.4 From a superficial reading of the 1 Lárentíus saga, ed. Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 412. 2 Many lofts have been preserved in Norway; for example, the one from Søndre Tveito in Telemark is dated c.1300, cf. Berg, Norske tømmerhus. 3 Lárentíus saga, 414. 4 Islandske Annaler indtil 1578, ed. Storm, 397.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_013

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saga and the annals one can get the impression that this was a private initiative of Síra Arngrímr. However, in light of the context, it is much more likely that it was at the initiative of Bishop Jón Halldórsson of Skálholt that Arngrímr acquired the organ which would have been meant to serve in the cathedral of Skálholt. It was probably decorated with paint, as is the preserved 14th century organ from Gotland.5 It must be taken into account that in early 1309 the bell-​tower of the cathedral had been hit by lightning resulting in the wooden church burning down and most of its belongings being destroyed, including books and ornaments; with the exception, however, of the shrine of St Þorlákr and a few other objects. Bishop Árni Helgason immediately set sail for Norway and returned in 1310 with wood for a new church and gifts from king and churchmen (possibly books and ornaments), and the cathedral was rebuilt from 1311 onwards. This was the largest cathedral built in Skálholt during the Middle Ages.6 The tower and parts of the new church were again destroyed, this time in a storm, in 1318. Thus when Bishop Jón Halldórsson arrived in 1323 we can assume that some work was still ongoing at the cathedral, and that the cathedral was still short of books and other necessary objects.7 Part of his task as a bishop must therefore have consisted in acquiring books, objects, and ornaments for his cathedral. Arngrímr’s journey to Norway is surely to be seen in this context: Bishop Jón wanted an organ for his cathedral for a modern and up to date performance of the Mass and the Office and, of course, for the performance of the Office of Saint Þorlákr in particular, whose shrine had miraculously escaped.8 In 1959, Róbert Abraham Ottósson demonstrated that the Office of Saint Þorlákr (Þorlákstíðir), contained in Reykjavik, The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies, am 241 a fol., is mostly based on the Office of St Dominic, and cannot be older than 1328 (possibly though 1334).9 Ottósson was convinced that it was the work of Arngrímr Brandsson although

5 The Sundre Church organ dates from 1370 and is today displayed in the Swedish History Museum in Stockholm. Árni Heimir Ingólfsson, in his Tónlist liðinna alda, suggests that the organ would have been a portative (small portable organ). However, if intended for use in the cathedral it might have been somewhat larger. 6 Hörður Ágústsson, Skálholt: Kirkjur, 280–​81. 7 As late as 1514, Bishop Stefán Jónsson obtained financial support from the abbey of Helgafell for the purposes of Skálholt with reference to the difficulties following the disasters, see Diplomatarium Islandicum (hereinafter di), 8:482, cf. Gunnar F. Guðmundsson, Íslenskt samfélag og Rómakirkja, 174. 8 On 4 April 1328, while Arngrímr stayed in Nidaros, the cathedral there was destroyed by a fire, see Danbolt, Nidarosdomen, 182–​94. 9 Róbert A. Ottósson, Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia rythmica; see also Jón Þórarinsson, Íslensk tónlistarsaga, 144.

262 Harðarson he saw our Dominican bishop as the main influence behind the composition of the Office.10 He would, however, not be sufficiently knowledgeable about the life of Saint Þorlákr to be able to compose the Latin text for the Office; that would have had to be an ‘inside job.’ As mentioned above, Arngrímr Brandsson stayed in Norway for two years, studying music (1327–​29). Arngrímr may have frequented the Dominican friary in Trondheim during his stay.11 At any rate, in 1357, when he resigned from his functions as abbot of the Benedictine monastery at Þingeyrar, he made a vow for entering the Dominican friary in Bergen. However, two archiepiscopal delegates, Brother Eysteinn Ásgrímsson and Síra Eyjólfr Brandsson, reinstated him as abbot of the Þingeyrar monastery. Apart from his possible involvement in the composition of the Office of Saint Þorlákr, both in regard to the music and the text, Arngrímr Brandsson is considered to be the author of a number of literary works. For two of them the attribution is relatively certain. The first is the poem Guðmundar drápa (also called Guðmundar kvæði), a poem recounting the life of Bishop Guðmundr the Good, composed in 1345. The second is the life of Bishop Guðmundr in prose, usually titled Guðmundar saga D, a work that is considered to be either a translation of a Latin work or the preparation for a Latin translation. He has also been suggested as the author of Thómas saga erkibyskups II, and possibly of Jóns þáttr byskups Halldórssonar, as well as Clári saga and those parts of Íslenzk ævintýri considered by Gering to have been written by editor α. Recently, his name has been mentioned in connection with Mörtu saga ok Maríu Magdalenu, and other possible texts.12 How can we gather a general picture of Arngrímr Brandsson’s career, if he was both –​as is generally accepted –​a priest in the service of Bishop Jón Halldórsson in Skálholt, an officialis of the episcopal see of Hólar, and an abbot of the Benedictine house of Þingeyrar? How are we to understand his relations with the different religious orders of Augustinian canons, Benedictine monks, and Dominican friars with which he seems to have been associated and which seem to be characterized by a surprising degree of mobility? And what can it tell us about his involvement with literary culture in Skálholt, Hólar and Þingeyrar? The first part of this chapter is dedicated to mapping out the

10 11 12

It should be noted, however, that Bishop Michael of Skálholt (1382–​91) and Bishop Vilchin of Skálholt (1391–​1406) were also Dominicans, cf. Gisela Attinger, “Some Reflections on the Liturgy for St Þorlákr” in this volume. Jón Þórarinsson, Íslensk tónlistarsaga, 145–​46. Johansson, “Bergr Sokkason och Arngrímr Brandsson –​översättare och författare i samma miljö”; Stefán Karlsson, “Icelandic lives of Thomas à Becket”; van Deusen, “The Dominican Connection.”

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different stages of the career of Arngrímr Brandsson, based on the occurrence of his name in the sources, while the second part looks at his possible connection with texts and manuscripts associated with the two cultural centers of Skálholt and Þingeyrar. 1

Cathedral Priest, Organ Builder and Secular Cleric

Scholars have previously conceived of Arngrímr Brandsson as having become a Benedictine monk at Þingeyrar, possibly as early as 1341 when he is reported to have entered a monastery that is unidentified in the sources.13 It is, therefore, disputed if he is to be identified with the Brother Arngrímr who was taken to correction in the canonry of Þykkvibœr in 1343.14 It is generally accepted, however, that Síra Arngrímr of Oddi and Abbot Arngrímr of Þingeyrar are one and the same person. There are, nonetheless, some unclarities and inconsistencies in these accounts. To take only one example, Brother Arngrímr became officialis of Hólar during the bishop’s absence in 1347–​51 and was subsequently ordained abbot of Þingeyrar in 1351. It is a priori unlikely that this office would have been entrusted to an ordinary Benedictine monk who would then have been his abbot’s inferior as a monk and, at the same time, his superior as officialis. An ordinary monk is subject to monastic discipline but an officialis is second only to a bishop and more senior than an abbot. In short: the status of the officialis of Hólar is not consistent with the status of an ordinary Benedictine monk. It is therefore important to review and reassess what the sources have to say about Arngrímr Brandsson. The first mention of Arngrímr Brandsson is in connection with the mission to Norway in 1327. The annals note for this year that “Jon byskup sendi sira Arngrim sinna vegna.”15 Laurentius saga may be taken to assume that Arngrímr already was in possession of Oddi when he went on the mission to Norway, but the annals are quite clear, they attribute his residence at Oddi to the year 1334: “Gefinn Odda staðr sira Arngrimi.”16 As Síra Arngrímr was in Jón Halldórsson’s view the ‘best priest in the bishopric’ we can assume that

13

Gunnar Finnbogason, “Var bróðir Eysteinn í Þykkvabæhöfundur Lilju?”; Guðbrandur Jónsson, “Arngrímur ábóti Brandsson og bróðir Eysteinn Ásgrímsson”; Jón Helgason, introduction to Byskupa sögur: MS. Perg. fol. no. 5; Stefán Karlsson, “Icelandic lives of Thomas à Becket”; Ásdís Egilsdóttir, “Arngrímr Brandsson.” 14 Cf. Lárentíus saga, 412, n. 1; Gunnvör S. Karlsdóttir, Guðmundar sögur biskups. 15 Islandske Annaler, 397 (1327) and 268 (1329). 16 Islandske Annaler, 207 and 349.

264 Harðarson the bishop had him in his service at the cathedral and, therefore, that Síra Arngrímr probably resided at Skálholt, during the first years of Bishop Jón’s office; indeed, Arngrímr may have received the Oddastaðr in 1334 as recompense for his services for Bishop Jón Halldórsson, which would have been quite unlikely if he had neglected his mission as Laurentius saga seems to imply. He probably had another mission as well: that of procuring an organ for the cathedral of Skálholt and of composing the Office of Saint Þorlákr on the basis of that of Saint Dominic. During the period 1323–​34 Síra Arngrímr was therefore, probably, a priest in the cathedral of Skálholt, sent by his bishop to Norway for two years on a special mission (1327–​29). The necessary qualities for such a mission would have been fluency in Latin and excellence in music. Mass and Office were sung in Latin and a priest at the cathedral who had talent for both would have been held in good esteem by the bishop who was himself a fluent speaker of Latin. From 1334 to 1341 Síra Arngrímr resided at Oddi as a secular cleric. Although the manor of Oddi had become an episcopal beneficium in the late 13th century it was usually given to people of the Oddaverjar-​family. However, the power over the beneficium remained with the bishop. Thus, Grímr Hólmsteinsson, priest of Oddi in 1274–​84 and author of a Jóns saga baptista, was of the Oddaverjar-​ family, and some later priests at Oddi were also of this family, up to the mid-​ 14th century. Arngrímr must have known the place well, for in his Life of Bishop Guðmundr he recounts his memory of having as a child fetched water, consecrated by Bishop Guðmundr, for an old woman who had once accompanied Guðmundr at his stay in Oddi in 1220, and who used it to ease pain in her eyes. At the farm Keldur, not far from Oddi, there still is a well, Maríubrunnur, that contains water, consecrated by Bishop Guðmundr, which is said to be good for treating eye-​disease. Possibly, therefore, Arngrímr was on familiar ground when he became priest at Oddi. Arngrímr is thought to have been born and brought up at Skógar undir Eyjafjöllum. How could he become a priest at the main residence of the Oddaverjar? In the introduction to his Guðmundar saga, Arngrímr gives a description of the geographical qualities of what he calls “the land that books name Thile but Norsemen call Iceland.” He continues by developing an interpretation of the name in the following way: Má þat ok vel segjast eiginligt nafn þeirrar eyjar, því at þar er íss ínóg bæði lands ok lagar. Á sjánum liggja þeir hafísar, at með sínum ofvægiligum vexti taka þeir at fylla norðrhöfin, en yfir háfjöll landsins svo óbæriligir jöklar með yfirvættis hæð ok vídd, at þeim mun ótrúligt þykkja, sem fjarri eru fæddir. Undan þeim fjalljöklum fellr með atburð stríðr straumr með

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frábærum flaum ok fúlasta snyk, svo at þar af deyja fuglar í lofti, en menn á jörðu eða kvikvendi. Þau eru fjöll önnur þess lands, er ór sér verpa ægiligum eldi með grimmasta grjótkasti, svo at þat brak ok bresti heyrir um allt landit, svo vítt sem menn kalla fjórtán tylftir umbergis at sigla réttleiði fyrir hvert nes. Kann þessi ógn at fylgja svo mikit myrkr forviðris, at um hásumar um miðdegi sér eigi handa grein.17 Even if Arngrímr does not understate anything in his description, the impression is that he is describing conditions that he knows by experience. The glacial river is evidently Jökulsá á Sólheimasandi, locally nicknamed ‘Fúlilækur’ which is almost literally rendered in the description, and the volcanic eruption could be the eruption of Hekla in 1341 which Arngrímr himself witnessed at first hand. These descriptions strengthen the hypothesis that Arngrímr was a southerner and possibly from Skógar, which is only around 10km from Sólheimasandur. If it is assumed that he was the son of Brandr at Skógar his relations with the family of Oddaverjar emerge, for his great grandmother, Solveig Jónsdóttir, was of that family. In addition, her brother, Brandr Jónsson (d. 1264), was the abbot of the Augustinian canonry at Þykkivibœr and later became bishop of Hólar. Thus, Arngrímr can both have been brought up at Skógar and be considered to belong to a branch of the Oddaverjar family. 2

Unruly Canon Regular

From being a well-​off secular cleric at Oddi, where he resided for about six years, Síra Arngrímr, for some reason or other, converted to the apostolic life and entered a religious house. Annals note for 1341: “sira Arngrimr geck j 17

Biskupa sögur, ed. Jón Sigurðsson et al., 2:5. A tentative English translation could be: That may well be said to be the proper name for that island, for there is ice there aplenty, both on land and sea. On the sea there are ice drifts that with their huge size can fill up the northern seas, and on the high mountains of the land there lie unseemly glaciers of such overbearing height and width, that those born in distant climes would think them unbelievable. From beneath these mountain glaciers there run streams with such a surpassing force and foul smell that birds die of it in the air, and men and animals on the ground. Other mountains of this country vomit forth a terrifying fire with such a fierce ejection of stones that the breaking and cracking is heard all over the country, so widely as people call fourteen twelve-​miles, sailing around the country straight by each ness. Such darkness can accompany these terrors that at noon in midsummer the difference between one’s own hands cannot be seen, standing with the wind at one’s back.

266 Harðarson klaustur.”18 It has generally been assumed that Arngrímr must have entered the Benedictine monastery of Þingeyrar, for the reason that he later became abbot of that monastery. However, there is no direct evidence for this assumption. Arngrímr served as officialis of Hólar during the absence of Bishop Ormr Ásláksson in 1347–​51, before he became abbot of Þingeyrar, and it is not likely, for strictly hierarchical reasons, that an ordinary monk at Þingeyrar would have been assigned this office. Rather, the office would only have been trusted to a close confident of the bishop, his principal cleric and collaborator at Hólar. It is a priori improbable that the foremost priests in the bishopric of Hólar and the abbots of the monasteries of Þingeyrar and Munka-​Þverá would have conceded this office to an ordinary monk who was not familiar with running the episcopal see of Hólar. The person who acted as officialis was the “highest representative of the bishop and his right hand in most matters … He was entrusted with the supervision of the finance of the churches and the mores of the priests, the provosts and the general people, and settled disputes or nominated juries on behalf of the bishop.”19 In addition, the officialis was “permitted to ride through the lands accompanied with six men. If this is used as a criterion, he came next to a bishop, the governor and the magistrates in status.”20 It is clear that this function is not consistent with that of a monk under monastic discipline of another superior, abbot, or prior. It must then be concluded that the monastery that Síra Arngrímr entered in 1341 was not the monastery of Þingeyrar. If Arngrímr never travelled from Oddi to Þingeyrar in order to become a Benedictine monk, the conjecture that Arngrímr instead entered the canonry at Þykkvibœr, where his great uncle had served as abbot, needs to be taken seriously. There was already, in the time of Síra Grímr Hólmsteinsson, a connection between Oddi and Þykkvibœr, since Síra Grímr wrote his Jóns saga baptista for Abbot Runólfr of Þykkvibœr, who is mentioned as the translator of Ágústínus saga. The canons of Þykkvibœr were renowned scholars in the late 13th century and three of them became bishops: Abbot Brandr Jónsson became bishop of Hólar, canon Árni Þorláksson became bishop of Skálholt, and canon Jörundr Þorsteinsson became bishop of Hólar. Abbot Brandr is credited with the translation of Alexanders saga and Gyðinga saga, and with a part of Stjórn whereas the other two were well versed in canon law. As is well known, a Brother Arngrímr is mentioned in connection with the canonry 18 19 20

Islandske Annaler, 352. –​The word ‘klaustr’ does not distinguish between houses of the different orders. Gunnar F. Guðmundsson, Íslenskt samfélag og Rómakirkja, 140. My translation. Íslenskt samfélag og Rómakirkja, 141.

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of Þykkvibœr in 1343. In fact, in the autumn of 1343, the recently consecrated bishop of Skálholt, Jón Sigurðsson (1343–​48), on his way from Reyðarfjörður to Skálholt, is said to have taken Brother Arngrímr and Brother Eysteinn at Þykkvibœr ad correctionem for having beaten up Abbot Þorlákr and to have lived dissolute and depraved lives, some of them even begetting children; other annals add a third brother, Magnús, to the gang. It is further mentioned that the bishop had both Arngrímr and Eysteinn placed in chains.21 Some scholars have found it incredible that the unruly canon in Þykkvibœr could be the same person as the foremost priest of Bishop Jón Halldórsson. But it could well be the case. The authors of the annals would not have noted the names of unknown brothers; rather, the fact that renowned persons such as Brother Eysteinn and Brother Arngrímr were humiliated in this way would have been of interest. That same year, Bishop Ormr Ásláksson is supposed to have placed three brothers at Möðruvellir in chains but the authors of the annals have not found a reason to retain their names. It is, perhaps, not a coincidence that we have here the names of two poets who are known to have propagated a clear and direct religious poetry, Brother Eysteinn and Brother Arngrímr, the authors of Lilja and of Guðmundar drápa, who make it explicitly clear in their poems that they do not follow the old poetic traditions of the Edda.22 But there is more to it than that. If Arngrímr’s great grandmother was the sister of Abbot Brandr Jónsson of Þykkvibœr, there were family ties between Arngrímr’s family and the Þykkvibœr abbots, and, therefore the more likely that Arngrímr would have entered this monastery rather 21

22

1343: “Jtem þa kom ok vt Jon byskop Sigurdar son. tok hann Arngrim ok Eyrstein ad correccionem. brædr j Vere j Þyckkuabæ. fyrir þat er þeir bordu aa Þorlake abota sinum. var Arngrimr settr j taajarn. en Eyrsteinn j hallsiarn. Jtem degraderade hann systur j Kirkiubæ vm paua blasphemiam. ok sidan var hon brend. Jtem Ormr byskop hafde ok j vblidu brædr aa Modruuollum. ok kastade suma j myrkua stofu.” (Also, Bishop Jón Sigurðarson then came to Iceland too. He took Arngrímr and Eysteinn, brothers in Ver in Þykkvibœr, ad correctionem for having beaten their abbot, Þorlákr. Arngrímr was put in a toe-​iron but Eysteinn in a neck-​iron. Also, he degraded a sister in Kirkjubœr for blasphemy against the pope and later she was burned. Also, Bishop Ormr had grudges against the brothers at Möðruvellir and threw some of them in a dungeon.) Cf. “Jonn byskup fangadi Arngrim Eystein ok Magnus brædr i Þyckua bæ fyrir þat er þeir hofdu bart a Þorlaki abbota sinum. þeir vrdu ok opinberir at saurlifi sumir at barn eign. var Arngimr settr i taa iarn enn Eysteinn i hals iarn. Hola byskup fangadi .iij. brædr a Modru vollum ok iarnadi fyrir þær sakir hann gaf þeim.” (Bishop Jón imprisoned Arngrímr, Eysteinn, and Magnús, brothers in Þykkvibœr, for having beaten their abbot, Þorlákr. They were also exposed for fornication, some fathering a child. Arngrímr was placed in a toe-​iron but Eysteinn in a neck-​ iron. The bishop of Hólar imprisoned three brothers of Möðruvellir and put them in irons for offenses he charged them with.) Islandske Annaler, 274 and 402. Vésteinn Ólason, Íslensk bókmenntasaga, 2:299.

268 Harðarson than one in a different diocese. Also, when Arngrímr travelled to Norway for Bishop Jón Halldórsson in 1327, he carried a letter from abbot Þorlákr at Þykkvibœr, who previously had been appointed as a judge in the Möðruvellir case.23 Arngrímr therefore knew Abbot Þorlákr beforehand. And, as can be seen from Laurentius saga there were many different reasons why disputes arose concerning the management of abbeys and monasteries, no less than between the canons of Nidaros Cathedral and the archbishop. Life in a canonry or cloister was not always a peaceful and easy one. According to canon law various disagreements with an abbot could be equaled with beating, such as arguing with him or if the abbot fled the monastery.24 These are examples of disobedience to a superior. Therefore, the stories about the beating of the abbot may be exaggerated, for other sources only state that for various reasons there was disagreement between the abbot and the brethren of Þykkvibœr (Dissentio … ob diversas causas) with the consequence that Abbot Þorlákr left the monastery in 1342 and spent the winter of 1342–​43 in the abbey of Viðey on the advice of Sigmundr officialis in Skálholt.25 The rapid measures taken by Bishop Jón Sigurðsson suggest that the abbot or the offiicialis managed to complain to the archbishop and the canons of Nidaros. What happened next is not clear, for the sources are silent. There is the hypothesis that the unruly canons of Þykkvibœr were transferred to Skálholt and then to the monastery of Viðey that was, on 21 March 1344 for no apparent reason, changed from Augustinian to Benedictine rule by Bishop Jón Sigurðsson when six monks were consecrated and Sigmundr Einarsson (probably the former officialis of Skálholt) installed as prior.26 We only know that in 1345, as stated in the poem, Arngrímr composes a drápa in honour of Bishop Guðmundr the Good when Bishop Ormr Ásláksson of Hólar (1343–​56) had the saint’s bones elevated in order to be enshrined.27 One can assume that both the bishop and the poet were present in the cathedral of Hólar on 16 March 1345, the feast day of Bishop Guðmundr, when Guðmundar drápa would have

23 Or a letter co-​written by the bishop and the abbot. Lárentíus saga, 412. 24 Lusset, Crime, châtiment et grâce, 124–​25. See also Jón Halldórsson’s Bannsakabréf (Statute on Excommunicable Deeds) from 1326 on violence inflicted on clerics or monks (di, 2:582–​94). 25 Islandske Annaler, 209. 26 Islandske Annaler, 210 and 352. The disposition was revoked by Bishop Gyrðr in 1352, see Islandske Annaler, 355. For a discussion see the previously mentioned articles by Gunnar Finnbogason and Guðbrandur Jónsson. 27 The poem states (stanza 47) that 108 years have passed since the Bishop’s death in 1237, which yields the date 1345. Biskupa sögur, ed. Jón Sigurðsson et al., 2:198.

