Qualiscunque descriptio Islandiae

It doesn’t necessarily sound exciting to read a book titled Qualiscunque descriptio Islandiae from the 16th century, but what a feast it is, I must admit. Still, I had postponed starting this book, which I had ordered from an antiquarian bookstore earlier this autumn.

The book is called Íslandslýsing in Icelandic and is believed to have been written by Oddur Einarsson. In the book's preface (by Jakob Benediktsson), it is revealed that the manuscript has had a rather tumultuous history and was not preserved in its entirety; it narrowly avoided being lost altogether. Various copies by scholars in the 17th century are thought to have been destroyed in the Copenhagen fire of 1728. However, one copy was rescued and taken to