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been recited. One problem with all this is that there seems to be no particular reason that explains why the chained canon of Þykkvibœr found himself in the service of the bishop of Hólar. But perhaps there is. It seems that Bishop Ormr was bent on continuing the work that his predecessor, Bishop Auðunn ‘the red’ had started, to secure the economic foundations of the cathedral by having Bishop Guðmundr recognized as a saint. The Guðmundar drápa by Brother Arngrímr is unambiguous: “Ormr biskup veldr þeiri forman,” it says: it is the bishop who has the initiative of elevating the bones of Guðmundr and intends to place them in a shrine. One could risk the conjecture that in order to convince his superiors, Bishop Ormr had the vita and miracula of Guðmundr written, first in the vernacular by a knowledgeable person, Bergr Sokkason, and then in a Latin translation. Who would have sufficient command of Latin in order to be able to write a story that would convince the pope in Avignon? Even if Bergr was a ‘good versificator’ it is not evident that he was the right person to write a vita and miracula in prose. Bishop Jón Halldórsson was famous for his Latin and one would assume that his ‘best priest’ would not have been much lesser a Latinist than himself. Assuming that Brother Arngrímr was an able Latinist, the explanatory hypothesis is then that he was invited to Hólar in order to translate or rewrite the vita and miracula of Bishop Guðmundr the Good in Latin. Possibly, even, Bishop Ormr and Arngrímr knew each other from Norway. As a southerner, Arngrímr may not have had sufficient knowledge of the story of Guðmundr so, first, there had to be an account of his life written in the vernacular (the Guðmundar saga C, by Bergr Sokkason, if it was not already available), which could form the basis for his own account in Latin.28 As is well known, the geographical introduction and many Latin words in the Guðmundar saga of Brother Arngrímr have prompted the conclusion that his saga (the Guðmundar saga D) is a retranslation into the vernacular of his own previous Latin narrative. Bergr Sokkason’s reward for the saga might then have been his reinstatement as abbot of the Benedictine monastery of Munkaþverá, but Arngrímr Brandsson became the assistant of Bishop Ormr at the cathedral of Hólar, a function he had already fulfilled in Skálholt during the time of Bishop Jón Halldórsson.

28

Bergr’s saga is referred to in stanza 42 in Arngrímr’s poem (“Bergr ábóti hefir birtan margan /​biskups heiðr í máli greiðu,” Biskupa sögur, ed. Jón Sigurðsson et al., 2:197), so it has been written before 1345. In his introduction to Den tredje og fjærde grammatiske Avhandling, lxxix, Björn M. Ólsen seems to assume that the reference was not to a saga but to a poem by Bergr.

270 Harðarson 3

Cleric and Administrator

During his time in office, Bishop Ormr was in continuous dispute with his clergy and continually on the move. Only two years after he entered his functions as Bishop of Hólar he was off to Norway. Bishop Ormr stayed in Norway during the winter of 1345–​46 on business with the archbishop of Nidaros. In March 1346, we find a Brother Arngrímr present in Lyng in Verdal in the Trondheim region, sent there by the canons of the abbey of Helgisetr in Nidaros.29 It is, of course, far from certain that the Brother Arngrímr of Helgisetr is identical with Brother Arngrímr of Þykkvibœr, but the temporal sequence in the sources fits perfectly: there is no other ‘Brother Arngrímr’ around at the same time. The possibility is therefore, that our Arngrímr accompanied Bishop Ormr to Norway in 1345 where he would have been on familiar ground from his stay there in 1327–​29 when he built the organ and presumably composed the Office of Saint Þorlákr. If so, both are duly back in Iceland in the autumn of 1346. This fact can be established by the observation that Brother Arngrímr is a witness in a charter, issued by the bishop at the monastery of Þingeyrar on 7 October 1346.30 This is the first time they are both mentioned together after Bishop Ormr returns from the voyage to Norway. Brother Arngrímr is also mentioned in another charter concerning transactions of property in Skagafjörður on 2 November 1346. They seem to be travelling together on business for the see of Hólar. Both charters are written in the same hand. Stefán Karlsson considered it a possibility that they were written by Brother Arngrímr since he is the only person, apart from Bishop Ormr, who is mentioned in both charters.31 It seems, therefore, safe to say that Brother Arngrímr has, at the very latest by autumn 1346, become a secretary of Bishop Ormr Ásláksson and works with him as his closest assistant at the cathedral of Hólar. Their collaboration may even go back to 1344 since it would have been necessary for Brother Arngrímr to have arrived at Hólar by autumn 1344 if he was to be able to write the Latin vita et miracula of Bishop Guðmundr and compose and deliver the Guðmundar drápa at Hólar in March 1345. This means, however, that Brother Arngrímr may not have resided in a monastery during this period, even if he was a witness in a charter written at the monastery of Þingeyrar in 1346. His testimony to the transaction would be derivative of his status as the bishop’s cleric, not as a monk, for he is the confidential assistant of the bishop, soon to become his officialis for the see of Hólar. Bishop Ormr went to Norway for 29 30 31

Diplomatarium Norvegicum, 5:143–​44 (nr 185). di, 2, nr 519, cf. Islandske originaldiplomer, ed. Stefán Karlsson, 415 (App. 4). di, 2, nr 518; cf. Islandske originaldiplomer, xxvi and 23 (nr 21).

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the second time in 1347 and stayed for four years. During this time Arngrímr seems to have been his official representative, for, in 1351, Arngrímr is mentioned as officialis in a charter made at Miklibœr in Skagafjörður and must therefore have been in this function since the departure of Bishop Ormr in 1347. The possibility that Brother Arngrímr was in the service of Bishop Ormr by late 1344 and at least by early 1345, the fact that he is a witness in documents issued by the bishop in late 1346, and that he becomes officialis of Hólar in 1347 compels us to place him, not in the Benedictine monastery of Þingeyrar, but at the cathedral of Hólar, at least in the period 1346–​51. If the Latin original of Guðmundar saga by Arngrímr Brandsson was written in 1344–​45, it would thus have been written at Hólar and not at Þingeyrar.32 Incidentally, it may be pointed out that, in 1349, while Arngrímr is officialis at Hólar, Brother Eysteinn is elected officialis in the see of Skálholt during the absence of Bishop Gyrðr who did not arrive in Iceland until 1352.33 In 1349–​51 the two unruly canons (and poets), Brother Eysteinn and Brother Arngrímr, thus have moved from being under arrest in Þykkvibœr to become two of the highest placed churchmen in Iceland. 4

Benedictine Abbot and Promised Dominican

Having served as officialis for four years, from 1347 to 1351, Brother Arngrímr became abbot of Þingeyrar. The annals state for the year 1351: “Vtkvoma Orms byskups j Hvalfirdi. var hann at Þingeyrum at Laurencius messo og vigdi þar brodr Arngrim til abbota.”34 The consecration is supposed to have taken place on Wednesday 10 August 1351. The best cleric of Jón Halldórsson in Skálholt in 1327, organ player and composer, poet and saga writer, has become abbot of Þingeyrar in 1351, in the diocese of Hólar, the ancient bishopric –​and indeed the very monastery –​of Bishop Jón’s friend and opponent, Laurentius Kálfsson. Thus, we can place Brother Arngrímr with certainty at the monastery of Þingeyrar in 1351, but not until then. But how was this possible? How could a former secular priest and a disobedient regular canon become the abbot of a Benedictine monastery? Does the fact that he was consecrated as abbot in 32

33 34

The author of the saga identifies himself as ‘Brother Arngrímr,’ but the author of the verses is identified either as actor or as ‘herra Arngrímr,’ perhaps indicating that the copy was made after he became officialis (or abbot), since he is referred to as ‘herra Arngrimr’ in his quality as officialis. Islandske Annaler, 354–​55. Islandske Annaler, 355 and 276 (“vigdr Arngrimr. til abota at Þyngeyrum”).

272 Harðarson the monastery of Þingeyrar not prove that he must have been a monk there before? The answer to this question may be given in c­ hapter 64 of the Rule of St Benedict which deals with the election of the abbot. According to this chapter, there are three possibilities of appointing an abbot at a Benedictine monastery. First, by the unanimous consent of the brothers. Second, by the decision of the wiser brothers, those of better judgement, be they many or few, for a modern democratic majority rule does not apply in a Benedictine monastery. Third, by the intervention of the local bishop, on certain conditions.35 Bishop Ormr intervened quite often in the matters of the monasteries in his bishopric, as can be seen from the sources: “The priest Eiríkr bolli became in 1344 abbot of Þingeyrar. But in 1345 Bishop Ormr withdrew that power from him and placed there again Stefán abbot of Þverá.”36 On this occasion, Bergr Sokkason again became abbot of Þverá (“received again his honour and his abbatial status”) and ‘abbot’ is the title Arngrímr gives him in the Guðmundar drápa from the same time.37 It is, therefore, just as likely that Bishop Ormr simply placed his officialis, Brother Arngrímr, in the office of abbot of Þingeyrar, whether the monks wanted him or not or obtained the consent of the wiser brothers for this action. During the Avignon papacy, the appointment of abbots in commissam became increasingly frequent, and they functioned as a kind of commissioner with limited power over the monastery; the office of abbot was in practice a source of income for the abbot commissioner who did not even necessarily reside in the monastery.38 It could also be mentioned that it was Bishop Laurentius who originally elected Bergr Sokkason as abbot of Munkaþverá, and not the brothers: “Brother Bergr Sokkason was elected by Bishop Laurentius as abbot at Munkaþverá; a year later he was consecrated by

35

“In abbatis ordinatione illa semper consideratur ratio, ut hic constituatur, quem sibi omnis concors congregatio secundum timorem Dei, sive etiam pars quamvis parva congregationis saniore consilio elegerit. Vitae autem merito et sapientiae doctrina elegatur, qui ordinandus est, etiam si ultimus fuerit in ordine congregationis. Quod si etiam omnis congregatio vitiis suis –​quod quidem absit! –​consentientem personam pari consilio elegerit, et vitia ipsa aliquatenus in notitia episcopi, ad cuius diocesim pertinet locus ipse, vel ad abbates aut christianos vicinos claruerint, prophibeant pravorum praevalere consensum, sed domui Dei dignum constituant dispensatorem, scientes pro hoc se recepturos mercedem bonam, si illud caste et zelo Dei faciant, sicut e diverso peccatum, si neglegant.“ Jensen, ed. and trans, Benedikts Regel, 148–​50. 36 Janus Jónsson, “Um klaustrin á Íslandi,” 190; cf. Islandske Annaler, 211, 222, 274, 402. 37 “Gefinn aptr heiðr sinn ok abota valld broður Bergi ok forrað at Munka þvera.” Islandske Annaler, 211. Guðmundar drápa: “Bergr ábóti”, v. 42. 38 Lawrence, Medieval Monasticism, 276–​77.

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the bishop at the seat of Hólar.”39 A similar pattern can later be seen for the monastery of Þingeyrar: “Jón Gamlason had in 1439 become abbot of Þingeyrar. Before that, he was a priest, and had in 1436 been officialis after Bishop Jón Vilhjálmsson went abroad.”40 In 1354, Eyjólfr Pálsson, priest in Skálholt, was made abbot of Þykkvibœr in a similar way. During his reign as abbot, Brother Arngrímr becomes officialis once again in 1354 and serves in that function until 1357, when he resigns or is deposed, probably for the reason that news had arrived of the death of Bishop Ormr in Norway during the winter 1356–​57. Brother Arngrímr thus had been deprived of his mandate as officialis and Síra Þorsteinn Hallson was elected to this function during a synod in the bishopric. The same reasons may be behind his removal from the function of abbot or he has resigned when the bishop from whom he had received his mandate was no longer there. The archiepiscopal nuntii, Brother Eysteinn and Síra Eyjólfr Brandsson must have interpreted his ordination as abbot in a different way and confirmed it the next year by reinstating Brother Arngrímr in his previous office as abbot of Þingeyrar.41 Annals report that during or after his deposition Arngrímr had sworn to become a Dominican mendicant in the friary of Bergen which, incidentally, was the house of Bishop Jón Halldórsson of Skálholt.42 After these events, Arngrímr is mentioned as abbot in two charters issued in 1359 by Bishop Jón Eiríksson of Hólar, from 31 May 1359 written at Þingeyrar and 3 June written at Hvammur in Laxárdalur.43 On 25 July 1361 he has a hand in a deal with the monastery of Þingeyrar, and that is the last preserved document of Arngrímr’s activities before the abbot’s death on festum reliquiarum, 13 October 1361.44 The stages in the career of Arngrímr Brandsson seem therefore to be the following:

39

“Bróðir Bergr Sokkason var kosinn af herra Laurentio ábóti at Munkaþverá; var hann vígðr einu ári síðar af honum heima á Hólum.” Lárentíus saga, 382. 40 “Jón Gamlason var 1439 orðinn ábóti á Þingeyrum. Hann var prestur áður, og hafði 1436 verið officialis eptir utanför Jóns biskups Vilhjálmssonar.” Janus Jónsson, “Um klaustrin á Íslandi,” 193; cf. 223. 41 Some annals mention otherwise unspecified offenses Arngrímr is supposed to have committed or been accused of. Nothing is known of these accusations; perhaps they refer to the earlier events at Þykkvibœr. 42 Some scholars (see for instance Róbert A. Ottósson, Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia rhythmica, 73) have interpreted the sources as implying that Arngrímr actually went to Bergen but it seems that his vow to enter the Dominican friary never went so far. 43 di, 3:131–​33, nr. 97 and nr. 98. 44 di, 3:179–​81, nr. 151; Islandske Annaler, 359.

274 Harðarson 1323–​27: Priest in Skálholt. 1327–​29: Mission to Nidaros. 1329–​34: Priest in Skálholt. 1334–​41: Secular cleric at Oddi. 1341–​43: Canon regular at Þykkvibœr. 1344: Possibly a Benedictine monk at Viðey. 1346: Assistant of Bishop Ormr Ásláksson of Hólar, perhaps as early as 1344, and possibly travels with him to Norway in 1345–​1346. 1347–​51: Officialis of Hólar. 1351: Abbot of Þingeyrar. 1354–​57: Officialis of Hólar. 1357: Deposed as officialis by the clergy of the bishopric after the death of Bishop Ormr; resigns from his function as abbot of Þingeyrar; makes a vow to enter the house of the Dominicans in Bergen. 1358: Reinstated as abbot by the visitatores of the archbishop of Nidaros. If this analysis of the career of Arngrímr Brandsson is correct in the main outlines, the question arises whether we can draw any consequences for our ideas about works or manuscripts he might have composed or written. This may come down to pure guesswork, but one should at least note the itinerary of Brother Arngrímr from Skálholt to Nidaros and back, and through Oddi and Þykkvibœr to Hólar and Þingeyrar, and the implications of his interest in building and playing the organ. 5

Organ Music in Codex Wormianus

One detail of interest is precisely the unexpected mention of organ-​playing in an editorial interpolation in the Codex Wormianus (Copenhagen, Arnamagnæan Collection, am 242 fol.) of the Prose Edda. The manuscript is presumed to have been written in the monastery of Þingeyrar around 1350.45 The Codex Wormianus differs from other manuscripts of the Prose Edda in that it contains a heavily interpolated Prologus as well as all four grammatical treatises introduced by a separate prologue considered to have been composed by the editor of the compilation who also is thought to be the author of additions in the Second Grammatical Treatise as well as of the interpolations in the Prologus itself.46 45 Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus, 10–​16, reviews the arguments of different scholars most of whom support the thesis that the manuscript was written at Þingeyrar. 46 Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus, 45–​ 59; see also Mikael Males, “Wormianusredaktören,” 41–​77.

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The Second Grammatical Treatise (sgt) compares language to a musical instrument, and the version of the Wormianus differs in some respects from the text in the Codex Upsaliensis (Uppsala Universitetsbibliotek, dg 11) which is the other main manuscript of the sgt. These include a rewriting of certain passages in a style reminiscent of the 14th century Benedictine school. The passages also ­indicate some knowledge of anatomy as well as theology. However, the one that is of most importance for our purposes here, is an interpolation adding organ-​ playing and chant to the comparison of language to a musical instrument in the SGT. The musical instrument forming the background for the illustrated example of language as an instrument in the sgt, is the medieval sinfonia, a string instrument operated by a wheel and plugs. In the treatise, the vowels are compared to the strings in the instrument and the plugs to the consonants that combine with the vowels to make a syllable. The example implies a familiarity with the instrument and its mechanical workings. The Codex Upsaliensis contains two illustrations that visualize the system of vowels and consonants in a wheel-​diagram (rota) and a square drawing of the keyboard of the instrument. We should also note that this instrument was used for secular purposes, such as dances and feasts, which implies that we may have a secular context for the sgt as represented in the Codex Upsaliensis. In the Wormianus there are no illustrative drawings of the instrument and the text has been partly rewritten and interpolated. The Wormianus redactor duly mentions the sinfonia, but immediately moves on to organ-​playing and then to chant and the singing of Mass, implying a clerical context rather than a secular one. However, neither the organ nor the chant forms a part of the conceptual metaphor of the sgt. The example of the sinfonia is used in order to illustrate the formation of the syllables in a systematic way, while the example of the organ –​ although it could be seen as a parallel to the sinfonia and even closer to the human voice –​seems not to be used for illustrating the point of the treatise, that of the arrangements of vowels and consonants. The passage in the Wormianus reads as follows: þesser stafer giora allt maal ok hender maalit ẏmsa sva til at iafna sem horpu strenger giora hlioð eða eru læyster lvklar i simphoníe eða þa er organ gengr upp ok níðr aptr ok framm um allan gamma þann er með ser hefer nítian lukla ok aatta radder.47 47

Islands grammatiske Literatur i Middelalderen, ed. Dalerup, Jónsson, and Ólsen, 53. In his study of the sgt, Fabrizio D. Raschellà translates the parallel passage from the Upsaliensis in the following way: “On that field are raised those letters which make up the whole language, and language plucks some (of them) like, for example, harp strings, or (as

276 Harðarson In this passage, it is stated (as it is also in the Upsaliensis) that language can be compared to harp strings or to keys in a sinfonia. But the Wormianus adds: “or as when an organ goes up and down, back and forth, through all the musical scale that contains nineteen keys and eight voices” (eða þa er organ gengr upp ok níðr aptr ok framm um allan gamma þann er með ser hefer nítian lukla ok aatta radder). The keys are presumably the notes in the musical scale or on the keyboard and the voices may refer to the eight church modes.48 The addition of the organ without making any theoretical illustrative purpose could be interpreted as an expression of the interest of the scribe or the editor who may have wanted to introduce a favorite instrument of his. After praising the possibilities of the musical scale he goes on to describe the formation of musical sound in the human throat “when the words commence and the sound grows and the voices resound” (er orðin hefiaz vpp ok hljomrenn vex ok raddernar glymia)49 with the resulting chant that fills the air, and then he continues with a theological excursus and a comparison between earthly song and the heavenly song of angels. Inevitably, the question arises as to whether the organ music introduced in the Wormianus was composed and played by Arngrímr Brandsson. First, let us note that the import of the organ in 1329 was such an unusual event that it was considered worthy of being recorded in the annals. Organs and organ-​playing were probably an innovation in 14th century Iceland. Very few people would have had the knowledge and interest, not to speak of the ambition, of adding an organ to the harp and the sinfonia in the sgt. Arngrímr Brandsson is definitely one of them, although there might be others, such as Bishop Jón Halldórsson in Skálholt. The cathedral was the most probable home for Arngrímr’s new organ and therefore points to the see of Skálholt as a possible place of origin of the version of the sgt that is contained in the Codex Wormianus.50 Second, scholars have differed in their view of the relationship between the editor of Wormianus and the scribe, some opting for identity, others for difference. However, since it has been pointed out that there are errors in the transcription of some texts in the Wormianus, including the sgt, the logical inference

48 49 50

when) the keys of a hurdy-​gurdy are locked.” Raschellà, The so-​called Second Grammatical Treatise, 55. Jón Þórarinsson, Íslensk tónlistarsaga, 153. Islands grammatiske Literatur i Middelalderen, 54. Bishop Ögmundr Pálsson bought a new organ for the cathedral of Skálholt after the fire in 1532, probably in order to replace the previous one. Árni Heimir Ingólfsson, Tónlist liðinna alda, 201.

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is that the Wormianus is indeed a copy of another manuscript, possibly of an already established exemplar.51 6

Codex Wormianus and Stjórn

It has long been accepted (with a few reservations) that the hand of the scribe of Codex Wormianus is also found in two manuscripts of the Old Norse History Bible Stjórn: Reykjavik, The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies, am 227 fol. and Copenhagen, Arnamagnæan Collection, am 229 i fol. The general agreement is that am 227 fol. was written in the scriptorium of the Benedictine monastery of Þingeyrar. The main evidence supporting this claim is the fact that the same hand has been found in other manuscripts that have been located in the North of Iceland, such as the Codex Wormianus.52 The inference is that the scribe worked in a scriptorium in the monastery of Þingeyrar. However, these conclusions may not be as straightforward as they seem. The Þingeyrar-​thesis is possibly contradicted by the fact that am 227 fol. formerly belonged to the cathedral of Skálholt which would then be the natural place of production.53 Árni Magnússon acquired the manuscript from Bishop Jón Vídalín of Skálholt in 1699 and duly notes that the volume previously belonged to the church of Skálholt: “Þetta volumen hefur fyrrum til heyrt Skalholltz kirkju.”54 In discussions of the provenance of am 227 fol., the sister manuscript, the fragmentary am 229 i fol., is rarely mentioned except in passing. am 229 i fol. was acquired by Árni Magnússon from Sigurður Sigurðarson, sýslumaður (county magistrate) from Eyjar in Kjós, located in the vicinity of the former Augustinian abbey of Viðey. Sigurður Sigurðarson had obtained one of the fragments from Hvoll in Ölfus in the South-​West. Although the geographical locations of the manuscripts acquired by Árni Magnússon do not always correspond to their place of origin (for example, the Stjórn manuscript Copenhagen, Arnamagnæan Collection, am 226 fol. was written at Helgafell but obtained from Hlíðarendi in Fljótshlíð) it is noteworthy that both am 227 fol. and am 51 Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus, 238; already in 1884 Björn M. Ólsen, Den tredje og fjærde grammatiske Avhandling, lxii, affirmed that W is definitely a copy. –​In addition, it may be noted that in the prologue of the sgt there seems to be some confusion in lines 5–​6 on p. 91: “Ok a annan veg horfa þær sva at þær mætaz við tungu rætr með því hverr er þarf | renn ok rǫdd upp fyrir hveriu orði. þarf ok með orði hveriu þriar þessar greiner. minni ok vit ok skilning …” It seems that “með því hverr er þarf” does not fit the context and is possibly a misreading of words in the next line: “þarf ok með orði hveriu” which fits the context. 52 Jakob Benediktsson, “Some Observations on Stjórn.” 53 Jakobsen, Studier i Clarus saga. 54 Jakob Benediktsson, “Some Observations on Stjórn,” 11.

278 Harðarson 229 i fol. were located in the south –​in Skálholt and in the diocese of Skálholt. However, one should note that the cathedral of Hólar in 1396 possessed a “Liber regum” among “soghu bökr” (history books) in Old Norse, and in 1525 a “biblia j norrænu” (Bible in Old Norse); also, in the canonry at Möðruvellir 1461 there is a “liber genesis et liber macabeorum” listed under books in Old Norse, all of which might indicate Stjórn manuscripts; they would not have been confined to the South.55 In his study of Clári saga, Alfred Jakobsen found Skálholt to be the most appropriate place for the production of am 227 fol. He observed that hand A (Scribe A) in the Stjórn manuscripts am 227 fol. and am 229 i fol. is also found in (parts of) many other manuscripts, including Copenhagen, Arnamagnæan Collection, am 657 a-​b 4° (contains, inter alia, Clári saga and ævintýr) and Codex Wormianus.56 Jakobsen’s main argument for his thesis that Scribe A was located in Skálholt was, on the one hand, that the content of am 657 a-​b 4°is associated with Jón Halldórsson and, on the other, that the Stjórn manuscript am 227 fol. belonged to the cathedral of Skálholt.57 Jakobsen also suggested that the illuminations in two Jónsbók manuscripts written in the same hand could the work of Scribe A.58 But, in his 1980 edition of the Rómverja saga in Copenhagen, the Arnamagnæan Collection, am 595 a-​b 4° Jakob Benediktsson objected to the relevance of these two points and has since been considered to have refuted the Skálholt-​thesis.59 His main arguments are condensed below. First, the association of texts with Jón Halldórsson does not necessarily imply any connection to Skálholt for the manuscript in which the texts are written. Second, the manuscripts in Skálholt would have been destroyed by the fires that took place there in the 14th, 16th, and 17th centuries. Therefore, one would expect manuscripts found at Skálholt to have been obtained from other parts of the country. Third, am 657 a-​b 4° once belonged to the church at Bólstaðarhlíð in the North which was dedicated to St Michael; in fact, Michael’s saga (by Bergr Sokkason) is found at the beginning of the manuscript. Fourth, a list of bishops of Hólar is written on fol. 87r in the Jónsbók manuscript Reykjavik, The Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies, am 127 4°, part

55 56

Hólar 1396 di, 3:613; Hólar 1525 di, 9:299; Möðruvellir 1461 di, 5:290. Scribe A is also thought to have written gks 3269 4°(Jónsbók), am 162 A beta fol. (Egils saga, one leaf), am 240 iv fol. (Maríu saga, three leaves), am 667 ix 4°(Jóns saga baptista, two leaves), nra 62 (Karlamagnúss saga), and the Völuspá entry in Hauksbók (am 544 4°). 57 Jakobsen, Studier, 53. 58 Jakobsen, Studier, 46. 59 Jakob Benediktsson, ed., Catilina and Jugurtha, 11–​12.

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of it probably by Bishop Gottskálk Nikulásson himself (1498–​1520).60 Fifth, a Maríukvæði has been added on fol. 1r of am 127 4° by a hand that is also found in Stockholm Perg fol. 7, located in Eyjafjörður in the 1470s. Finally, all known connections of Codex Wormianus are with Northern Iceland. Therefore, the scribe must have been active in the North in the mid-​14th century, and so would the other scribes that have written manuscripts associated with Scribe A. However, some qualifications need to be made here. First, the presence of the series of Dominican exempla in am 657 a-​b 4°, that is, of material associated with the Dominican Jón Halldórsson, in a manuscript supposedly produced in the Benedictine monastery of Þingeyrar needs an explanation which is otherwise not provided. It is not very probable that the texts contained in the manuscript originated in a Benedictine milieu.61 Therefore, a Dominican connection, direct or indirect, is the best explanation of the presence of the texts in the manuscripts. Even if the manuscript was written in the North, its origin must at least partly be traced back to the South because of the texts it contains. Second, it is certainly true that practically no books were saved from the Skálholt fire in 1309 when the cathedral was hit by lightning and burnt down. In 1532, on the other hand, the case was different: the cathedral was indeed destroyed but records show that most of the books were saved: “komu undan mestöllu, skrúða og bókum” (most were evacuated, ornaments and books).62 Thus, the situation in 1532 is quite different from 1309 when “nær all[a]‌r bækr” (almost all books) or “bækur flestar” (most books) were destroyed.63 Books acquired between 1310 and 1532 would therefore have continued to be present in Skálholt until long after the Reformation, which is in fact corroborated by the testimony of the book catalogues that have been preserved. The presence of am 227 fol. at Skálholt is attested in inventories of the cathedral dating from 1674, 1644, 1588, and possibly in 1548.64 It is a priori not probable that

60 di, 6:315–​16. 61 Astås, Et Bibleverk fra middelalderen, 208. 62 “Biskupa-​ annálar Jóns Egilssonar,” ed. Jón Sigurðsson, 65; cf. Hörður Ágústsson, “Bækur,” 291. 63 Islandske Annaler, 391 and 487. 64 Jakob Benediktsson, “Some observations on Stjórn,” 11–​12. That the catalogues refer to am 227 fol. can be ascertained by the fact one entry in 1588 notes a “Biblía skrifuð er þeir kalla Stjórn,” whereas in 1604 it is called: “Heilagra manna Blómstra upp á kálfskinn” and in 1644 “Helgra manna blómstra” evaluated at one mark. In am 227 fol., at the top of fol. 1r, there is written “heilagra manna blomstra virt 1 mörk,” that fits both the entry in 1604 and the evaluation in 1644. The 1674 catalogue says: “Partur af Stjórn,” that is evaluated at 10 aurar in comparison with other books. All these entries must refer to the same manuscript, am 227. fol., that Árni Magnússon received from Skálholt.

280 Harðarson the Lutheran reformers would have prioritized the acquisition of a Stjórn manuscript for their cathedral in the 1540s, since it was important for them to have their own version of their Bible; however, in the 1560s, superintendent (i.e. bishop) Gísli Jónsson copied a version of Stjórn iii from an unidentified exemplar, and supplemented it with later translations of other parts of the Bible which he provided with Luther’s prologues.65 Consequently, am 227 fol. may well have been in the possession of the episcopal seat of Skálholt from before the Reformation until Árni Magnússon acquired it. However, we have no external records for the exact date at which it came into the possession of the cathedral. Third, even if am 657 a-​ b 4° was acquired indirectly from Halldóra Erlendsdóttir (1659–​1742) of Bólstaðarhlíð in the early 18th century, it does not mean that the manuscript was originally intended for the Bólstaðarhlíð church which, in the Middle Ages, was an annex-​church serviced from Bergsstaðir in nearby Svartárdalur. Besides, Árni Magnússon notes that some of the folios came from a schoolboy at Hólar and other folios were obtained in 1721 from pastor Snorri Jónsson (1683–​1756) of Helgafell who had been master of the school of Hólar. A Michaels saga would be normal to own, even for an annex church, but not the rest of the manuscript. Hólar (or, for that matter, Skálholt) would be a more probable provenance for a manuscript of this kind. Indeed, in the inventory of Hólar 1525 there is registered “æventyra bok gomul” [old book of fairytales] –​which could actually be am 657 a-​b 4° itself.66 Finally, the only certainty about the provenance of Codex Wormianus is that it appears at Hólar in the 16th century. The theory that it was written in the monastery of Þingeyrar has a double origin. The first step was taken by Björn M. Ólsen in his 1884 edition, where he accepted the conjecture that Bergr Sokkason was the author of the Fourth Grammatical Treatise. The argument for the authorship was based on the presence of one stanza (2) cited in the FoGT that is also found in Jón Ólafsson’s retelling of the lost first part of Heiðarvíga saga where the stanza is cited from Laufás Edda that goes back to Codex Wormianus.67 On that basis, Ólsen placed the composition of the 65 66

67

Jakob Benediktsson, “Et overset håndskrift af Stjórn III.” di, 9:299. As for points four and five, which are not conclusive taken by themselves, one can mention that it was the law book of Skálholt that was the source of reference for other books of law, so it would be natural for the bishop of Hólar to commission a new law manuscript from Skálholt if he needed an update of his Jónsbók manuscripts. In his introduction, lxxvii, Björn states: “Han anfører et vers af Heiðarvíga saga og knytter dertil en bemærkning, som viser, at han har været bekendt med denne sagas indhold (k. 2, W. s. 11123). Dette kunde tale for, at forfatteren har levet eller opholdt sig i Húnavatns þing, samt at han, hvis han har været munk, snarest har hørt til Tingøre kloster. Alle disse

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FoGT in the monastery of Þingeyrar. The second step is found in Sigurður Nordal’s prologue to the 1931 facsimile edition of Codex Wormianus, where it is suggested that (a) the author of the FoGT, (b) the complier of all four grammatical treatises in Codex Wormianus, (c) the author of the prologue to all four grammatical treatises, and (d) the scribe of Wormianus are one and the same person, located in the monastery of Þingeyrar.68 However, as Björn M. Ólsen pointed out already in 1884, there are certain errors in the transcription of the FoGT, particularly in the verses themselves, that exclude the scribe from being the author of the treatise.69 Therefore, the thesis advanced by Sigurður Nordal in the introduction to the edition of 1931 cannot be considered to be well founded. The author of the FoGT is not the scribe of the Codex Wormianus.70 On the other hand, placing the author of the FoGT in the monastery of Þingeyar by means of the evidence of one stanza, that is lifted from the FoGT and placed in Heiðarvíga saga, and therefore occurs in Heiðarvíga saga, does not add up either.71 Besides, Heiðarvíga saga takes place not only in Húnaþing but also in Borgarfjörður, so by the same argument anyone familiar with its contents would also have to be assumed to have lived in or near Borgarfjörður and to have been a canon, say, in the abbey of Helgafell or, possibly, Viðey, not too far away from Stafaholt, where Ólafr Þórðarson resided, or from Reykholt in Borgarfjörðr, where the Prose Edda was composed, and where Styrmir fróði Kárason, a native of Húnaþing and a close associate of Snorri Sturluson, was prior. Second, and more importantly, other evidence in FoGT itself points in a different direction. For instance, the

68 69

70 71

andydninger passer bedst på abbed Bergr Sokkason, og der er stor sandsynelighed for, at Svb. Egilssons gisning, at han er forfatteren, har truffet det rette.” (He cites a verse from Heiðarvíga saga and adds a comment that shows that he has been familiar with the content of this saga [k. 2, W. s. 11123]. This could speak for that the author has lived or stayed in the Húnavatn district, and also, if he has been a monk, has indeed belonged to the monastery of Þingeyrar. All these indications fit best with Abbot Bergr Sokkason, and it is very probable that Sveinbjörn Egilsson’s guess that he is the author, is correct.) Sigurður Nordal, introduction to Codex Wormianus, 16. “Dog viser enkelte forvanskninger, navnlig i versene, at vi har en afskrift og ikke selve grundhåndskriftet for os.” (Yet, certain errors, especially in the verses, show that we have a copy and not the original manuscript itself before us). Indledning, lxiii. In addition, the error ‘dvnax’ in ch. 21 (p. 114 in ed. 1884) for ‘climax,’ would probably not have been written by a translator of the Doctrinale; but a copyist who did not know Latin, or at least not well enough, might have confused the ‘cl’ with a ‘d.’ Cf. Johansson, Studier i Codex Wormianus, 238, but also 34. Sigurður Nordal pointed out that the section on Ókennd heiti in the Wormianus also cites a verse from the saga. For recent work see Clunies Ross and Wellendorf, The Fourth Grammatical Treatise.

282 Harðarson FoGT contains two stanzas (10 and 14) that relate to and comment on the destruction of the cathedral of Skálholt in December 1309, and thus have specific connections to Skálholt.72 Also, the explanation of stanza 51 makes use of a sermon of Pope Leo i the Great, whose works are recorded in the catalogues of the libraries of the abbey of Viðey in 1397 and of Skálholt, but not elsewhere, according to the testimony of book catalogues.73 (One could mention in passing that the main source of the FoGT, the Doctrinale of Alexander de Villa Dei, is mentioned in Viðey in 1397 and Hólar in 1396, and so is the Graecismus of Eberhard of Bethune, which also seems to be used in the FoGT.) A brief look at the vocabulary of the FoGT might also furnish some clues. First, the vocabulary of the FoGT is characterized by a number of logical and philosophical terms (easily comparable to Latin concepts) such as ‘undirstaðligr’ (substantialis), ‘tilfelli’ (accidens), ‘þolandi’ (patiens), ‘gerandi’ (agens), ‘kynkvísl’ (genus), species (in Latin in the text), ‘gagnstaðligr’ (contrarius), útþaning’ (extensio), ‘hrœriligr’ (mobilis), ‘staðlig hrœring’ (locomotio), ‘lífligr’ (animatus); ‘skiftiligr’ (divisibilis), ‘óskiftiligr’ (indivisibilis), ‘ávarp’ (summa). In addition, there are theological discussions of some points, such as the nature of God, the distinction between metaphorical speech and truth, and cosmological concepts referring to the Biblical world view (himinborur) as well as use of authorities such as Pope Leo i or, possibly, Isidore. The frequent and consistent use of this kind of terms indicates a person trained in scholastic logic, physics and theology, a training that would best be explained by a university education of the kind that Jón Halldórsson received, although a different kind of background cannot be excluded. Second, other aspects of the vocabulary are reflected in the learned literature of the early 14th century.74 Most of the words are found in the text of Stjórn I, but also in works such as Clári saga and ævintýr (am 657 a-​b 4°), Guðmundar saga D, Mörtu saga ok Magdalenu, Barlaams saga, Nikuláss saga erkibyskups, Tveggja postola saga Jóns ok Jakobs, and in four saints’ lives (Antoníuss saga, Maríu saga, Vitae patrum, and Thómass saga) that, incidentally, are included in the large Copenhagen, the Arnamagnæan Collection, am 234 fol. which is recorded in

72 73 74

Cf. Björn M. Ólsen, introduction, xliii. In Viðey: “Sermones Leonis” (di, 4:111), cf. Emil Olmer, Boksamlingar påIsland; In Skálholt: “Sermones Leonis papae” (Hörður Ágústsson, “Bækur,” 292). Search in the database onp: Dictionary of Old Norse Prose of the following words and phrases: afganga efnisins, ávarp, gagnstaðligr, gerandi, heilsamr, himinborur, hræriligr, ísetning, kynkvísl, lífligr, óskiftiligr, skiftiligr, snápskapr, staðlig hræring, tilfelli, undirstaðligr, útþaning, viðkæmiliga, þolandi.

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a Skálholt inventory from 1588.75 Thus, if we dissociate the author of the FoGT and the scribe of Codex Wormianus, as there is every reason to do, the evidence furnished by the FoGT and the ancient book catalogues tell us a different story from previously. Indeed, the post-​Reformation book inventories from Skálholt in 1588, 1604, 1639, 1644, and 1674, reveal that the cathedral was in possession of numerous works that must have been acquired before the Reformation. Among these are Historia scholastica by Peter Comestor, Speculum historiale by Vincent of Beauvais, Rationale divinorum officiorum by Guillelmus Durandus, Etymologiae of Isidore, Sermones of Pope Leo, Sermones of St. Augustine, Historia Lombardica (i.e. Legenda aurea) by Jacob of Voragine, along with a number of other works.76 In addition, the transcript of a pre-​Reformation list of books that belonged to the cathedral of Skálholt mentions some of the Latin ones, such as Historia scholastica, Speculum historiale, Rationale divinorum officiorum, Sermones Leonis papae, Isidore’s Etymologiae, and a book called Flores Hugonis de Sancto Victore which could actually be the Liber exceptionum by Richard of St. Victor traditionally attributed to Hugh; even Bede on St Luke is found in the catalogue of the library of Skálholt (Beda super Lucam).77 Furthermore, all these works have been identified as main sources of Stjórn, besides the Vulgata which also is present in the catalogue.78 Even if some of them occur in other inventories from different monasteries or from the cathedral of Hólar, Skálholt is the only place where all of them are found together. From that perspective, Skálholt is the only place in medieval Iceland where it would have been possible to compose a work like Stjórn I, and the time of Jón Halldórsson in Skálholt would have been the only time there when a clear Dominican tendency would have set its mark upon such a composition.79 Thus, circumstantial evidence rather points to Skálholt as the place of origin for Stjórn I, wherever the extant copies of the work were written.80 75

The manuscript am 234 fol. was written by two scribes, like the Stjórn-​manuscript am 227 fol. According to the Liber ordinis of the canons of Saint-​Victor in Paris, the scriptorium should consist of two scribes selected by the abbot who worked under the librarian; perhaps this working method is reflected in the manuscript production in question. 76 Hörður Ágústsson, “Bækur,” 285–​356, esp. 292–​99, 307–​37. 77 See also Males, “Wormianusredaktören,” 50, n. 9. 78 Astås, introduction to Stjórn: Tekst etter håndskriftene, xx. 79 Astås, Et Bibleverk fra middelalderen, 55–​ 57, 180–​ 200, 207–​ 9; Wollin, “Stjórn och Pentateukparafrasen.” 80 One could speculate on the possibility that Árni Helgason intended to present King Hákon Magnússon with a manuscript Bible in return for the gifts he received for his cathedral in 1310, which would explain the reference to the King’s commissioning the work in the prologue.

284 Harðarson 7

Conclusion

We have, in this essay, attempted to reconstruct the career of Arngrímr Brandsson, following the trail of evidence gathered from the sources, on the assumption that they can be accounted for by positing one person only corresponding to his name. The organ-​building of Síra Arngrímr Brandsson in Norway in 1327–​29, implies that he was a musician and, possibly, a composer and a Latin poet as well as an illustrator. The introduction of organ music and chant as an additional example of the formation of language in the Second Grammatical Treatise in Codex Wormianus, indicates a certain enthusiasm for organ music and church song, possibly reflecting the interests of Arngrímr Brandsson and/​or of his superior, Bishop Jón Halldórsson. As the redactor of Codex Wormianus, or at least the author of the FoGT, cannot have been the same person as the scribe of the manuscript, the particular combination of texts that are found in the Wormianus need not necessarily point towards a Northern origin; in fact there are clear connections to Skálholt and Viðey in the FoGT whose author seems to have had an advanced education, perhaps equivalent to that of a university graduate. This connection can be established through a comparison between the FoGT and book catalogues from Viðey and Skálholt. The book catalogues show that most of the main sources for Stjórn I were present in Skálholt which means that it must at least be entertained as a possibility that Stjórn I was composed in Skálholt. Indeed, the Dominican tendency of Stjórn may reflect the influence of the Dominican background of Bishop Jón Halldórsson. If Stjórn I was –​at least partly –​compiled in Skálholt during the episcopate of Jón Halldórsson with the possible assistance of Síra Arngrímr Brandsson and a few other clerics, this is not to say that Stjórn as a whole or as a concept was either begun or finished during the reign of Jón Halldórsson but that at least the part designated as Stjórn I in its present form was produced under his direction. Furthermore, Brother Arngrímr clearly functions as a possible link between the texts associated with Skálholt in the South, and manuscripts produced at Þingeyrar in the North, between Jón Halldórsson in Skálholt and Clári saga in Bólstaðarhlíð, between the poetic background of Guðmundar drápa and the Codex Wormianus emerging at Hólar.81 The possibility of seeing an indirect Dominican impact on the Hólar see and the monastery of Þingeyrar might 81

It is interesting to note that Brother Arngrímr, Brother Eysteinn, and Brother Árni (later abbot of Munka-​Þverá) all distance themselves from the rules of the Edda in their poems; and so does Einar Hafliðason for the prose sections (fictions of pagans) in the beginning of his saga of Bishop Laurentius. One wonders if the reason for this dissociation might be that they had been too much involved in it at an earlier period of their poetic and narrative development. The poetics advanced in the prologue to the four grammatical

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even be an interesting path to follow.82 The Skálholt canons may even have had some influence elsewhere: It may be pointed out that am 226 fol. has been established to have been written in the abbey of Helgafell where Eysteinn Ásgrímsson had his headquarters as officialis of Skálholt during the years 1349–​51.83 One may recall that the general assumption is that the manuscripts we have discussed were produced at Þingeyrar in the 1350s, a time of writing which coincides with the abbacy of Arngrímr Brandsson in the monastery. Thus, Arngrímr Brandsson emerges not only as the author of Guðmundar drápa and Guðmundar saga D, and possibly of Clári saga and Tómasar saga erkibyskups II, but also as a possible redactor of a part of the texts conserved in Codex Wormianus. Perhaps he also had something to do with Stjórn and other texts contained in manuscripts some of which were preserved in the Húnaþing district. Be that as it may, it seems clear that one of the main representatives of the Northern Benedictine School84 was in fact a southern Augustinian: a (remote) member of the family of Oddaverjar and Svínfellingar, an excellent priest in the cathedral of Skálholt, an organ builder in Nidaros, a secular cleric in Oddi, a disobedient canon regular in Þykkvibœr, possibly a repentant monk in Viðey, the secretary of the bishop of Hólar, twice officialis of the

treatises in Codex Wormianus recommends understanding of the older poetry but not its imitation: the poems and writings of these authors could therefore be seen as examples of a new poetic direction expressed in the Wormianus redaction of the Prose Edda. 82 On the relationship between canons and Dominicans in the Scandinavian context, see Jakobsen, “Social Friendships.” 83 The identities of Eysteinn Ásgrímsson and Brother Eysteinn have been disputed; in this article it is assumed that they are the same person. It would not be a surprise to see senior Icelandic clerics in high positions in the archbishopric of Nidaros in the years following the decimation of the clergy in Norway by the plague in 1349–​50 which did not affect Iceland until half a century later. In their introduction to The Fourth Grammatical Treatise, Margaret Clunies Ross and Jonas Wellendorf point out that the anonymous stanzas in the treatise bear marked resemblance to identifiable contemporary poetry: “Many of the anonymous stanzas, if the work of the author of the treatise or a colleague, are likely to date from the period c.1320–​40 and are thus more or less contemporary with such poems al Lilja ‘Lily’ and Abbot Arngrímr Brandsson’s Guðmundardrápa (Arngr GdIV, securely self-​dated in str. 47 to the year 1345). The language and the subject matter of some of the anonymous stanzas in FoGT are often reminiscent of these two poems, particularly the former” (xlix–​l). Brother Eysteinn is traditionally considered the author of that poem. One could therefore add him to the list of possible authors of FoGT. The intertextual relationship of his famous drápa to Stjórn I is well-​established (Hans Schottmann, Die isländische Mariendichtung, 232–​35). 84 Sverrir Tómasson, “Norðlenski benediktínaskólinn,” 345–​ 58; see also Johansson, “Manuscript Culture and the Learned Sturlungar,” 347–​54 (the chapters “Hólar and the Benedictines” and “Skálholt and the Augustinians”).

286 Harðarson Hólar diocese, and finally abbot of Þingeyrar who had made a vow to enter Jón Halldórsson’s old Dominican friary in Bergen.

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“Biskupa-​annálar Jóns Egilssonar.” Edited by Jón Sigurðsson. Safn til sögu Íslands og íslenzkra bókmenta að fornu og nýju, vol. 1, 15–​136. Copenhagen: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag, 1856. Benedikts Regel. Edited and translated by Brian Møller Jensen. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanums Forlag and the University of Copenhagen, 1998. Biskupa sögur III. Edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Biskupa sögur, gefnar út af Hinu íslenzka bókmentafèlagi. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Guðbrandur Vigfússon, Þorvaldur Björnsson, and Eiríkur Jónsson. 2 vols. Copenhagen: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag, 1858–​78. Byskupa sögur: MS. Perg. fol. no. 5 in the Royal Library of Stockholm, with an introduction by Jón Helgason. Edited by Jón Helgason. Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1950. Catilina and Jugurtha by Sallust and Pharsalia by Lucan in Old Norse. Rómverjasaga: am 595 a-​b 4to. Edited by Jakob Benediktsson. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde og Bagger, 1980. Codex Wormianus (The Younger Edda): MS. no. 242 fol, in the Arnemagnean Collection in the University Library of Copenhagen. Edited by Sigurður Nordal. Corpus codicum Islandicorum medii aevi 2. Copenhagen: Levin & Munksgaard, 1931. Den norsk-​islandske skjaldedigtning. Edited by Finnur Jónsson. 4 vols. Copenhagen: Rosenkilde og Bagger, 1967–​1973. Diplomatarium Islandicum: Íslenzkt fornbréfasafn, sem hefir inni að halda bréf og gjörninga, dóma og máldaga, og aðrar skrár er snerta Ísland eða íslenzka menn. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Jón Þorkelsson, Páll Eggert Ólason, and Björn Þorsteinsson. 16 vols. Copenhagen and Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1857−1972. Diplomatarium Norvegicum: Oldbreve til kundskab om Norges indre og ydre forhold, sprog, slægter, sæder, lovgivning og rettergang i middelalderen. Edited by Christian C. A. Lange, Carl R. Unger, H. J. Huitfeldt-​Kaas, Gustav Storm, Ferdinand Linthoe Næshagen, and Tor Ulset. 23 vols. Christiania/​Oslo: Kommisjonen for Diplomatarium Norvegicum, Norsk historisk kjeldeskrift-​institutt, Riksarkivet, 1847‒2011. Fourth Grammatical Treatise. Edited by Margaret Clunies Ross and Jonas Wellendorf. London: Viking Society for Northern Research, University College London, 2014. Islands grammatiske Literatur i Middelalderen. Edited by Verner Dalerup, Finnur Jónsson, and Björn M. Ólsen. Copenhagen: S. L. Møller, 1884–​86.

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Islandske Annaler indtil 1578. Edited by Gustav Storm. 1888. Reprint, Oslo: Norsk historisk kjeldeskrift-​institutt, 1977. Islandske originaldiplomer indtil 1450. Edited by Stefán Karlsson. 2 vols. Editiones Arnamagnæanæ. Series A 7. Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1963. Lárentíus saga biskups. In Biskupa sögur III, edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, 213–​441. Íslenzk fornrit, vol. 17. Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998. Liber ordinis Sancti Victoris Parisiensis. Edited by L. Jocqué and L. Milis. Corpus Christianorum Continuatio Mediaevalis 61. Turnhout: Brepols, 1984. Söguþáttur af Jóni Halldórssyni biskupi. Edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir in Biskupa sögur III, 442–​56. Stjórn: Tekst etter håndskriftene. Edited by Reidar Astås. 2 vols. Norrøne tekster 8. Oslo: Riksarkivet, 2009.



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Árni Heimir Ingólfsson. Tónlist liðinna alda: Íslensk handrit 1100–​1800. Reykjavik: Crymogea, 2019. Ásdís Egilsdóttir. „Arngrímr Brandsson.“ Medieval Nordic Literature in Latin. A Website of Authors and Anonymous Works c.1100–​1530, edited by Stephan Borgehammar, Karsten Friis-​Jensen, Lars Boje Mortensen and Åslaug Ommundsen. http://­wikihost .uib.no/medieval/index.php/Arngrímr_Brandsson. Astås, Reidar. Et Bibleverk fra middelalderen: Studier i Stjórn I. Tønsberg, 2010. https:// www.yumpu.com/no/document/view/18530832/et-bibelverk-fra-middelalderen -studier-i-stjorn-i-biblioteket-. Berg, Arne. Norske tømmerhus frå mellomalderen. Oslo: Landbruksforlaget, 1989–​98. Danbolt, Gunnar. Nidarosdomen: Fra Kristkirke til nasjonalmonument. Oslo: Andresen & Butenschøn, 1997. Deusen, Natalie van. “The Dominican Connection: Some Comments on the Sources, Authorship, and Provenance of Mörtu saga ok Maríu Magðalenu.” The Journal of English and Germanic Philology 113, no. 2 (2014): 206–​21. Guðbrandur Jónsson. “Arngrímur ábóti Brandsson og bróðir Eysteinn Ásgrímsson.” Saga 1:4 (1949–​53): 394–​469. Gunnar F. Guðmundsson. Íslenskt samfélag og Rómakirkja. Reykjavik: Alþingi, 2000. Gunnar Finnbogason. “Var bróðir Eysteinn í Þykkvabæ höfundur Lilju?” Á góðu dægri: Afmæliskveðja til Sigurðar Nordals 14. sept. 1951 frá yngstu nemendum hans, 83–​93. Reykjavik: Helgafell, 1951. Gunnvör S. Karlsdóttir. Guðmundar sögur biskups: Þróun og ritunarsamhengi. Reykjavik: Háskóli Íslands, Hugvísindasvið, Íslensku-​og menningardeild, 2017. Hörður Ágústsson, „Bækur.“ In Kristján Eldjárn and Hörður Ágústsson. Skálholt: Skrúði og áhöld, 285–​356. Reykjavik: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag, 1992. Hörður Ágústsson. Skálholt: Kirkjur. Reykjavik: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag, 1990.

288 Harðarson Jakob Benediktsson. “Et overset håndskrift af Stjórn III.” Festskrift til Finn Hødnebø, 29. desember 1989, edited by Bjørn Eithun, 38–​45. Oslo: Novus, 1989. Jakob Benediktsson. “Some Observations on Stjórn and the Manuscript am 227 fol.” Gripla 15 (2004): 7–​42. Jakobsen, Alfred. Studier i Clarus saga: Til spørsmålet om sagaens norske proveniens. Årbok for Universitetet i Bergen, Humanistisk serie 1963, no. 2. Oslo: Universitetsforlaget, 1964. Jakobsen, Johnny Grandjean Gøgsig. “Social Friendships between the Dominican Order and Elite Groups in Thirteenth-​century Scandinavia.” In Nordic Elites in Transformation, c.1050–​1250. Vol. 2, Social Networks, edited by Kim Esmark, Lars Hermanson, Hans Jacob Orning. New York and Abingdon: Routledge, 2020. Janus Jónsson. “Um klaustrin á Íslandi.” Tímarit Hins íslenzka bókmentafélags 8 (1887): 174–​265. Johansson, Karl G. “Bergr Sokkason och Arngrímur Brandsson –​översättare och författare i samma miljö.” In Old Norse Myths, Literature and Society: Proceedings of the 11th International Saga Conference 2–​7 July, University of Sydney, edited by Geraldine Barnes and Margaret Clunies Ross, 181–​97. Sydney: Centre for Medieval Studies, University of Sydney, 2000. Johansson, Karl G. “The Learned Sturlungar and the Emergence of Icelandic Literate Culture.” In Snorri Sturluson and Reykholt. The Author and Magnate, his Life, Works and Environment at Reykholt in Iceland, edited by Guðrún Sveinbjarnardóttir and Helgi Þorláksson, 333–​88. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum, 2018. Johansson, Karl G. Studier i Codex Wormianus. Skrifttradition och avskriftsverksamhet vid ett isländskt skriptorium under 1300-​talet. Nordistica Gothoburgensia 20. Gothenburg: Acta Universitatis Gothoburgensis, 1997. Jón Þórarinsson. Íslensk tónlistarsaga 1100–​1800. Reykjavik: Tónlistarsafn Íslands, 2012. Lawrence, C.H. Medieval Monasticism: Forms of Religious Life in Western Europe in the Middle Ages. London: Longman, 1989. Lusset, Élisabeth. Crime, châtiment et grâce dans les monastères au Moyen Âge (XIIe–​ XVe siècle). Disciplina monastica 12. Turnhout: Brepols, 2017. Males, Mikael. “Wormianusredaktören: Språk, tro och sanning vid 1300-talets mitt.” Arkiv för Nordisk Filologi 128 (2013): 41–​77. Olmer, Emil. Boksamlingar på Island 1179–​1490: Enligt diplom. Göteborg, 1902. ONP: Dictionary of Old Norse Prose. http://​onp.ku.dk/​onp. Raschellà, Fabrizio D. The so-​called Second Grammatical Treatise: An Orthographic Pattern of Late Thirteenth-​Century Icelandic. Filologia germanica: Testi e studi 2. Firenze: F. Le Monnier, 1982. Róbert Abraham Ottósson. Sancti Thorlaci episcopi officia rhythmica et proprium missaæ in am 241 A folio. Copenhagen: Munksgaard, 1959. Schottmann, Hans. Die isländische Mariendichtung. Munich: Fink, 1973.

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Stefán Karlsson. “Icelandic Lives of Thomas á Becket: Questions of Authorship.” In Proceedings of the First International Saga Conference, University of Edinburgh 1971, edited by Peter Foote, Hermann Pálsson and Desmond Slay, 212–​43. London: Viking Society for Northern Research, 1973. Sverrir Tómasson. “Norðlenski benediktínaskólinn.” In Tækileg vitni, edited by Svanhildur Óskarsdóttir, 345–​58. Reykjavik: Hið íslenska bókmenntafélag, 2011. Vésteinn Ólason, ed. Íslensk bókmenntasaga ii. Reykjavik: Mál og menning, 1993. Wollin, Lars. “Stjórn och Pentateukparafrasen: Ett samnordiskt dominikanprojekt i högmedeltiden?” Arkiv för nordisk filologi 116 (2001): 221–​99.

Appendices

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appendix 1

The Account of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (Jón’s þáttr) Now shall be mentioned a venerable man, the Most Reverend Jón Halldórsson, the thirteenth bishop of Skálholt in Iceland.1 He was the most honorable man of his station as will long be remembered in northern lands, for his life for the most part was such that, after becoming a preacher in the Kingdom of Norway, he went, very young, to study, all the way to Paris and later to Bologna. He then returned fully mature from the schools, the wisest cleric that has come to Norway, and he was therefore ordained and elected bishop of Skálholt by Archbishop Eilífr.2 Now anyone can discern with what good will he would amuse people in his presence with the exotic tales he had acquired abroad, both from reading and personal experience, and in witness thereof we will give in this booklet but a very small part of that large matter, for some men in Iceland compiled his stories for their own and other people’s pleasure. We will first relate one adventure from each school, Paris and Bologna, that took place while he was there. Shortly after he arrived in Paris, he entered the most illustrious school there was. He was in his youth at the time and of little understanding compared to later. From the very beginning, and this would persist into his later years, God always granted him much favor among men, especially those most dignified and wise. The headmaster and the whole congregation in the school had therefore much affection and high regard for the youth, as may be seen in what follows. It so happened one day when the master was reading in his book, which was very great in size, that he begged to relieve himself outside the school and laid the open 1 Original translation by Marteinn H. Sigurðsson in “The Life and Literary Legacy of Jón Halldórsson, Bishop of Skálholt: A Profile of a Preacher in Fourteenth-​Century Iceland” (MPhil diss., University of St Andrews, 1997), supplemented and revised for this volume by Gunnar Harðarson and Mikael M. Karlsson, with permission. The revised translation is based on the edition of Söguþáttur af Jóni Halldórssyni biskupi in Biskupa sögur III, edited by Guðrún Ása Grímsdóttir, Íslenzk fornrit 17 (Reykjavik: Hið íslenzka fornritafélag, 1998), 442–​56. The division of the text is based on am 657 a–b 4°, 98v–​100v (c.1350). Words and sentences in italics are written in Latin in the original. In the Old Norse text, the verbs move between the past and present tense which is a characteristic of Old Norse narrative style. These characteristics are retained in the translation. 2 Eilífr Árnason korti (the short?) is mentioned as a canon of Nidaros Cathedral in 1303. He was elected Archbishop of Nidaros in 1309 and consecrated in Avignon two years later by Pope Clement v. He attended the Council of Vienne in France, the 15th Ecumenical council that lasted from October 1311 until May 1312. He followed a conciliatory policy during his reign as archbishop (1311–​32). In 1328 his cathedral in Nidaros was badly damaged by a fire and some of his letters asking for assistance in its reconstruction have been preserved.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_014

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book down on his high seat before walking out. Now the aforementioned boy was at once curious to how well he might read a chapter from his master’s book. He therefore ran up the steps which lead to the seat and began to read what met the eye. But when he had read one chapter, a creaking din struck the house with a furious storm, as if everything were being thrown into disorder, and at that very moment the doors were opened. When Jón heard this and understood that the master was about to come in, he hurried as he could back to his seat. As the master came rushing in, he said and swore by the name of Almighty God that if this storm continued into the evening it would make every lake in France dry. “Or how is it,” he said, “did none of you play mischief with my book after I left?” Now the boy, Jón, was so popular that not one wished to inform against him. “And I therewith sensed,” said Bishop Jón, “that I had sat as long as I could. I fell forward contrite, confessing what I had done, and the master answered me thus: ‘I will be lenient with you, Jón,’ he said, ‘but yet you should have an eye open for what you might read while you do not better understand.’ ” The master thereupon hastened up toward the book and turned to another page. “He then read one chapter,” said the Lord Bishop Jón, “and it seemed to me of about the same length as the one I had read previously. And without delay, as the chapter was completed, the storm fell so suddenly that there was absolute calm. One can infer from events such as these,” said the bishop, “how much art endures in books although the world grows old.” As for Bologna, he related the following adventure that took place while he dwelt there. There were two schoolfellows who had the same name. One of them had come from as far west as England and their names were divided in the school for identification so that one was called John the Norseman and the other John the Englishman. It needs to be noted in this tale that the cathedral in Bologna was formed in such a way that there are two large lion-​heads situated in the portal, one on each side, as if they were peering at one another with gaping maws. Now it so happened one day that the schoolfellows we have named walked amicably together out of the cathedral. As they passed through the portal Jón the Englishman looked back towards one of the lion-​heads and said smiling to his namesake: “I had a strange vision last night,” he said, “I thought myself walk this way and just as I entered the portal it seemed to me that one of the lion-​heads came to life and bit off my right hand. Now tell me, friend, what this should signify, for you Northmen interpret dreams well.” Brother Jón thought the vision strange, but merely replied with the usual adage that bad dreams often forebode trifles. They then walked around the cathedral speaking of this and that, turning finally southwards and back to the portal. And just as they thought to enter, Jón the Englishman reached with his right hand and pointed a finger into the mouth of one of the lions saying this: “It was this very lion I thought bit off my hand last night.” And in the twinkling of an eye, just when he had so spoken, he

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tumbled in onto the cathedral-​floor as if killed. And this was indeed so, for he breathed no more. Now the cause of this weird occurrence was revealed by the search of shrewd men: Into the lion-​head’s mouth, where it was dark, there had crawled a viper that is called aspis. It has such a deadly poison that whoever’s limb touches the front of its tailbone suffers sudden death as if spears were shot through the heart, as the said event attests. It should not be forgotten in honor of this man, Bishop Jón Halldórsson, that he had schoolmates abroad who later became cardinals. This could be seen when some of them sent him their letters all the way north to Iceland, somewhat tinged, as it were, with sadness due to so great a distance of such a father and a friend. This was not strange, for no man of such station could ease the mind and amuse others as he did. And because his audience was often not of one mind, he would adapt himself, when he heard, so as to make everyone glad by his words. Some of his tales were therefore both worldly and outspoken, and there were people who found this to be a fault with him; but only to appreciate it all the more now how his heart was rich in virtues and devoted to love of his neighbor, so that the words of the apostle would truly be fulfilled in him, “that all things work together for good to them that love God. ” (Rom. 8:28). This seems verily fulfilled when it is reported of this blessed bishop that he is now glorified with innumerable signs, both where he lies buried in Bergen and widely elsewhere. It may justly be said that God gave a presage of this before Jón left Iceland for the last time. For during the previous night, before he set sail, he had a momentous vision. It seemed to him that he was already in Bergen among his brothers at the preachers’ friary and church and thought he was asked to deliver a sermon. Walking therewith up onto the choir-​loft, he commenced with this theme: Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord (Rev. 14:13). On this he thought himself to preach and afterwards he looked around. There then stood one man on each side of him and he thought he recognized both: Archbishop Eilífr, his ordinating father, and King Magnús Hákonarson.3 Both of them had passed away. Now when he had completed the sermon, the two of them took hold of him, each of them one arm, and they led him up onto the choir-​loft. They then came to a ladder leading up through the church-​roof and they thereupon went all the way up and out of the building. On the other side of the gable there could be seen a prepared bed, so it appeared to him, and there he was meant to rest. He related this dream the following morning to a close friend of his who gave this reply: “You will there,” he said, “be higher and more honored than anything exalted in that church.” The bishop, however, looked at him very angrily and told him to be quiet, for it is the custom of God’s servants to guard humility better than bright gold.

3 King Magnús vi Hákonarson (1263–​80) lagabœtir, “the law-​mender”.

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But what appeared to him towards the close of his life, just when he was preaching God’s message, may justly be said to signify that God has for that very kind of service granted him a fair rest. For no man, in his native land or elsewhere, has been so graced with this gift within memory of men. We shall now relate an adventure he himself included in his sermon –​when he was bishop of Skálholt, on Þorlákr’s feast in the summer and at the farmstead called Staðarhóll in the Westfjords quarter and [relate] how just the blessed Þorlákr was and zealous in keeping to God’s law. He set forth this chosen example such as it here stands. A certain high-​born man, very powerful, resided at a certain place. He held no higher rank than that of a knight, but due to his kinship and his might he had authority over many men who held the same title as he. This lord was so very righteous and wise in his rule, as this story will tell, that he always respected the facts of a case and gave no heed to bribery or discrimination, whosoever was involved, whether someone close or unrelated. In his residence and at his table there was a young man, the son of his sister by kinship, who served him daily along with other well-​mannered men who were both many and of noble descent. This place was very wealthy and populous, and there was a bishop in the town. Now the story begins as follows that the said lord fell ill with a disease that brought him later to his death; he suffers a long time for the illness was not severe at the outset. The house where he lay was of such a disposition that there were two adjacent rooms; he lay in the inner one and there was a thin partition between the rooms with a closed door. It so happens one day when there are few people around him that he hears some commotion that he did not like, and as his confidents entered the room, he asks them what nuisance and struggle there had been in the outer room. They said they did not know that anything had happened worthy of being reported. He then spoke: “I remind you of the obedience that you owe me to tell me the truth, but what you hide from me or lie about to me, I charge you all with responsibility to God, if what is worth great suffering in the laws goes unpunished because of your wickedness, for now I cannot attend to the trial if you want to serve me without integrity.” By these and other reprimands he presses them until they say with a sorrowful mind that the young man, his nephew, forced himself there upon a woman with full force. As the lord heard how the matter stood he calls expressly to the one of his attendants who wielded the power of the law since he fell ill, ordering him to impose, without delay, the appropriate punishment upon the neck of the perpetrator, according to the severity of the law. And because everyone knew his righteousness and determination, no one dares to protest in front of him although they found the judgement to be harsh, and thus they immediately leave the house with the objective of accomplishing what they had been ordered. But during the time they head for the court, they turn aside, for they find it an unbearable harm to lose such a noble man and promising chief.

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They decided among themselves that they would keep him in secret but tell their master that he had been executed and wait in the hope that illness and bodily death will decide the matter for them. They now put both in action. So many days go by that the illness of the lord turns to a wasting sickness. The young man then becomes bored with staying in hiding and from day to day he becomes more daring until he thinks that the wrath of his uncle must be somewhat mitigated, and therefore he decides by himself one day to visit him as if to find it out. But as soon as he enters and they recognize each other, the mighty man addresses him as if smiling: “And there you are, nephew,” he says, “come here to me.” Young man thinks that he wants to make peace with him with a tender kiss and to take him back to full friendship, and he therefore bows over his bed but there he finds something different: with one hand the lord grabs him with all his might but with the other he seizes a dagger that lay beside his bed and runs it through his throat, then then rips it out through the hollow and pushes him back dead onto the floor. But the speeches he later addressed to his underlings were both harsh and strong of expression, what deceit they had shown both unto the law and to their master. Now the time of the mighty man passes so that the disease toughens its grip with such harshness that he thinks it certain that his end is near, and because he was equal to a king, even if he was inferior by title, the service of anointment belongs to the bishop only. And as that message comes to the bishop, he prepares himself and all his clerics with all due honor, adorns himself and especially the two learned men that walked next to him; one of them carries the Lord’s body and the other a chrismatory.4 As they come in and have greeted each other, the mighty man says that he wants to confess before the bishop before he receives his service. All the attendants were then in the outer room as the door was closed, and when the mighty man has finished his confession that he thought would suffice the bishop remains silent and gives neither prayer nor absolution but speaks after a short pause: “Is this your complete confession?” he says. The lord replies: “It is complete in all that your paternity sees that serves me, but where my forgetfulness or ignorance diminishes it, I pray you for the name of God that you show me a salutary itinerary thereabout.” The bishop replies: “It seems strange that such a wise man should pretend to need to be reminded by another man of the thing that so recently happened that no forgetfulness or passage of time can have hidden it from you.” “What is that, my lord?” says the mighty man. “The one,” says the bishop, “if you will hear it from me, that you abused your nephew and cut his throat.”

4 A chrismatory is a small receptacle where consecrated oil (chrism) is kept.

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Hereupon the mighty man smiles: “Yes, yes, my lord,” he says, “if you call this case of mine very ugly, then I will dare to do where I now lie, to offer this case from you to the feet of the judge who all things weighs with justice.” At these words the bishop is enraged and sends forth his cries; says that he will not receive any service unless he accepts to turn himself to the judgement of the church for the killing, and as the covert discussion is ended the ones that stood outside enter the room. Their differences are now discussed overtly, but the mighty man speaks softly and yet so determined that nothing moves until the bishop rises and asks all his men to go away. The sick man speaks: “My lord,” he says, “although you disapprove so much of me that I will lose all the service that God has ordered for the help of Christian men for their last moments, I ask you to grant me the sight of our Lords body before you recede.” And because this matter seemed sad to many a man, the bishop accepts, at the suggestion of many good men, to grant him his wish, and when he had opened up the propitiatory5 and untangled the linen cloth, there came to sight no body of the Lord for the vessel is empty. The bishop was stricken with great fear because of this, as was everyone else who knew just as well as he did, that they had placed the oblate6 into the vessel before they left the church. And when the mighty noble saw their surprise he asked: “What fear has gripped you?”, he said, “or what have you to say”? The bishop answered and said that the host had gone out of its wrapping. The mighty noble then said: “If it is not here, then perhaps with God’s will it is here.” And when everyone looked towards him, he opened up his mouth and presented before everyone’s eyes the host white and pure lying on his tongue. Now there is a quick reversal. The bishop fell forward and begged for God’s mercy and the mighty noble’s forgiveness for this misunderstanding contrary to God’s judgement. He then with a tearful devotion ministered to that good man. The mighty noble ended his days of illness and was buried with all the more honor and everyone’s devotion the better it was known how God himself deemed his steadfastness and righteousness. Here ends this exemplary tale. When Bishop Jón arrived in Norway, he resided in Bergen for the winter at the preachers’ friary he had first entered already in childhood. He was taken ill after Christmas, not very seriously at first, but when it drew towards the Purification of Saint Mary,7 he 5 A propitiatory (propiciatorium in the original) here refers to the vessel containing the oblates that serve as the sacramental body of Christ. 6 An oblate (here) is the bread used for the altar service. 7 Candlemas, celebrated on 5 February in commemoration of the purification of Mary in the Temple after having given birth to her son Jesus and his presentation there as her first-​born.

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was ministered to and in all respects prepared for his passing by Hákon, his brother in ordination, at that time the bishop of Bergen. When Candlemas came, he grew much worse. Throughout his illness, he was eager and admirable in his reading of the Office, doing so day and night without fail. Early in the morning on the feast day itself he read the entire Office of our Lady the Mother of God. When the hour of prime had passed, he sent word to the prior of the house requesting that he read for him Mary’s mass with plainchants8 of the feast in the chamber where he lay. While the mass was being celebrated, the Lord bishop lay in bed reclining somewhat against a cushion, and he gave the prior a blessing before the evangel. But shortly after the Sacrament had been administered, the prior heard from him a faint snore, as it were, or a light slumber. This went on until he had completed the Service, at which moment the drowsiness departed from the Lord bishop and he gave a beautifully clear benediction after the mass. Now when the benediction was completed and before the prior read the Gospel of John: in the beginning (John 1:1), he walked in full ceremonial dress away from the altar and approached the bishop’s bed. He must have walked as quickly as he did by the will of God, for there was now not much time left to speak, as was soon to be revealed. He said this: “My Lord,” he said, “did you fall asleep a short while ago?” The bishop replied: “I cannot clearly tell whether I fell into a swoon, fainted or slept, but I did see something.” “What did you see, my Lord?” said the prior. “It seemed to me,” he said, “that a gentle maiden and well clad walked into this chamber. Her dress resembled most that of good nuns and she held a burning candle in each hand. She approached my bed and thereupon went up to the ceiling and through the roof and I expect she went to heaven.” The prior replied: “What do you think this means, my Lord?” The bishop answered: “I am not sure. But if it were not the case, as I should fear, that my soul is weighed down with great sins, then I would not think it unlikely that its image had here appeared to me and that its passage would lead to where she went in advance.” When these words had been spoken, the prior bowed to receive the blessing and read the Gospel of John. The bishop blessed him then with these words: “Dominus sit in corde tuo et in labiis tuis.” They are translated thus: “May the Lord be in your heart and on your lips.” These words were the last he spoke in this world. He lost speech while the gospel was being read and sent forth his spirit as the bells of the town’s cathedral rang the

8 Plainchant is the singing of a single melodic line without accompaniment.

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terce9 on that blessed day of Our Lady the Mother of God. His body was buried with full honor in the church of the same friary, the one he had first entered and later served in under the preachers’ rule. 9 The terce (tertia) at 9 a.m. is the third canonical hour when the Divine Office is chanted.

appendix 2

Bishop Hákon of Bergen to Bishop Jón of Skálholt To your kind attention we make known that we have suffered from some weakness and illness from Ash Wednesday to the present –​now rapidly healing, for which we thank God –​and therefore we were late to learn of the preparations of those good men who leave for Iceland at this time; so that neither wine nor other things were available that one could send to one’s friends.1 From neither Flanders nor England there came not so much as one cup of red, white or sweet wine, and although some Rhinish wine came from Germany it was no good. We send to you –​asking you not to despise it –​one shining heathen cloth and one box of gingerbread.2 This is only the least and poorest remembrance of the goodness that we owe to your goodwill. We will make amends with the ships that leave later, if God wills that something may come to us from Flanders or England. We also send you a protection letter of our King under the form that you may see for yourself.3 Which if it seems to you defective in one or more articles, you will have to write back to us concerning that and we will try to procure a new letter for you which we are confident to obtain. Here there is no news, except that brother Peter Abo salutes you in every letter that he writes to us.4 Among other things he told us that the Lord Pope5 has publicly in his consistory excommunicated the Bolognese, for the reason that they irreverently and violently expelled a legate who wanted to enter there, and completely destroyed the cathedral church together with the fortification that they had recently built, and took possession of

1 Translated from the edition in Diplomatarium Norvegicum 7: 170–​71 by Gunnar Harðarson and Mikael M. Karlsson. Words and sentences in italics are written in Latin in the original. For a study of the correspondence of Bishop Hákon, see Bjarne Berulfsen, En stilistisk og språklig undersøkelse av brevene fra Håkon Erlingsson, biskop i Bergen 1332–​1342 (Oslo: Aschehoug, 1933) and Kulturtradisjon fra en storhetstid. En kulturhistorisk studie på grunnlag av den private brevlitteratur i første halvdel av det 14. hundreår (Oslo: Gyldendal, 1948). 2 ‘Shining heathen cloth’ translates skínandi hæiðneskr vefnaðr, which probably means silk; ‘gingerbread’ translates gingibraad, which must have been another rarity imported from Flanders. 3 The king in question is Magnús vii Eiríksson (1319–​43) of Sweden and Norway. 4 Peter Abo is Petrus de Abo, a Dominican brother from Åbo (now Turku) in Finland, who is mentioned as papal penitentiary in Avignon on 23 June 1338 and for the last time on 8 September 1346; by 20 August 1347 he had passed away. See Eldbjørg Haug, “Minor Papal Penitentiaries of Dacia, their Lives and Careers in Context (1263–​1408),” Collegium Medievale 21 (2008): 110–​12, and the references appended thereto. It was suggested by Jarl Gallén that Hákon, Jón, and Peter were fellow students in Paris and/​or Bologna. 5 The pope in question is Benedict xii (1334–​42).

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_015

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Bishop Hákon of Bergen to Bishop Jón of Skálholt

the goods when they had had their fill of plunder, but they will never be absolved without giving sufficient satisfaction for the aforementioned.6 Þórarinn, the one who knows a bit how to paint and write, is with us, saying that he has been absolved by you for the violence that he has inflicted on a priest of yours, but if it is not as he says we pray that you commit to us your authority to absolve him, which you may safely do if it pleases you, in virtue of the Sabinean privilege, in case he mutilated none of his members. He asked us also to ask you to help him so that he could get his belongings from Sir Eiríkr and the others that now retain them.7 May [God keep you now and always]. Written in Bergen on the feast day of Basileius, bishop and confessor, AD 1338.8 6 In the struggle between the Guelphs and the Ghibellines, the Pepoli family, led by Taddeo Pepoli, used armed force to secure its control of the city of Bologna. 7 This Þórarinn is identified as Þórarinn Eiríksson pentur ‘painter’ who in 1335 wounded the priest Ásgrímr in the churchyard of Vatnsfjörður: “Særdur sira Asgrimr j Vasfirdi af Þorarne Eirecs syni j kirkiv gardi” (Islandske Annaler indtil 1578, ed. Gustav Storm (Christiania, 1888), 349). Bishop Jón Halldórsson consecrated the (re)decorated church in 1336 (Islandske Annaler, 350). According to P.A. Munch, Samlinger til det norske Folks Språk og Historie, vol. 5 (Christiania, 1838), 122–​23, the Sabinean privilege may be traceable to Cardinal William of Sabina (c.1184–​1251), cf. Gustav Donner, Kardinal Wilhelm von Sabina, Bischof von Modena 1222–​1234: päpstlicher Legat in den nordischen Ländern (Helsingfors, 1929). The absolution must have been granted, for Bishop Hákon recommends Þórarinn in a letter addressed to Bishop Jón Indriðason of Skálholt on 26 June 1340 and simultaneously issues a general letter of recommendation for “Þorarin Æiriksson,” whom he calls his “personal assistant” (“hæimilegher swæinn,” see Diplomatarium Islandicum 2:731–​32, cf. Diplomatarium Islandicum 2:723). Sir Eiríkr is Eiríkr Sveinbjarnarson (c.1277–​1342) who lived in Vatnsfjörður; he was knighted by King Hákon v in 1316 and served as hirðstjóri for the North and the West for almost two decades (1323–​41). Björn Th. Björnsson in his “Þáttur af Þórarni pentur,” printed in his Brotasilfur (Reykjavik: Heimskringla, 1955), 26–​33, suggested that Þórarinn might have been the illuminator of the Codex Hardenbergianus (Copenhagen, The Royal Library, gks 1154 fol.), which would have been made for Bishop Hákon during his years in Norway. See Stefan Drechsler and Christian Etheridge in this volume. 8 That is, on 14 June 1338.

appendix 3

The Booklist of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson Christian Etheridge Gustav Storm in 1880 referred to the owner of the booklist in the manuscript Uppsala, Universitetsbibliotek uub C 564 as being the Bishop of Bergen, Árni Sigurðsson (†1314), due to the inscription Hos libros possidet b Aquila found in the manuscript followed by a list of 36 book titles.1 This attribution was followed in the 1913 edition of the book list by Oluf Kolsrud, and also in the influential article by Arne Odd Johnsen from 1953 on Bishop Árni’s period of studying at the University of Orléans.2 Whether b Aquila actually referred to Árni Sigurðsson was disputed by both Stefán Karlson and Mattias Tveitane at the turn of the 1980s.3 Recent scholarship has acknowledged the doubts about the attribution of Árni Sigurðsson, especially those of Tveitane, although they have generally tended to still favour Árni Sigurðsson as the booklist owner, especially with the lack of an alternative candidate. This is the position favoured recently by Sverre Bagge, Espen Karlsen, Gunnar Harðarson and Åslaug Ommundsen. This view was challenged by Karl G. Johansson who offered Bjarne Erlingsson as an alternative candidate to Árni Sigurðsson.4 uub C 564 itself is a late 13th-​century manuscript copy of Gaufridus de Trano’s Summa de rubricis decretalium, with the inscription and booklist found on folio 2r.5 The reproduction below follows the previous editions of Storm, Kolsrud and Johansson but the order of book titles has been changed and is instead broken down into the book’s respective genres. This has been done as an aid to understanding the 1 For the original attribution of Árni Sigurðsson as the library owner and the first edition of the booklist see Storm, “Den Bergenske Biskop Arnes Bibliothek.” Further editions and attributions of the booklist are Kolsrud and Reiss, Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde med Melodiar, 58–​70 and Johansson, “Queen Eufemia, the Norwegian Élite and the Background of the Eufemiavisor,” 141–​144. 2 Kolsrud, and Reiss, Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, and Johnsen, “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene Arne og Audfinn?“ 95. 3 Karlsson, “Islandsk bogeksport til Norge i middelalderen,” 1–​17 and Tveitane, “Bøker og litteratur i Bergen i middelalder og reformasjonstid,” 106–​108; for a summary of this argument see Holm-​Olsen, Med fjærpenn og pergament, 131. 4 Bagge, From Viking Stronghold to Christian Kingdom, 273; Karlsen, “Latin Manuscripts of Medieval Norway, 31–​32; Harðarson, “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 44; Ommundsen, “Traces of Latin Education,” 256 esp. n.36; Johansson, “Queen Eufemia,” 141–​144. 5 The manuscript is catalogued in Mittelalterliche Handschriften der Universitätsbibliothek Uppsala, ed. Andersson-​Schmitt et al., 26–​27.

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_016

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The Booklist of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson

interests of the owner of the books and therefore to aid in assessing b Aquila’s identity. I have been able to identify several texts that have been unidentified until now, therefore making the edition below the most complete to date. The texts are arranged into several sub-​categories and are given their full titles. The arts were the subjects for the bachelor and master’s courses at the medieval university. These being the trivium of grammar, logic, and rhetoric and the quadrivium of arithmetic, geometry, music, and astronomy. These are followed here by volumes from the higher faculties of law and theology. This is followed by works of liturgy and history. The volumes here are arranged by title, author, notes, and the number of where the title appeared in the original list from uub c 564 noted above. The collection is undoubtedly that of a learned cleric who had spent time at a university abroad where he had studied the arts, law and theology. This cleric was learned in both Latin and Old Norse material. In my opinion, Bishop Árni seems the most likely candidate for owning these books, although it is possible that another high ranking and learned cleric who studied at a university may be b Aquila. It would certainly be representative of the volumes available to scholars in Bergen and it is not beyond the realms of possibility that it may have even belonged to Jón Halldórsson himself.

1 Arts 1.1 Grammar 1.1.1

Flores gramatice by Gentile da Cingoli (fl. 1292–​1318) [no 14]

1.1.2

Paraphrasis metrica in Tobiam by Matthew of Vendôme (fl. 1182–​ 87) [no 15]

A grammar textbook. Storm believed the entry Flores Gramaticæ referred to a verse grammar. It was not identified by either Kolsrud or Johansson. Ommundsen noted that the Flores grammaticales metricos could be one of any of the more popular versified grammars. I would state that a possible identification of this text could point to the grammar textbook Flores gramatice of Gentile da Cingoli, chair in philosophy at the University of Bologna (1292–​1318), he was a contemporary of Jón Halldórsson and also an influence on Dante.6

A grammar set text that was an allegory on the Book of Tobit. Storm could not identify the author of this text, but it was identified as Matthew of Vendôme’s Paraphrasis metrica in Tobiam by Kolsrud and confirmed by Johansson. Johnsen identified it as a 6 Storm, “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Kolsrud, Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 66; Johansson, “Queen Eufemia,” 143; Ommundsen, “Traces of Latin Education,” 256; For Cingoli and his Flores gramatice see Witt, Two Latin Cultures, 377 n.102.

Appendix 3

305

text of French influence therefore identifying it with Árni Sigurðsson’s career at the University of Orléans. Ommundsen also identified the text as a glossed version of the versified Tobias, probably the poem ascribed to Matthew of Vendôme. The Paraphrasis metrica in Tobiam was used as a grammar set text for studying.7

1.1.3

Derivationes/​Auctores minores by Huguccio Pisanus (c.1130–​1210) [no 16]

The Derivationes was one of the most important lexicographical encyclopedias of the Middle Ages, while the Auctores minores were used in teaching grammar. Storm concluded that the Derivationes minores was a dissertation on the parts of speech with glosses on Donatus. Kolsrud had this as Derivationes Prisciani which as Excerpts from Priscian was queried by Johansson, but who gave no alternative title. A possible explanation of the title is that the Derivationes minores instead refer to two popular grammatical works. The first is the Derivationes by Huguccio Pisanus, one of the most important and popular dictionaries of the Middle Ages. The second is the Auctores minores also known as the Auctores octo. This was the collective term for excerpts from eight writers or texts used in grammar teaching. These being Cato, Theodulus, Facetus, Chartula, the Liber parabolum, Tobias, Aesopus, Floretus, and sometimes Donatus and Avianus. In contrast the Auctores maiores were more complex classical authors such as Virgil, Ovid, and Cicero.8

1.1.4

De modis significandi by Martinus de Dacia (†1304) [no 23]

A work on the modes of signifying that used grammar and logic. This was unidentified by Storm and the eight partes orationis was seen by Kolsrud as maybe the Ars Minor of Donatus. Johansson noted it as an unidentified textbook on the eight partes orationis, possibly the Ars Minor of Donatus. Ommundsen saw it as one book on the parts of speech. It seems likely that this is a work from one of the Modists of the late 13th/​early 14th centuries. Modism was a school of medieval philosophy developed by the Danish master at Paris, Martinus de Dacia (†1304). His De modis significandi (modes or ways of signifying) used logic and grammar and also dwelt on the eight parts of speech. This treatise widely read and later commented on during the Middle Ages.9 7 “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 66; “Queen Eufemia,” 143; Johnsen, “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene?” 95, “Traces of Latin Education,” 256; Minnis, “Tobit’s Dog and the Dangers of Literalism,” 43 n.10. 8 “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 66; “Queen Eufemia,” 143; for the Derivationes see Uguccione da Pisa; for the Auctores minores see Ciccolella, Donati Graeci, 68–​69. 9 Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 67; “Queen Eufemia,” 143; “Traces of Latin Education,” 256; for Martinus de Dacia see Martini de Dacia Opera, ed. Roos; Pinborg, Die Entwicklung der Sprachtheorie im Mittelalter; Ebbesen, “Martinus de Dacia.”

306  1.1.5

The Booklist of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson

Glosa super Donatum (anonymous) [no 24]

An unknown gloss on the Ars grammatica by Aelius Donatus. This was identified as Donatus by Kolsrud and the glosses for Donatus by Ommundsen. There were more than 200 commentaries on the Ars grammatica by Aelius Donatus in the Middle Ages, many of them anonymous.10

1.2 Logic 1.2.1

Summulae logicales by Petrus Hispanus (c.1215–​77) [no 25]

1.2.2

Opera super veterem logicam by Radulphus Brito (c.1270–​1320) [no 26]

A popular university textbook on Aristotelian logic. Gunnar Harðarson identified it as the Summulae logicales, a university textbook on Aristotelian logic by Peter of Spain who was possibly Pedro Julião (c.1215–​77) later Pope John xxi.11

A collection of the Ars vetus (Old Logic). Medieval logic was divided into Ars vetus (Old Logic) and Ars nova (New Logic). The Ars vetus consisted of the Categories and De Interpretatione of Aristotle, the Isagoge of Porphyry, the anonymous Liber sex principiorum, and several works of Boethius. The Ars nova added the rest of Aristotle’s Organon on logic in Latin translation during the 12th century. The version in the booklist could be the Quaestiones super Artem veterem by the Parisian master Radulphus Brito (c.1270–​1320).12

1.2.3

Fallacie logicales by Pseudo-​Thomas Aquinas (fl.1260s) [no 27]

A work on fallacies in logic. Fallacies in logic were treated by Aristotle’s Sophistici Elenchi. Several treatises titled De fallaciis were known, as well as being treated in Peter of Spain’s Summulae logicales. The volume in the booklist has either been separated from the Summulae logicales and therefore the owner would have two copies of it, or it is another title, probably the popular Pseudo-​Thomas Aquinas De fallaciis (1260s).13

10 11 12 13

Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 67; “Traces of Latin Education,” 256; for Donatus see Bursill-​ Hall, “Medieval Donatus Commentaries.” “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 44; the three texts on logic were unidentified by Storm, Kolsrud or Johansson; for Peter of Spain and his work see Peter of Spain, Summaries of Logic. See Ebbesen and Pinborg, “Gennadios and Western Scholasticism.” See Ebbesen, “The Way Fallacies were Treated.”

Appendix 3

307

1.3 Rhetoric 1.3.1

Summa dictaminum Bernadi by Bernard of Bologna (fl.1144–​ 45) [no 9]

A treatise on the art of writing prose composition. This text was first attributed to Bernhard of Clairvaux by Storm, an attribution followed by Kolsrud. Johnsen claimed that this text was instead referring to either Bernard Silvester or to Bernard de Meung who was a huge influence on the schools of Orléans and therefore could tie the text closer to Árni Sigurðsson’s time at the university there. Johansson noted the earlier attribution of this text by Storm and Kolsrud to Bernard of Clairvaux and refers to Berulfsen who instead attributes this as the Summa dictaminum by Bernard of Meung or possibly Bernard Silvester. These texts on medieval rhetoric referred to above are the Flores dictaminum of Bernard of Meung and the Summa dictaminis of Bernard Sylvester. However, another likely candidate is the Summa dictaminum magistri Bernadi by Bernard of Bologna from 1144 or 1145.14

1.4 Computus 1.4.1

Compotus cum tabulis by Gerlandus (c.1030–​1102) [no 17]

A treatise on calculating the calendar with accompanying tables. Storm described the two computistical texts [with no 18] in the booklist as calendars with instructions for their use and as belonging to astronomy, the first part of the quadrivium. Kolsrud noted that these were books on time-​reckoning and chronology and gave some possible titles: Bede, De temporum ratione; the anonymous De ratione computi; Rabanus Maurus, Liber de computo or Helpericus, Liber de computo. Johansson noted that these were textbooks in mathematics and chronology. It seems likely that the Compotum cum tabulis could actually refer to the popular computus treatise with tables, the Tabula Gerlandi by Gerlandus (c.1030–​1102). This treatise is found in other contemporary late 13th-​/​early 14th-​century manuscripts from Denmark such as Copenhagen, Det Kongelige Bibliotek gks 1810 4°and nks 275 a 4°as well as Stockholm, Kungliga Biblioteket x 767.15

14 15

“Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 65; “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene?” 95; “Queen Eufemia,” 142; Berulfsen, Kulturtradisjon fra en storhetstid, 120–​126; for Bernhard of Bologna see Camargo, “The Varieties of Prose Dictamen.” “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 66; “Queen Eufemia,” 143; for Tabula Gerlandi see Der Computus Gerlandi, ed. Lohr.

308  1.4.2

The Booklist of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson

Computus manualis by Johannes de Pulchro Rivo (fl.1289–​98) [no 18]

A computistical treatise for using the hand in calculation. Specifically a work of calculating the computus by using the joints of the fingers. This could be either of two works connected to Johannes de Pulchro Rivo. The first is the Computus manualis from 1275 of which the association is likely but unsure. The second treatise by him is titled Compilatio elucidans compotum manualem from 1289. Treatises under this name were common, but these two are the only ones known in medieval Scandinavia, all found today in manuscripts held in the Uppsala Universitetsbibliotek. The Computus manualis is found in uub C 229 and uub C 237, while Compilatio elucidans compotum manualem is found in uub C 19 and uub C 143.16 The 14th century Icelandic manuscript Copenhagen, Den Arnamagnæanske Samling am 732 4°, 8r has an image of a hand used for this type of calculation.

2 Law 2.1 2.1.1

Canon law Summa de rubricis Decretalium by Goffredus de Trano (c.1200–​ 1245) [no 1]

A legal treatise on the Decretals of Pope Gregory ix. Storm attributed it to Cardinal Goffredo de Trani and noted that this was the work contained in the manuscript Uppsala Universitetsbibliotek uub C 564 itself. Kolsrud noted the title as Summa Gaufridi de Trano super titulis decretalium. Johansson had this as the Summa de rubricis Decretalium by Goffredus de Trano. This text certainly is the well-​known legal treatise on the Decretals of Pope Gregory ix (1227–​41) written in 1241–​43 by the professor of canon law in Bologna, Goffredus de Trano.17

2.1.2

Summa Ræimundi glosata by William of Rennes op (fl.1235) [no 2]

A glossary to Raymond of Peñafort’s Summa de casibus poenitentiae based on Gratian’s Decretum Gratiani. Storm attributed this to the Dominican Raymond of Peñafort († 1275) but did not attribute the gloss. Kolsrud noted this as the work of Raymond of Peñafort but specifically the glosses of the Dominican William of Rennes and that it could be the manuscript Uppsala Universitetsbibliotek uub C 549. Kolsrud also noted that a Summa Remundi appears in the testament of Gerlacus, canon of Oslo Cathedral 16 17

Nothaft, “John of Pulchro Rivo and John of Saxony.” “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 60; “Queen Eufemia,” 142.

Appendix 3

309

dated to 1304. This is one of the texts which have a possible University of Orléans influence according to Johnsen. Johansson has this as the Summa de casibus poenitentiae by Raymond of Peñafort while Gunnar Harðarson has this text as the Summa Raimundi. This seems to be the glossary to Raymond of Peñafort’s collection of Gregory ix’s decretals probably by the Dominican William of Rennes. The uub C 549 manuscript seems to have been bought in Paris in 1414 by the Vadstena monk, Johannes Hildebrandi, and so has nothing to do with the list.18

2.1.3

Poenitentiarium quem dominus Arno episcopus Scalotensis dedit sibi. [no 10]

A penitentiary given by Bishop Árni Helgason of Skálholt (1304–​20). Kolsrud has this as a book that could have been received in 1308 from Bishop Árni of Skálholt. Johansson noted that if this was a Liber paenitentialis donated by Bishop Árni of Skálholt, this would either be a penitentiary donated by Bishop Árni Þorláksson (1269–​98) or Bishop Árni Helgason (1304–​20). The possible donation of books to Bishop Árni by the latter is supported by Bishop Árni Sigurðsson’s letter to him written 22 June 1308 which led Johansson to favour the second of the two Skálholt bishops.19

2.1.4

Poenitentiarium (anonymous) [no 13]

2.1.5

Zozimas by Pope Zosimus (†418) [no 21]

A penitentiary that Johansson has as a Liber paenitentialis, otherwise there is no commentary on this text.20

A set of early decretals. Storm was unsure of whom the name Zosimus referred to. He did not believe it was the Greek historian Zozimos who was never translated into Latin, nor Pope Zozimos (†418) of who only two letters survived or the alchemist Zozimos whose works were never translated into Latin. Kolsrud however believed these were the Decreta Zozimi papæ of Pope Zosimus. He was followed in this by Johansson who also believed these were the Decretals of Pope Zosimus (417–​18). Ommundsen believed that the text was obscure. According to Dunn, this text would refer to the Decretals by Pope Zosimus.21 18

19 20 21

“Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 62; “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene?” 95; “Queen Eufemia,” 142; “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 44; for uub C 549, see Mittelalterliche Handschriften, ed. Andersson-​Schmitt, 355–​356); the testament of Gerlacus is printed in Diplomatarium Norvegicum 2: 75. “Queen Eufemia,” 142. Bishop Arne’s letter is printed in Diplomatarium Norvegicum 2: 90. “Queen Eufemia,” 142. “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 67; “Queen Eufemia,” 143; “Traces of Latin Education,” 256; on Pope Zosimus, see Dunn, “The Emergence of Papal Decretals.”

310  2.2

The Booklist of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson

Secular Law

2.2.1

Logbok forn (anonymous) [no 29]

2.2.2

Logbok (anonymous) [no 30]

An old law book for the Gulaþing. Storm noticed that there was an old law book and what must have been a contemporary law book [no 30], both in Old Norse. The old law book could have been the old Gulathingslov. Kolsrud also pointed towards this being the Eldre Gulathingslog and specifically a version of Codex Rantzovianus, the manuscript Copenhagen, Det Kongelige Bibliotek, Don. Var. 137 4°, as a version of this. Johansson also believed that this was an old law book for use of the Gulaþing.22

Storm noted this could be a copy of Landsloven. Kolsrud had this as a lawbook with a series of laws, found as Lund hist. litt. 12 fol. Johansson pointed this as the Code of the Realm, Magnús lagabætrs Landslag. This could be the manuscript Lund Universitetsbibliotek Medeltidshandskrift 15: Codex Reenhielmianus, that in 1314 belonged to Árni Sigurðsson, according to Nelson.23

3 Theology 3.1 3.1.1

Theological Texts Veritas theologica by Hugo Ripelin of Strassburg op (c.1205–​ 65) [no 3]

A popular theological compendium. Storm translated this title as ‘the theological truth.’ Kolsrud pointed this text as a work by the Dominican Hugo of Strassburg. Johansson also concurred that the title was Veritatem theologicam but was unsure of whether it was that written by Hugo of Strassburg. This title does seem to refer to the Compendium theologicae veritatis of Hugo Ripelin of Strassburg.24

3.1.2

Homiliae in Evangelia by Pope Gregory i (c.540–​604) [no 4]

These are sermons with exegetical commentary. The manuscript has this as Gregorius Magnus Homiliae in Evangelia and was noted by Storm as Pope Gregory the Great’s homilies. This was confirmed by Kolsrud as the Homiliae XL Gregori papae magni and 22 23 24

“Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 68; “Queen Eufemia,” 144. “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 68; “Queen Eufemia,” 144; on Bishop Arne and the Codex Reenhielmianus, see Nelson, “Then Norska Laghboken.” “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 60; “Queen Eufemia,” 142; see also Steer, Hugo Ripelin von Straßburg.

Appendix 3

311

possibly the manuscript Uppsala Universitetsbibliotek uub C 29 from the 12th century that belonged to Árni Sigurðsson. Johansson also pointed to this text as being the Homilies by Pope Gregory.25

3.1.3

Excerpta de sententiis of Peter Lombard (c.1096–​1160) [no 5]

3.1.4

Enchiridion ad Laurentium by St Augustine (354–​430) [no 6]

3.1.5

Flores doctorum by Thomas Hibernicus (fl.1295–​1306) [no 7]

3.1.6

Super vitam Job by Peter of Blois (c.1130–​1211) [no 8]

These are excerpts from the theological textbook Libri quattuor sententiarum. Kolsrud thought this was most likely to be by Peter Lombard but possibly the Sentiarum summa of Hugh of St Victor. Johnsen believed that this title showed influence from the University of Orléans in the book list. Johansson favoured this title as excerpts from Sententiæ, possibly by Peter Lombard. Due to the popularity of this text in the Middle Ages it is most likely a collection of excerpts from Peter Lombard’s Libri Quattuor Sententiarum.26

A treatise on piety. Storm had this as Augustine’s handbook on faith, hope and love. Kolsrud noted this as the Enchiridion ad Laurentium by Augustine, this was confirmed by Johansson.27

A collection of extracts of patristic authors. Kolsrud noted that Thomas Hibernicus compiled the Manipulus florum in two parts, the Flores biblici and Flores doctorum in 1306. Kolsrud also noted that this work could have been brought to Árni by his brother Auðfinnr who was still in Orleans at this time. This was seen by Johnsen as a volume influenced by the University of Orléans. Johansson saw this as a florilegium and possibly the Flores doctorum by Thomas Hibernicus. This text is most likely to be part of the hugely popular Manipulus florum of Thomas Hibernicus.28

A treatise on the Book of Job. This was seen as the work of Peter of Blois by Storm. Kolsrud pointed out that this was the Compendium in Job by Peter of Blois and Johansson concurred on this.29

25 26 27 28 29

“Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 63; “Queen Eufemia,” 142; for the manuscript see Mittelalterliche Handschriften, 260. Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 65; “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene?” 95; “Queen Eufemia,” 142; on Peter Lombard see Rosemann, The Story of a Great Medieval Book. “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 65; “Queen Eufemia,” 142. Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 65; “Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene?” 95; “Queen Eufemia,” 142; on the Manipulus florum see Rouse & Rouse, Preachers, Florilegia and Sermons. “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 65; “Queen Eufemia,” 142.

312 

The Booklist of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson

3.1.7

Ligni vitæ by St Bonaventura ofm (1221–​74) [no 11]

3.1.8

De miseria condicionis humane by Pope Innocent iii (c.1160–​1216) [no 12]

These are meditations on the life of Christ. This was seen as the work of Bonaventura, who Storm mistakenly believed was a Dominican and not a Franciscan. This was corrected by Kolsrud. Johansson had this as the Lignum vitæ by St. Bonaventure.30

A theological text on the wretchedness of the human condition. This was noted as written by Lotharius by Kolsrud and possibly the manuscript Uppsala, Universitetsbibliotek uub C 233. Johansson has this as the De miseria condicionis humane or De contemptu mundi by Lotharius of Segni (Pope Innocent iii). The uub C 233 manuscript is possibly from the Orkney Islands and from there ended up in the collection of Árni Sigurðsson.31

4 Liturgy 4.1 4.1.1

Liturgical Texts De officiis ecclesie secundum usum Romanum (anonymous) [no 20]

A book on the divine office according to Roman use. This was unidentified by Storm, Kolsrud and Johansson. Ommundsen identified this as a book on the divine office according to Roman use.32

5 History 5.1 5.1.1

Latin Historical Texts Historia regum Brittaniae by Geoffrey of Monmouth (c.1095–​1155) [no 19]

A history of the kings of Britain, including Brutus of Troy. Storm pointed out that this was a work by Geoffrey of Monmouth and was confirmed by Kolsrud. Johansson also identified the text as Geoffrey of Monmouth’s Historia regum Brittaniae.33 30 31 32 33

“Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 66; “Queen Eufemia,” 142. Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 66; “Queen Eufemia,” 142, Mittelalterliche Handschriften, 122–​125. “Traces of Latin Education,” 256. “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 67; “Queen Eufemia,” 143.

Appendix 3

5.1.2

313

De exidio Troie Dares Phrygius (legendary) [no 28]

An early medieval history of the Trojan War ascribed to a Trojan priest. Storm had this as a poem on the siege of Troy, probably the medieval work of Dares Phrygius. This was also the opinion of Kolsrud and Johansson noted it was Dares Phrygius’ De excidio Troiae.34

5.2

Old Norse Historical Texts

5.2.1

Trójumanna saga (anonymous) [no 31]

5.2.2

Bretasǫgur (anonymous) [no 32]

5.2.3

Þiðreks saga af Bern (anonymous) [no 33]

5.2.4

Ǫrvar-​Odds saga (anonymous) [no 34]

5.2.5

Sopdyngium oc þar a margar sagur (anonymous) [no 36]

An Old Norse translation of Dares Phrygius. Storm saw Truíía saga as being the saga of the Trojan War. This was identified as Trójumanna saga by Kolsrud, Johansson and Gunnar Harðarson.35

An Old Norse translation of Geoffrey of Monmouth. Storm pointed out that this Brutus was the saga of Brutus of Troy and the story of the Trojan’s migration to Britain, translated from Latin. This was identified as Bretasǫgur by Kolsrud, Johansson and Gunnar Harðarson.36

An Old Norse version of the legendary life of Theodoric the Great. Storm pointed out that Saga þiðræk a bærn was Thidrik of Bern’s saga translated from German. This was noted as Þiðreks saga af Bern by Kolsrud who noted the oldest manuscript version as being Royal Library, Stockholm, Perg. fol. nr. 4 from the 13th century. This text was also identified by Johansson.37

A legendary saga of the hero Örvar-​Oddr. Storm noted that Orvar oddz saga appeared in Icelandic literature as Orvarodds-​Saga. This was identified as Ǫrvar-​Odds saga by Kolsrud and Johansson.38

A collection of sagas. Storm noted that after the last book in the list there occurs the following words; sopdyngium oc þar a margar sagur, he said that this means that these 34 35 36 37 38

“Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 68; “Queen Eufemia,” 143. “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 69; “Queen Eufemia,” 144; “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 44. “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 69; “Queen Eufemia,” 144; “Old Norse Intellectual Culture,” 44. “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 69; “Queen Eufemia,” 144. “Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 70; “Queen Eufemia,” 144.

314 

The Booklist of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson

books lay together without name with the other Old Norse books of historical content. This was translated as a collection of sagas by Kolsrud and a litter containing many sagas by Johansson.39

Bibliography Bagge, Sverre. From Viking Stronghold to Christian Kingdom: State Formation in Norway, c.900–​1350. Copenhagen: Museum Tusculanum Press, 2010. Berulfsen, Bjarne. Kulturtradisjon fra en storhetstid: En kulturhistorisk studie pågrunnlag av den private brevlitteratur i første halvdel av det 14. hundreår. Oslo: Gyldendal, 1948. Camargo, Martin. “The Varieties of Prose Dictamen as Defined by the Dictatores.” In Essays on Medieval Rhetoric, iv 61–​ 73. Variorum collected studies series. London: Routledge, 2016. Ciccolella, Federica. Donati Graeci: Learning Greek in the Renaissance. Leiden: Brill, 2008. Der Computus Gerlandi. Edited by Alfred Lohr. Stuttgart: Franz Steiner Verlag, 2013. Diplomatarium Norvegicum: Oldbreve til kundskab om Norges indre og ydre forhold, sprog, slægter, sæder, lovgivning og rettergang i middelalderen. Edited by Christian C. A. Lange, Carl R. Unger, H. J. Huitfeldt-​Kaas, Gustav Storm, Ferdinand Linthoe Næshagen, and Tor Ulset. 23 vols. Christiania/​Oslo: Kommisjonen for Diplomatarium Norvegicum, Norsk historisk kjeldeskrift-​institutt, Riksarkivet, 1847‒2011. Dunn, Geoffrey D. “The Emergence of Papal Decretals: The Evidence of Zosimus of Rome.” In Shifting Genres in Late Antiquity, edited by Geoffrey Greatrex, Hugh Elton and Lucas McMahon, 81–​92. London: Routledge, 2016. Ebbesen, Steen, and Jan Pinborg. “Gennadios and Western Scholasticism: Radulphus Brito’s Ars Vetus in Greek translation.” Classica et Mediaevalia 33 (1981): 263–​319. Ebbesen, Sten. “The Way Fallacies were Treated in Scholastic Logic.” Cahiers de l’Institut du Moyen-​Âge Grec Et Latin 55 (2001): 107–​34. Ebbesen, Sten. “Martinus de Dacia.” In Medieval Nordic Literature in Latin: A Website of Authors and Anonymous Works c. 1100–​1530, edited by Stephan Borgehammar, Karsten Friis-​Jensen, Lars Boje Mortensen & Åslaug Ommundsen. Wikihost, 2012. https://​wikihost.uib.no/​medieval/​index.php/​Martinus_​de_​Dacia. Gunnar Harðarson. “Old Norse Intellectual Culture: Appropriation and Innovation.” In Intellectual Culture in Medieval Scandinavia c.1100–​1350 edited by Stefka Georgieva Eriksen, 35–​76. Turnhout: Brepols, 2016.

39

“Biskop Arnes Bibliothek,” 185–​92; Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde, 70; “Queen Eufemia,” 144.

Appendix 3

315

Holm-​Olsen, Ludvig. Med fjærpenn og pergament: vår skriftkultur i middelalderen. Oslo: Cappelen, 1990. Johansson, Karl G. “Queen Eufemia, the Norwegian Élite and the Background of the Eufemiavisor.” In The Eufemiavisor and Courtly Culture: Time, Texts and Cultural Transfer, edited by Olle Ferm Ingela Hedström, Sofia Lodén, Jonatan Pettersson, and Mia Åkestam, 136–​61. Stockholm: kvhaa, 2015. Johnsen, Arne Odd. „Hvor studerte biskopbrødrene Arne og Audfinn?“ Historisk tidsskrift 36 (1953): 89–​98. Karlsen, Espen. “Latin Manuscripts of Medieval Norway: Survivals and Losses.” In Latin Manuscripts of Medieval Norway: Studies in Memory of Lilli Gjerløw, edited by Espen Karlsen, 27–​36. Oslo: Novus, 2013. Kolsrud, Oluf, and George Reiss. Tvo Norrøne Latinske Kvæde med Melodiar: Utgjevne fraa Codex Upsalensis C 233. Kristiania: Jacob Dybwad, 1913. L. Bursill-​ Hall, Geoffrey. “Medieval Donatus Commentaries.” Historiographia Linguistica, Vol. 8, No. 1 (1981): 69–​97. Martini de Dacia Opera, edited by H. Roos. Copenhagen: Det Danske Sprog-​og Litteraturselskab, 1961. Minnis, Alastair. “Tobit’s Dog and the Dangers of Literalism: William Woodford O.F.M. as Critic of Wycliffite Exegesis.” In Defenders and Critics of Franciscan Life: Essays in Honor of John V. Fleming edited by Michael Cusato and G. Geltner. Leiden: Brill, 2009. Mittelalterliche Handschriften der Universitätsbibliothek Uppsala: Katalog über die C-​Sammlung: Bd. 6. C 551–​935. Edited by Margarete Andersson-​Schmitt, Hakan Hallberg and Monica Hedlund. Acta Bibliothecae R. Universitatis Upsaliensis; 26, 6. Stockholm: Almqvist u. Wiksell International, 1993. Nelson, Axel. “Then Norska Laghboken i Stockholms Franciskanerkloster.” Nordisk Tidskrift för Bok-​och Biblioteksväsen 35 (1948): 1–​16. Nothaft, C. Philipp E. “John of Pulchro Rivo and John of Saxony: A Mise au Point.” Journal for the History of Astronomy 45 (2014): 227–​42. Ommundsen, Åslaug. “Traces of Latin Education in the Old Norse World.” In Intellectual Culture in Medieval Scandinavia c.1100–​1350 edited by Stefka Georgieva Eriksen, 243–​ 62. Turnhout: Brepols, 2016. Peter of Spain. Summaries of Logic. Text, Translation, Introduction, and Notes. Edited by Brian P. Copenhaver, Calvin G. Normore, and Terence Parsons. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014. Pinborg, Jan. Die Entwicklung der Sprachtheorie im Mittelalter. Beiträge zur Geschichte der Philosophie und Theologie des Mittelalters, Texte und Untersuchungen 42.2. Copenhagen: Verlag Arne Frost-​Hansen, 1967. Rosemann, Philipp W. The Story of a Great Medieval Book: Peter Lombard’s “Sentences”. Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2007.

316 

The Booklist of Bishop Árni Sigurðsson

Rouse, R.H. & M.A. Rouse. Preachers, Florilegia and Sermons: studies on the Manipulus Florum of Thomas of Ireland. pims Texts and Studies 47. Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1979. Steer, Georg. Hugo Ripelin von Straßburg. Zur Rezeptions-​und Wirkungsgeschichte des ‘Compendium theologicae veritatis’ im deutschen Spätmittelalter. Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1981. Stefán Karlsson. “Islandsk bogeksport til Norge i middelalderen.” Maal og Minne (1979): 1–​17. Storm, Gustav. “Den Bergenske Biskop Arnes Bibliothek.” Historisk Tidsskrift 2 (1880): 185–​92. Tveitane, Mathias. “Bøker og litteratur i Bergen i middelalder og reformasjonstid.” Nordisk tidskrift för bok-​och biblioteksväsen, 68 (1981): 99–​113. Uguccione da Pisa. Derivationes. Edited by Enzo Cecchini, Guido Arbizzoni, Settimio Lanciotti, Giorgio Nonni, Maria Grazia Sassi, and Alba Tontini. Edizione Nazionale dei Testi Mediolatini 11. 2 vols. Florence: SISMEL – Edizioni del Galluzzo, 2004. Witt, Ronald G. The Two Latin Cultures and the Foundation of Renaissance Humanism in Medieval Italy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012.

appendix 4

Contents of am 671 4° Stefan Drechsler table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) Production Gathering Number Textual content unit

i

Text length

Scribe

Date

1r-​4v10

Scribe 1

1320-​40a

of folios

1 (8)

1–​8

Guiliemus Paraldus: Summa de virtutibus et vitiis, 3.2.5 Anonymous: Pharetra, 3.49-​50 Guiliemus Paraldus: Summa de virtutibus et vitiis, 3.2.9 & 4.2.11 Anonymous: Pharetra, 1.5, 2.6, 4.41, 2.28, 3.1 & 3.4 Gratian: Decretum, pars secunda, C.3 q.7 c.5 Gratian: Decretum, pars secunda, C.9 q.2 c.1 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 3.49.4, Latern iv c.19 Raymund of Peñafort: Summa de casibus, 3.34.36 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.3.31 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 1.14.3 Book of Proverbs 12, 1 (Proverbs of Salomon) Pharetra 2.44 Gratian: Decretum, pars secunda, C.6 q.1 c.8, C.11 q.3 c.11 Glossa ordinaria, C.11 q.3 c.11, C.12 q.2 c.22, Dig. 50.1 Gratian: Decretum, pars secunda, C.13 q.2 c.11, C.13 q.2 d.p.c. 11, C.13 q.2 c.12, C.13 q.2, c.14

4v11-​30 5r-​6r4 6r5-​6v32 Margin

Unknown

7r1

Scribe 1

7r1-​23 7r24-​33 Margin

Unknown

7v1-​9

Scribe 2

Margin 7v9-​8r2

© Koninklijke Brill NV, Leiden, 2021 | DOI:10.1163/9789004465510_017

318 

Contents of am 671 4°

table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) (cont.) Production Gathering Number Textual content unit

ii iii

Text length

Scribe

Date

of folios

2 (8) 3 (7)

9–​16 17–​23

Gratian: Decretum, pars secunda, De pen. D.1 c.63 Gratian: Decretum, pars secunda, C.12 q.2 c.74 Gratian: Decretum, pars secunda, C.13 q.2 c.22, C.13 q.2 c.24 (excerpt), C.13 q.2 c.25, C.23 q.3 c.9 Gratian: Decretum, pars tertia, De cons. D.2 c.71 Gratian: Decretum, De pen. D.1 c.63 Gratian: Decretum, pars prima, D. 43 d.a.c.1 Pharetra 1.12, 2.4 & 2.5 (excerpt) Gratian: Decretum, pars tertia, De cons. D.2 c.24, De cons. D.2 c.25, pars prima, D.32 c.16 “ýsidorus. quanto magis quisquis proponitur tanto plus pondere labore gravatur” Pharetra 1.11 (excerpt) Augustine: Sermo 30. Ordo iudiciarius [Bergensis]b Statute of Archbishop Eilífr from 1320d Statue of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (ref. to the third statute of Archbishop Eilífr) from 1323–​48f Statute of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (Bannsakabréf) from 1326g Statute of Bishop Jón Halldórsson (on church days of Corpus Christi and St Magnús) from 1326h

Margin Margin 8r1-​23

8r23-​8v10

Scribe 1

Margin

Unknown Unknown

Margin 8v11-​30

Unknown Scribe 1

Margin

Unknown

19-​16 17r1-​29

Unknown Unknown Scribe 4 1300-​50c Scribe 5 1326e

17r29-​20v18

20v6-​23v19 23v20-​26

319

Appendix 4

table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) (cont.) Production Gathering Number Textual content unit

i

Text length

Scribe

Date

Ræða á allra heilagra ok allra sálna messui

24r1-​22

Scribe 1 (24r1-​ 2, 24v, 25v1-​15)

1320-​40j

Úr 7. bréfi Bernardi ábóta af Clairvaux

25r23-​26r2

Giulielmus Durantis: Rationale divinorum officiorum, introduction 9-​12 Giulielmus Durantis: Rationale divinorum officiorum, 4.1.16-​17 Excerpt from an unidentified Latin commentry on Church lawl Bernard of Parma: Casus longi (notabilia) ad x 2.1.1, x. 2.1.2, x. 2.1.4, x. 2.1.8, x 2.1.10, x 2.1.13, x 2.1.16 Raymund of Peñafort: Summa de casibus, 3.29.3-​6

26r3-​v5

Scribe 6 (24r2-​32, 25r, 25v15-​ 26r2) Unknown 1300-​1400k

26v6-​16

Unknown

27r1-​23

Unknown

27v1-​11

Unknown

27v12-​32

Unknown

Pharetra 1.2, 1.7, 2.16-​19, 2.30, 3.48, sp. 7, 18, 82-​83, 85-​86, 102, 168 Anonymous: Regimen sanitatis salernitatem (eXcerpt) Statute of Bishop Magnús Gissurarson from 1224m Statute of Bishop Árni Þorláksson from 1269n Statute of Bishop Árni Þorláksson from 1275o Statute of Bishop Árni Þorláksson from 1292p

28r-​29v

Unknown Unknown

30r1-​8

Unknown

30r9-​v6

Unknown

of folios

4 (8)

24-​31

30v7-​31r8 31r8-​21 31r21-​35

320 

Contents of am 671 4°

table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) (cont.) Production Gathering Number Textual content unit

iv

i

Text length

Scribe

of folios

5 (3)

6 (5)

32-​34

35-​39

Statute of Árni Þorláksson from 1280q

31v1-​19

Giulielmus Durantis: Rationale divinorum officiorum, 4.33.1-​2 Gratian: Decretum, pars prima, D.3 c.1 (with Distictione D. iii), D.3 c.2, D.3 d.p.c. 2, D.3 c.3, D.3 d.p.c. 3 “punire quod sunt punienda. unde versus Quatuor eX uerbis uirtutes collige legis. Permittit punit imperat atque uetat.” Gratian: Decretum, pars prima, D.4 d.a.c. 1, D.4 d.p.c. 1, D.4 c.2, D.4 d.p.c. 2, D.4 d.p.c. 3, D.5 d.a.c. 1 § 1, D.8 d.a.c. 1 Gratian: Decretum, pars prima, D.8 c.1 Gratian: Decretum, pars prima, D.8 d.p.c. 1, D.8 c. 2, D.8 c. 3, D.8 c. 4, D.8 c. 5, D.8 c. 6, D.8 c. 7, D.8 c.9, D.8 d.p.c. 9, D.9 d.a.c. 1, D.9. c.1 § 1, D.9 c.3, D.9 c.5, D.9 c.7, D.9 c.10, D.9 c.11, D.9 d.p.c. 11, D.10 d.a.c. 1, D.10 c.1 “lex imparatorum ecclesiastica iura dissolvere non potest.” Ræða um hina heilǫgu kvǫldmáltíðr Forms of confessions Statute of Bishop Árni Þorláksson from 1269t Geoffrey of Trano: Summa super titulis decretalium, x 3.2.7, x 3.2.10, x 5.34.14, C.2 q.1 c.16, x 1.17.10, x 4.18, x 4.18. 3 Oath forms used for clerk violence issuesu

31v20-​32

Unknown

32ra1-​27

Scribe 7

32ra27-​30

32ra30-​rb22

32rb13-​va4 32va4-​ 33rb39

Scribe 8

Margin 33v-​34r5 34r6-​15 34v1-​5

Unknown Unknown Unknown

34v6-​16

Unknown

35r

Unknown

Date

321

Appendix 4

table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) (cont.) Production Gathering Number Textual content unit

v

Text length

Scribe

Date

Declaration of finesv Clarus of Florence: Nota sex casus quos debet sacerdos mittere ad episcopumw

35v 36r-​39v

Unknown Scribe 1 1320-​40x

Innocent iv: Apparatus, x 1.11.15, x 5.39.29, x 1.11.2, x 1.2.1, c 22.q.5, x 5.39.29, x 4.14, x 1.11.16, x d.70.c.2, x 5.27.7, x 5.30.1, x 5.30.3, d 50.c.59, d 54, x 1.18.2, x 1.19.1, d 50.c.59, x 1.16.3, c 1.q.1.c.97, x 1.11, x 1.15.1, c 7.q.1.c.16, c 7.q.1.c.15, x 3.41.9, x 3.35.1, x 1.31.18, x 1.31.16, x 1.31.18, x 5.33, x 3.36.6, x 3.45.1, x 2.20.52, x 3.41.6, x 3.46.1, x 5.23.1, x 1.15.1, x 1.21.5 “Celebrans in ecclesia sanguinis effusione uiolata non debit irregularitatem incurre. quia tunc dicuntur proprie in illa ecclesia organa suspensa. non ecclesia interdicta.” Innocent iv: Apparatus, x 1.9.10 “xi. q. v. Quilibet in causa ecclesie sue potest esse iudeX ut diXi. ii. q. vii Si quis presul consuetudo. ar. quod si etiam papa cum aliquo causam habet. non ipse potest esse iudeX et rem occupare. sed arbitros eligere. ar. ii. q. vii. nos si. alioquin cadet are.” Bernard of Parma: Casus longi (notabilia), x 5.38.11 Innocent iv: Apparatus, x 1.33.2 Gratian: Decretum, pars prima, D.45 c.4, C. 23 q. 4 c.27-​28 Glossa ordinaria, D. 89 c.7

40r1-​42r30

Scribe 9

of folios

7 (8)

40-​47

42r31-​32

42r30-​36 42r36-​38

42v1-​5 42v6-​10 42v11-​35 42v36-​40

1300-​50y

322 

Contents of am 671 4°

table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) (cont.) Production Gathering Number Textual content unit

Text length

of folios

Gregory ix: Liber extra, x.1.4.1, x.1.4.3, 43r1-​19 x.1.4.3, x.1.4.11 Glossa ordinaria, x 1.4.11, x 3.7.3, x 1.4.5 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x.1.17.3 Glossa ordinaria, x 1.17.3, x 1.7.9, x 1.17.17-​18, x 1.17.8, x 1.17.18 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x.1.17.7 Glossa ordinaria, x 1.17.7, C.8 q.1 c.7 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 1.17.8 Glossa ordinaria, x 1.17.8 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 1.17.8, x 1.17.15, x 1.35.1, x 1.35.2, x 1.35.3, x 1.35.5 Glossa ordinaria, x 1.35.5 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 1.35.7 Glossa ordinaria, x 1.35.7, C.12 q.2 c.13 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 1.35.8 Glossa ordinaria, x 1.35.8, C.22 q.4 c.6 (or c.16), C.22 q.4 c.13 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 1.43.1, x 1.43.6, x 1.43.8 Glossa ordinaria, x 1.43.8 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 1.43.14 “res priuate dicuntur res proprie singulorum. quails quilibet posidet tamquam proprias. ad differentiam rerum communium et publicarum. res communes dicuntur res ecclesiarum vel clericorum. quarum debitum ad nullum clericum pertinet; Res autem

Margin 43r19-​22 Margin 43r22-​25 Margin 43r26-​33 43r33-​37 43r37-​v12

43v12-​13 43v14-​17 Margin 43v18-​21 43v21-​31 43v32-​38 43v38-​39 43v39 Margin

Scribe

Date

323

Appendix 4

table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) (cont.) Production Gathering Number Textual content unit

Text length

of folios

publice sunt res ciuitatem. vel uoluit ista constitutio utagens super rebus ecclesiasticis per exceptionem spolia tionis rei priuate non repellitur ab agendo. vel econtrario. scilicet ut agenti super rebus priuatis rerum ecclesiarum spoliatio non apponatur. et intelligo hec. §. quando inter ecclesiasasti cas personas causa uertitur. nec sit c[ontraria]. supra. de ordine cognitionom. Cum dilectus.” Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 2.1.2, x 2.1.3, x 2.1.7, x 2.1.8, x 2.1.14, x 2.2.2, x 2.2.4 Glossa ordinaria, x 2.2.4 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 2.2.8, x 2.13.5, x 2.13.18, x 2.27.1, x 2.27.2, x 2.27.4, x 2.27.6, x 2.27.9, x 2.27.19, x 2.27.25, x 2.27.26, x 3.5.1, x 3.5.8, x 3.5.13, x 3.5.24, x 3.7.3, x 3.7.4, x 3.13.1, x 3.13.2, x 3.13.10, x 3.13.12, x 3.36.3, x 3.36.4, x 3.36.5, x 3.38.1, x 3.38.2, x 3.38.4, x 3.38.6, x 3.38.5, x 3.38.15 Glossa ordinaria, x 3.38.15 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 3.38.16, x 3.38.17, x 3.38.21, x 3.38.22, x 3.38.26, x 3.38.27, x 3.39.1 Glossa ordinaria, x 3.39.1, C.23 q.8 c.24 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 3.39.2, x 3.39.5, x 3.39.6, x 3.39.7, x 3.39.10 Glossa ordinaria, x 3.39.1, C.23 q.8 c.24

44r1-​24

Margin 44r24-​45r39

45r39 45v1-​24

45v24-​29 45v29-​46r10 46r10

Scribe

Date

324 

Contents of am 671 4°

table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) (cont.) Production Gathering Number Textual content unit

Text length

of folios

8 (8)

48-​55

Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 3.39.25, x 3.40.1, x 3.40.2, x 3.40.3, x 3.40.4, x 3.40.6, x 3.40.7, x 3.40.8

46r11-​33

Glossa ordinaria, x 3.40.8, De cons. D.1 c.9, Nov. 3.1, C.16 q.6 c.2 (3), x 2.25.6, Nov. 131 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 3.40.9 Glossa ordinaria, x 3.40.9 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 3.40.10, x 3.48.1 Glossa ordinaria, x 3.48.1, C.10 q.3 c.3 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 3.48.4, x 3.49.1, x 3.49.5, x 3.49.6, x 3.49.7, x 3.49.8, x 3.49.9, x 3.49.10, x 5.3.1, x 5.3.2 Glossa ordinaria, x 5.3.2 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.3.4, x 5.3.6, x 5.3.7, x 5.3.10, x 5.3.10 Glossa ordinaria, x 5.3.10 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.3.13, x 5.3.14, x 5.3.16, x 3.41.3 Innocent iv: Apparatus, x 3.41.3 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 3.41.4, x 3.41.5, x 3.41.9, x 3.41.10, x 3.41.13, x 3.41.14, x 3.42.1, x 3.42.2, x 5.17.1, x 5.17.5, x 5.17.7, x 5.27.1, x 5.27.6, x 5. 27.9, x 5.27.10, x 5.31.1, x 5.31.5, x 5.31.7, x 5.34.6, x 5.34.11, x 5.34.13, x 5.36.1, x 5.36.2, x 5.36.3, x 5.36.4, x 5.36.5, x 5.36.6, x 5.36.9, x 5.37.1, x 5.37.2, x 5.37.6, x 5.37.12, x 5.38.1, x 5.38.2, x 5.38.4, x 5.38.6, x 5.38.10, x 5.38.11, x 5.38.15, x 5.38.16, x 5.39.1

46r33-​41

46v1-​4 46v4-​6 46v7-​11 46v11-​13 46v14-4​ 7r20

Margin 47r21-​27 47r27-​29 47r29-​v7 Margin 47v7-​49r40

Scribe

Date

325

Appendix 4

table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) (cont.) Production Gathering Number Textual content unit

Text length

of folios

Glossa ordinaria, x 5.39.1, x 5.39.58, Margin De Cons. D.4 c.118, C.17 q.4 c.29, x (49r-​v, 5.39.10, x 5.39.1 (paraphrased), x 49v-​50r) 5.39.36, x 5.39.6, x 5.39.13, x 5.39.2, x 5. 39.32, x. 5.39.3, x 5.39.26, x 5.39.58, x 5.39.29, x 5.39.60, x 5.39.17 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.39.2 Glossa ordinaria, x 5.39.2, x 5.39.32, x 5.39.50, x 5.39.33 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.39.3 Glossa ordinaria, x 5.39.2, x 5.39.3, x 5.39.32, x 5.39.24, x 5.39.35, x 5.39.10, x 5.39.3 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.39.4 Glossa ordinaria, x 5.39.4 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.39.5, x 5.39.6, x 5.39.7, x 5.39.9, x 5.39.10, x 5.39.11, x. 5.39.14, x 5.39.17 Glossa ordinaria, x 5.39.17 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.39.18, x 5.39.19, x 5.39.23, x 5.39.24, x 5.39.26, x 5.39.28 Glossa ordinaria, x 5.39.28, x 5.17.5, C.12. q.2 c.34, C.16 q.6 c.2 (3), x 5.17.5 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.39.29, x 5.39.30, x 5.39.32, x 5.39.35, x 5.39.36, x 5.39.38, x 5.39.39, x 5.39.43, x 5.39.45, x 5.39.49 Innocent iv: Apparatus, x 5.39.49, x 5.39.53 Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.39.51 Glossa ordinaria, x 5.39.51, x 5.39.15

49v1-​7 Margin 49v8-​16 Margin

49v16-​21 Margin 49v21-​50r12

Margin 50r13-​v16

Margin 50v16-​51v31

51v32-​39 51v39-​52r3 Margin (51v)

Scribe

Date

326 

Contents of am 671 4°

table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) (cont.) Production Gathering Number Textual content unit

Text length

Scribe

Date

of folios

Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.39.54 52r4-​14 Glossa ordinaria, x 5.39.54, C.11 q.3 Margin c.103, D.90 c.2, D.45 c.8, x 3.41.9, x 5.39.1, x 1.33.17, C.23 q.4 c.35, D.47 c.8

9 (8)

56-​63

Gregory ix: Liber extra, x 5.39.57, x 5.39.58, x 5.39.60, x 5.41.1, x 5.41.2, x 5.41.3, x 5.41.4, x 5.41.5, x 5.41.7, x 5.41.8, x 5.41.9, x 5.41.10 Pseudo-​Hieronymus: Libellus fidei (excerpt) Vincent of Beauvais: Speculum historiale, book 1, 42–​54z Vincent of Beauvais: Speculum historiale, book 8, 68–​89aa Goffredus of Trano: Summa super titulis decretalium, x 1.11 Wedding speechbb “þessa bok hefer snorri aandresson bvndit ok skarttada ravdu skini”

52r15-​v5

52v4-​5

Scribe 10

52r-​55r 56r-​59v20 59v21-​62v 63r1-​5 Margin (63r)

Unknown Snorri 1340cc Andrésson

a  Stefán Karlsson, introduction to Guðmundar sögur biskups, 1, xl, xli. b  Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 250–​75. c  Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 16. d  Diplomatarium Islandicum (hereinafter di) ii, 498–​500. e  d i ii, 594–​95. f  d i ii, 512–​33. g  d i ii, 582–​94. h  d i ii, 594–​95. i  Leifar fornra kristinna frœða íslenzkra: Codex Arna-​Magnæanus 677 4to auk annara enna elztu brota af ízlenzkum guðfrœðisritum, ed. by Þorvaldur Bjarnarson (Copenhagen: H. Hagerup bóksala, 1878), 172–​75. j  Stefán Karlsson, introduction to Guðmundar sögur biskups, 1, xl, xli. k  Kristian Kålund, Katalog over den Arnamagnæanske håndskriftsamling, ii, 87. l  Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 36. m  d i i, 435–​37. n  d i ii, 23–​27. o  d i ii, 128–​29.

Appendix 4

327

table A.1 Content and dating of am 671 4° (based on Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen”) (cont.) p  d i ii, 279–​80. q  d i ii, 192–​94. r  Leifar fornra kristinna frœða íslenzkra, ed. by Þorvaldur Bjarnarson, 186–​88. s  d i ii, 49. t  d i ii, 25–​26. u  d i ii, 43–​48. v  d i ii, 45–​46. w  Joel Anderson, “Disseminating and Dispensing Canon Law in Medieval Iceland,” Arkiv för nordisk filologi 128 (2013), 79–​95. x  Stefán Karlsson, introduction to Guðmundar sögur biskups, 1, xl, xli. y  Kristoffer Vadum, “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen,” 15. z  Ole Widding, and Hans Bekker-​Nielsen, “Et brev fra Bernhard af Clairvaux i uddrag i am 671, 4to,” Opuscula 2, 1 (1961), 59–​62. aa  Ole Widding, and Hans Bekker-​Nielsen, “Et brev fra Bernhard af Clairvaux,” 59–​62. bb  d i ii, 329. See also Jón Helgason, “Islandske bryllupstaler fra senmiddelalderen,” Opuscula 3 (1960), 151–​73, here 153. cc  Stefán Karlsson, introduction to Guðmundar sögur biskups, 1, xl, xli.

AM 158 a 4to (Hlíðarendabók, 1400; n)

AM 168 a 4to (1360; f)

AM 42 a 8vo (1400; r)

Thott 1280 fol. (1400; l)

AM 48 8vo (1375-1400; p)

AM 344 fol. (1375-1350; p)

AM 347 fol. (Belgsdalsbók, 1350-1370; d2)

AM 126 4to (1400; II.a)

tH irð

r)

AM 354 fol. (Skálholtsbók yngri, 1400; y)

AM 139 4to (1400; æ)

AM 156 4to (1350-1375; y)

sið i

II-Redaction (interpolated)

AM 350 fol. (Skarðsbók, 1363; æ)

ou

328 

diagram A.1 Textual relations of manuscripts and fragments containing Jónsbók up to 1400, based on Ólafur Halldórsson, ed., Jónsbók (Copenhagen, repr. 1970), xli–xlv, Ole Widding, “Jónsbóks to ikke-interpolerte håndskrifter,” Scripta Islandica 18 (1967), 17–19, Már Jónsson, “Textatengsl nokkurra elstu handrita Jónsbókar,” in Líndæla: Sigurður Líndal sjötugur (Reykjavík, 2001), 373–79, and Stefán Karlsson and Ólafur Halldórsson, “Rettelser og ajourføring,” in Jónsbók, ed. Ólafur Halldórsson, 23–28. The dating of the displayed manuscripts relates to the initial productions only. For their dating, see the individual entries in the Dictionary of Old Norse Prose, https://onp.ku.dk/onp/onp.php.

JS frg 20 (1400; h2)

NKS 1930 a 4to (1360; g)

3)

AM 133 4to (1380-1390; m)

JS frg 12 (1300-1400; c2)

on 34

AM 351 fol. (Skálholtsbók eldri, 1360/1400-1450)

AM 315 l fol. (1350-1400)

AM 135 fol. (Arnarbælisbók, 1350-1400; k)

GKS 3268 4to (1350; a)

GKS 3270 4to (1350; e)

(w ith

AM 343 fol. (Svalbarðsbók, 1330-1340; y)

based

Holm perg 36 III 4to (1350; u2)

nalö g

man

Far

AM 346 fol. (Staðarfellsbók, 1340-1360; o)

konungs Magnúss konungs lög; Bréf ss Farmanna f Magnú lög; Bré na an Farm lög nna ma Far

partly

AM 127 4to (1350; u)

JS frg 1 (1320-1330; i4) AM 169 4to (1300-1350; b)

(350

GKS 3269 a 4to (1350; h)

I-Redaction (uninterpolated)

GKS 3271 4to (1330; i2)

AM 134 4to (1281-1294; i1)

GKS 3269 b 4to (1330-1340; d)

AM 154 4to (1320-1330; c)

newgenrtpdf

Contents of am 671 4°

Appendix 4

329

Bibliography

Primary Sources

Diplomatarium Islandicum: Íslenzkt fornbréfasafn, sem hefir inni aðhalda bréf og gjörninga, dóma og máldaga, og aðrar skrár er snerta Ísland eða íslenzka menn. Edited by Jón Sigurðsson, Jón Þorkelsson, Páll Eggert Ólason, and Björn Þorsteinsson. 16 vols. Copenhagen and Reykjavík: Hið íslenzka bókmenntafélag, 1857−1972. Leifar fornra kristinna frœða íslenzkra: Codex Arna-​Magnæanus 677 4to auk annara enna elztu brota af íslenzkum guðfrœðisritum. Edited by Þorvaldur Bjarnarson. Copenhagen: H. Hagerup, 1878.



Secondary Sources

Anderson, Joel. “Disseminating and Dispensing Canon Law in Medieval Iceland.” Arkiv för nordisk filologi 128 (2013), 79–​95. Jón Helgason. “Islandske bryllupstaler fra senmiddelalderen.” Opuscula 3 (1960), 151–​73. Kålund, Kristian. Katalog over den Arnamagnæanske håndskriftsamling, 2 vols. Copenhagen: Gyldendalske Boghandel, 1889–​1900. Stefán Karlsson. Introduction to Guðmundar sögur biskups, vol. 1: Ævi Guðmundar biskups, Guðmundar saga A, edited by Stefán Karlsson. Editiones Arnamagnæanæ Series B 6. Copenhagen: C. A. Reitzel, 1983. Vadum, Kristoffer. “Bruk av kanonisk litteratur i Nidarosprovinsen ca. 1250–​1340.” PhD thesis, University of Oslo, 2015. Widding, Ole and Hans Bekker-​Nielsen. “Et brev fra Bernhard af Clairvaux i uddrag i am 671, 4to.” Opuscula 2, 1 (1961), 59–​62.

Index Acta Capituli Provincialis 17 Alamanni, Luigi  Bianca di Tolosa 93, 102, 104–​119 Albertus Magnus 12, 18 Alexander of Villediu: Alexander de Villa Dei  Carmen de Algorismo 33 Doctrinale 281n69, 282 Alphonsi, Petrus, see Petrus Alphonsi Andreas, Canon 242n71 Andreas, Friar 17, 20n77 Andreas, Magister 20n77 Andreas Stazos 20n77 annals 225–​28, 230–​32, 238–​43, 246–​ 48, 250–​56 Antoníuss saga 282 Apuleius  Asinus Aureus 67 Arngrímr Brandsson 4, 67n10, 98–​100, 126, 151n2, 153, 155, 158, 160, 168–​70, 174, 204, 227n8, 260–​74, 276, 284–​85 Guðmundar saga góða, see Guðmundar saga biskups Antonio Agustín y Albanell 87n20 Askatín 25 Aslak Bolt 191 Atburðr á Finnmörk 228, 244 Auðfinnr Sigurðsson, Bishop 19, 20n77, 25–​26, 31, 311 Auðunn rauði, Bishop 234, 252–​53, 269 Augustine, Saint 15, 30, 311 Feast of 189n24 De Genesi ad litteram 30 De Genesi contra manichæos 30 De civitate Dei 30 Sermones 129n26, 283 Augustine of Canterbury 85–​87 Augustinians 9, 26, 74, 262, 268, 285. See also Bergen, Helgafell, Möðruvellir, Viðey, Þykkvibær Ágústínus saga 266 Áki, Chancellor 31 Álfr Halldórsson, Magister 31 Árna saga biskups 85–​86, 90n32 Árni, Magister 28

Árni Gjafaldason 33 Árni Helgason, Bishop 242n71, 261, 283n80, 309 Árni Jónsson, Abbot 284n81 Árni Lárentíusson 153, 227n8, 228 Árni Magnússon 164–​65, 204n5, 205, 208–​ 12, 238, 277, 279n64, 280 Árni Sigurðsson, Bishop 18–​19, 20n77, 24–​ 26, 29, 31, 36, 302–​4 Árni Vaði, Archbishop 230 Árni Þorláksson, Bishop 43, 85–​86, 87n20, 128n22, 130, 143, 231, 266, 309. See also Kristinréttr inn nýi, Kristinréttr Árna biskups Bannsakabréf 45–​47, 85, 90, 130, 137, 139, 142–​44, 268n24 Barlaams saga ok Josaphats 282 Bartholomew of Brescia  Glossa ordinaria 129n28, 131n41 Basile, Giambattista  Lo cunto de li cunti 102n57 Bauðvarr Guðmundarson 252 Bárðr Serksson 31 Becket, Thomas, of Canterbury 27 Beda super Lucam 283 Benedictines 3, 9, 29, 67n10, 81–​82, 98, 151, 153–​55, 160, 170, 226–​27, 260, 262–​63, 266, 268–​69, 271–​72, 274, 277, 279. See also “North Icelandic Benedictine School” Bergen 1–​3, 7–​14, 16–​18, 19n68, 21–​22, 24–​27, 29–​36, 44, 46, 51–​52, 74–​75, 99, 114, 126, 131n40, 191, 204, 216, 235n43, 240–​41, 262, 273–​74, 286, 303–​4 Apostles Chapel 9, 24, 29–​31, 36, 216, 235n43 Augustinian abbey of St John 25 Christ Church Cathedral 3, 7–​8, 10, 14, 22, 24–​30, 35 Church of St Mary 9, 28, 33 Dominican friary 9–​16, 21–​22, 34–​35, 74, 262, 273, 286 Fransiscan friary of St Olaf 9, 10–​11, 24, 36

332 Index Bergr Sokkason 67n10, 98–​99, 126n10, 151, 153, 155, 157–​60, 167, 169–​70, 174, 227n8, 269, 272, 278, 280, 281n67 Michaels saga hǫfuðengils 151, 155, 157, 159, 164, 278, 280 Bernold of Constance  Micrologus de ecclesiasticis officiis 183 Bertrand of Metz, Bishop 65 Bjarkeyjarréttr 42, 97 Bjarni Auðunsson 20, 33, 52 Bjarni Loðinsson 20, 25, 33, 52 Bjarni Erlingsson 33, 52 Boccaccio, Giovanni 67 Decamerone 62, 66, 68–​69 Bologna 1–​3, 7, 10, 14, 16–​19, 20–​21, 29, 32–​35, 41, 47–​52, 68–​69, 71–​72, 114, 127, 158, 301n4 Cathedral 68 San Domenico 17 University of 7, 17–​18, 20, 29, 35 Boniface viii, Pope 82–​83, 85, 88, 130 Bonizo of Sutri 88 Borgarþing 42n2, 44 Bótólfr Hákonarson 31 Brandr Jónsson, Bishop 265–​67 Alexanders saga 30, 96, 266 Gyðinga saga 266 Brennu–​Njáls saga 96 Bretasǫgur 313 Breviarium Holense 194n40 Breviarium Nidrosiense 193, 194n40, 199 Bruce, Isabella 25 Brynjólfr Bjarnarson 252–​53 Bury St Edmunds liturgy 183 Bærings saga 95 canon law 1–​3, 15, 18–​19, 25, 32–​33, 35, 44, 47, 50–​52, 85, 87n22, 90, 128–​31, 231, 260, 266, 268 Charles of Anjou 239 Chaucer  Canterbury Tales 66, 68 Chronicle of Hamar 242 Clarus of Florence  Nota sex 129n26 Clári saga 3, 9, 71–​73, 92–​119, 126, 151, 158–​60, 164, 166–​70, 174, 262, 278, 282, 284–​85 Clement v, Pope 24, 29–​30, 293n2 Feast of 253

Codex Upsaliensis 275–​76 Codex Wormianus 155n18, 274–​81, 283–​85 Collectaneum exemplorum ac visionum Clarevallense 83 Comestor, Peter  Historia scholastica 29, 283 Corpus Christi  Feast of 131, 136n61, 190 Crown of Thorns  Feast of 214–​16, 219 Office of 214, 217 D’Andrea, Giovanni  Glossa ordinaria 129–​30n28 Dacia, province 1–​2, 17, 20 De diversis artibus 244 Decreta Lanfranci 183 Decretum Gratiani 87, 308 Dominic, Saint 1, 216 Feast day 216–​17, 219 Mass for 212 Office of 3–​4, 204, 217, 261, 264 Dominican influence 1–​3, 74, 125, 174, 204, 215, 218, 262, 284 Dominican Order 1–​3, 11–​16, 23–​24, 34–​35, 92, 204, 215–​16. See also Bergen Dominicans 1, 10, 12–​17, 21, 33, 34, 41, 51, 75, 216, 262n10, 274 Drauma-​Jóns saga 158–​59 Durandus, Durantis, see William Durand Eberhard of Bethune  Graecismus 282 Edda, see Prose Edda Egill Eyjólfsson, Bishop 248–​51, 253, 260 Egils saga Skalla-​Grímssonar 168 Egils saga einhenda ok Ásmundar berserkjabana 61–​73 Eiðsifaþing 42n2, 44 Eilífr Árnason, Archbishop 10, 35, 45, 83, 131, 141–​43, 234, 243, 254, 239n2 Eilífr of Naustdal 240 Einarr Grímsson 251 Einarr Hafliðason 4, 48, 67, 125, 225–​26, 284n81. See also Laurentius saga biskups, Lögmannsannáll Eiríkr Birgersson, Swedish duke 240 Eiríkr Ívarsson, Archbishop 189

Index Eiríkr Magnússon ii, King of Norway 10–​13, 20, 25, 31, 33, 43, 143 Eiríkr Magnússon xii, King of Sweden 239 Eiríkr Sveinbjarnarson 302n7 Erlingr Viðkunsson 141 Etienne de Bourbon 13 Euphemia, Queen 25 exempla 2–​3, 7, 12, 21, 41, 48–​49, 69, 79–​81, 83, 95, 97–​100, 117, 126, 137, 158, 165, 167, 279 Eyjólfr Brandsson 262, 273 Eyjólfr Pálsson 273 Eysteinn Ásgrímsson 67n10, 262, 267, 271, 273, 284n81, 285 Eysteinn Erlendsson, Archbishop 85n16, 189 Eysteinn Magnússon i, King 8 Finnr Halldórsson 11, 14, 29–​33, 36, 75 Flateyjarannáll 11, 74–​75 Flateyjarbók 74–​75, 155n21, 226 Flores Hugonis de Sancto Victore 283 Flores saga konungs ok sona hans 69, 97 Fourth Grammatical Treatise 280–​84, 285n83 Freygerðr Brestisdóttir 11, 14, 74–​75 Frostaþing 42n2, 44 Gautier de Châtillon  Alexandreis 96 Geirr Þorsteinsson 251 Geoffrey of Monmouth  History of the Kings of Britain 26n108, 312, 313 Prophetia Merlini 155 Geoffry of Vinsauf  Poetria nova 67n10 Gerbert of Aurillac 18 Giles of Rome  Liber de regimine principum 33 Gizurr Ísleifsson 60 Gizurr Teitsson 60 Gísli Jónsson 280 Goffredus of Trano  Summa super titulis decretalium 131n41 Gottskálk Nikulásson, Bishop 279 Gratian  Decretum 87, 128n22, 129n26, 129n28, 131n41, 308

333 Grágás 44–​45, 96–​97, 134n60, 140 Great Saga of Ólafr Tryggvason 74 Gregory i, Pope 310–​11 Gregory vi, Pope 88 Gregory vii, Pope 88 Gregory ix  Liber extra 128n22, 129n26, 129n28, 131n41 Grímr Hólmsteinsson 264, 266 Grímr Ormsson 29 Grímr Þorsteinsson, lǫgmaðr 142n87 Guðmundar drápa 262, 267–​70, 272, 284–​85 Guðmundr góði Arason, Bishop 67, 83–​84, 231, 262, 264, 268–​70 Prestssaga 231 Guðmundar saga biskups 83, 89n31, 95–​96, 98, 99n48, 151n2, 169, 262, 264, 269, 271, 282, 285 Gulaþing 33, 42n2, 44 Gulaþingslǫg 97 Gunnlaugr Leifsson 74, 153, 155 Guzman, Domingo, see Dominic, Saint Gyrðr, Bishop 268n26, 271 Halldóra Erlendsdóttir 164, 280 Hamar 1, 240 Hallvarðr of Hamar, Bishop 141 harp, harp strings 275–​76 Haukr Erlendsson 31–​33, 156n23 Hauksbók 33, 156, 159 Haukr Gunnarsson 141 Hákon, Archbishop 229n18, 240 Hákon Erlingsson, Bishop 19, 22–​23, 25–​26, 29, 35, 138n67, 301 Hákon Hákonarson iv, King 9, 12, 33, 42, 240n64 Hákon Magnússon v, King 8, 10, 12, 20, 22, 25–​27, 30, 31, 32–​33, 45, 283n80 Hákon Úlfsson 236 Heiðarvíga saga 280–​81 Heimskringla 128n20 Hekla 250, 265 Helgafell, abbey 3, 61, 132–​33, 139, 141n82, 153, 244, 256, 261n7, 277, 281, 285 Herder, Johann Gottfried  Abhandlung über den Ursprung der Sprache 61n2 Hirðskrá 134–​36, 139, 142–​43 Hirðsiðir 134, 136–​37, 139–​40, 143

334 Index Hirsau liturgy 183, 189 Honorius iii, Pope 1, 51 Honorius Augustodunensis  Gemma animae 183, 189 Hólar Cathedral 153–​54, 227, 268–​71, 278, 283 Hrólfs saga Gautrekssonar 59n1 Hugh of St Cher 13 Innocent iii, Pope 86–​7, 89–​90, 312 Innocent iv, Pope  Apparatus in quinque libros decretalium 130, 131n41, 132 Isidore of Seville 282 Etymologiae sive Origines 29, 244, 283 Israel Erlandsson, Bishop 35 Ísleifr Gizurarson, Bishop 60 Ívar Auðunsson 210n28 Jacobus de Voragine  Legenda aurea 30, 283 Jakobus of Lund 240 Járnsíða 44–​45, 140 Johannes de Dacia 20 Johannes de Alta Silva 65, 70, 71n22 Dolopathos sive De rege et septem sapientibus 64–​66, 70–​71 Josephus  Antiquitates 30 Bellum Judaicum 30 Jón Einarsson 137n63 Jón Eiríksson, Bishop 273 Jón Gamlason 273 Jón Hákonarson 155n21 Jón Indriðason, Bishop 74–​75, 127n18, 302n7 Jón Koðransson 251–​52 Jón Krabbi Stefánsson 191–​93, 207 Jón Pálsson 229 Jón rauði, Archbishop 43–​46, 86, 130, 143, 216, 241 Jón Sigurðsson, Bishop 74, 83n11, 127n18, 267–​68 Jón Vilhjálmsson Craxton 84, 273 Jón Vídalín, Bishop 277 Jón Þorleifsson 252 Jón Þorláksson 195, 212 Jón Þórðarson 74–​75

Jónsbók 45–​46, 133–​37, 140, 142–​43, 236, 249, 278, 280n66 Jóns saga baptista 128, 255, 264, 266, 278n56 Jóns þáttr biskups Halldórssonar 7, 10–​11, 14, 17, 18n61, 22, 47–​48, 68, 79, 126, 137, 143, 151, 158–​59, 169, 174, 262, 293–​300 Jörundr, Archbishop 232, 235, 254n116 Jörundr Þorsteinsson, Bishop 82, 86–​87, 229n18, 232, 235, 252, 266 Karlamagnúss saga 169, 278n56 Karl Jónsson 153–​54 Ketill Þorsteinsson, Bishop 140n76 Ketill Þorláksson 142 Kristín Hákonardóttir, Princess 12 Kristindómsbálkr 45, 134–​36, 140, 142–​43 Kristinréttr Árna biskups; Kristinréttr inn nýi 43–​46, 127, 130, 134–​37, 139–​ 40, 142–​43 König Drosselbart 100–​103, 105 Konrad von Würzburg  Die halbe Birne 93, 101, 103, 105, 107–​109, 112, 115–​19 Kunstprosa 64 Landslǫg 42, 133–​34, 137n62, 139, 143 Lanercost Chronicle 11 Laufás Edda 280 Laurentius Kálfsson, Bishop 4, 8, 48, 67n10, 82–​83, 125, 226, 228–​39, 243, 246, 253, 255, 260, 271–​72 Laurentius saga biskups 8, 18n61, 31, 48–​49, 67n10, 125–​27, 227–​32, 235n45, 236, 239–​43, 246–​47, 249–​50, 252, 254–​56, 260, 263–​64, 268, 284n81 Lárentíus Kálfsson, see Laurentius Kálfsson, Bishop, Lárentíus saga, see Laurentius saga biskups legendary sagas 3, 59n1, 61–​62, 73, 313 Leo i, Pope 282 Sermones 283 Libellus de Magno Erici Regis 239 Liber ordinarius 183, 189 Lilja 67n10, 267, 285n83 Literary production 3–​4, 7, 26, 60, 125, 127–​ 28, 132–​33, 139, 151–​58, 160, 164–​65, 174, 186, 194–​96, 225–​28, 231, 241–​42, 247, 283n75

Index liturgy 2–​3, 16, 144, 183–​99, 203–​19, 312 Loðinn Leppr 33 Lögmannsannáll 18n61, 48–​49, 227, 238–​41, 243 Lombard, Peter  Sentences 16, 19, 311 Lundarbók 139 Magnús Birgersson, King of Sweden 240 Magnús Eiríksson vii, King 10, 43, 141, 239n60, 301n3 Magnús Erlendsson, Saint 131 Feast of 131n39, 136n61 Magnús Erlingsson v, King 24 Magnús Hákonarson vi, King 10–​12, 30, 33, 36, 42–​46, 133n53, 134n55, 136, 137n63, 143, 216, 229n18, 232, 236. See also Landslǫg Marcellinus, Pope 87–​88 Maríubrunnur 264 Maríukvæði 279 Maríu saga 278n56, 282 Martinus de Dacia 20, 305 Michael of Skálholt, Bishop 262n10 Michael Scot 18 Michaels saga, see Bergr Sokkason Missale Nidrosiense 195n48, 199 See also Nidaros, missal Missale Scardense 212, 219 Mortensen, Jakob 23 Munkaþverá; Munka-​Þverá, monastery 82, 153, 154n13, 160, 227, 266, 269, 272–​73, 284n81 Möðruvellir, abbey 153, 234, 236, 237n51, 245–​46, 256, 260, 267–​68, 278 Möðruvellir fram, farm in Eyjafjörður 154 Mörtu saga og Maríu Magdalenu 262, 282 music 2, 3, 183–​99, 203–​19, 262, 264, 274–​ 76, 284 Narfi, Bishop 11–​13, 21, 25 Nidaros 1, 3, 4, 8, 12, 26–​27, 183–​86, 189, 191–​97, 199, 205, 232, 234–​35, 240–​42, 243n75, 256, 260, 261n8, 270, 274, 285 Abbey of Helgisetr 270 Breviary 207, 215n46, 219 Cathedral 27, 191–​93, 216n52, 261n5, 268, 293n3 Dominican friary 262 Missal 212, 219

335 Nikolaus Ólafsson 245 Nikolaus saga; Nicholás saga 30, 207n16 See also Nikuláss saga erkibyskups Nikuláss saga erkibyskups 282 See also Nikolaus saga Nikulás Bergsson 153–​54 Nonneseter, convent 9, 29 “North Icelandic Benedictine School” 3, 93, 98–​100, 109n81, 118, 153, 226–​27, 231, 243, 275, 285 Norwegian Homily Book 24 Oddr Snorrason 153 Oddr Þórarinsson 86 officialis 48, 226, 245–​46, 248, 253–​54, 256, 262–​63, 266, 268, 270–​74, 285 Ordo Fratrum Praedicatorum 1 See also Dominican Order Ordo Nidrosiensis ecclesiae 183–​99 Orléans 19, 21, 23n87, 25, 32, 51, 303, 305, 307, 309, 311 Ormr Ásláksson, Bishop 266–​74 organ, organ music 204, 260–​61, 264, 270–​ 71, 274–​76, 284–​85 Oslo 1, 8, 30, 33, 35 Cathedral 308 St Mary’s Church 211 Ovid  Metamorphoses 30 Ólafr of Nidaros, Archbishop 45n13, 244–​46 Ólafr Eindriðason 33 Óláfr Haraldsson iii, King, see St Óláfr Óláfs saga helga 95 Óláfr Tryggvason, King, chronicles of 154 Óláfr Þórðarson 281 Oluf Pedersen 23 Ögmundr Pálsson, Bishop 276n50 Paraldus, Guiliemus (Guillaume Perault, William Perault)  Summa de virtutibus et vitiis 129n26 Paris 1–​3, 7, 9–​10, 12, 14, 16–​21, 23, 27, 29n128, 34–​35, 41, 47–​52, 67–​68, 71–​72, 114, 127, 158, 301n4, 305, 309 St Jacques 16–​18 Sainte-​Chapelle 9 Saint-​Victor 283n75

336 Index Páll Bárðarson, Archbishop 21, 35, 242n71, 253 Páll Jónsson, Bishop 60 Páll Styrkársson 210n28 Páll Vídalín 164 Páll Þorsteinsson 251–​53 Peter Petersson 23 Petrarca, Francesco 67–​69 Res memorandae 68 Petronius  Satyrica 67 Petrus Alphonsi  Disciplina clericalis 68 Petrus Gervasii 26 Petrus Olavi 23 Petrus Philomena de Dacia 20 Pétr Halldórsson 251 Pétr Nikulásson, Bishop 1 Pétr of Hamar, Bishop 12 Pétrs saga postula 87 Pharetra 129n26 Philip iii, King 216 Philip iv, King 19, 25, 232 Philip of Castile 12 Phrygius, Dares  The History of the Fall of Troy 26n108 Pliny  Naturalis Historia 30 Porsae, Nicholas, Friar 17 Prose Edda 60, 267, 274, 281, 284n81 Pseudo–​Hieronymus  Libellus fidei 131n41 Rafn Jónsson 228, 248–​53 Ragna Marteinsdóttir 29 Raymond of Peñafort  Summa de casibus 129n26, 130, 308–​9 Richard of St Victor  Liber exceptionum 283 Runólfr of Þykkvibær 255, 266 Salomon Þorvaldsson, Bishop 141 scriptorium 24, 34, 73, 125n1, 127, 153–​55, 169–​70, 277, 283n75 Second Grammatical Treatise 274–​76, 277n51, 284 Sigmundr Einarsson 268 Sigurðr Bjarnarson 250 Sigurðr Grímsson 252 Sigurðr of Hlíð 232–​33

Sigurður Sigurðarson 277 Simon de Dacia 20 Simon, Friar 12 sinfonia 275–​76 Skarðsbók 133, 139–​40 Skálholtsbók yngri 140n74, 204 Skálholt Cathedral 127, 191–​93, 203, 204n5, 207, 213, 215, 218, 261, 264, 276–​80, 282–​83, 285 Snorri Andrésson 132, 141 Snorri Jónsson 280 Snorri Narfason 142 Snorri Sturluson 281 Sǫguþáttr af Jóni Halldórssyni biskupi, see Jóns þáttr Solveig Jónsdóttir 265 Solveig Loftsdóttir 82 St Andrew 186 St Cecily 213 St Clement 213. See also Clement v St Jón of Hólar 190, 211–​12, 219 Feast of 192, 205, 211 Office of 211 St Mary 24, 67n10, 84, 208, 231n24, 238 St Matthias 186, 189n24 St Óláfr 8, 213 St Paul 24, 186 St Peter 87–​88, 186, 204, 213–​15 Office of 215 Staðarfellsbók 128n20, 140–​41 Staðarhólsbók 134n60 Stefán Jónsson, Bishop 261n7 Stjórn 22n84, 29–​30, 95, 97–​98, 99n48, 109n81, 159–​60, 169, 266, 277–​78, 279n64, 280, 282–​85 Sturlunga saga 126, 128n20, 235n45 Styrmir fróði Kárason 281 Styrkár, Magister 31 Svalbarðsbók 125, 133–​43 Sverrir Sigurðarson, King 210n28 Sverris saga 154 Swir, Nicholas, Friar 17 Sæmundr Sigfússon 18, 60, 85 Tales of The Arabian Nights 67 Teitr Ísleifsson 60 Thomas Aquinas 204 Thomas saga erkibyskups 95–​96, 98, 169, 262, 282, 285

Index

337

Torstein, Friar 13 Trondheim, see Nidaros Tveggja postola saga Jóns ok Jakobs 282

ævintýr, ævintýri 3, 68–​73, 79–​90, 99, 151–​52, 156, 158–​59, 164–​65, 167, 169–​74, 262, 278, 282

Urban iv, Pope 229n18 Uppsala Cathedral 35

Þingeyrar, monastery 69, 71, 153, 160, 226–​ 28, 237n51, 262–​63, 266, 270–​74, 277, 279–​81, 284 Þorkell Magnússon 250 Þorlákr Loftsson, abbot 267–​68 Þorlákr Þórhallsson, Bishop, Saint 47, 60, 67n10, 80, 203–​19 Feast of 47, 192, 203, 205, 210n29, 211, 213, 218 Office of 3–​4, 203–​9, 212, 214–​19, 261–​62, 264, 270 Þorlákr Runólfsson 140n76 Þorlákstíðir, see Þorlákr Þórhallsson, Office of Þorsteinn Hallson 273 Þorsteinn Jónsson 253 Þorvalðr Magnússon 252 Þorvarðr Grímsson 251, 253 Þórarinn Eiríksson, painter 138n67, 302n7 Þórðr Brattr 31 Þórir Hákonarson 33 Þykkvibær, abbey 74, 263, 265–​71, 273–​74, 285

Valdemar Birgersson, King of Sweden 240 Valkendorf, Erik, Archbishop 193n38 Breviarium Nidrosiense 193–​94, 199 Vincent of Beauvais  Speculum historiale 29, 131n41, 283 Viðey, abbey 192n35, 277, 281–​82, 268, 284 Vilchin of Skálholt, Bishop 217n55, 262n10 Vitae patrum 282 William Durand  Rationale officiorum divinorum 30, 144, 283 William of Malmesbury  Gesta Regum Anglorum 88n26 William of Sabina, Bishop of Modena 13, 130, 302n7 William of Tournai  De instructione puerorum 15–​16 Ynglinga saga 60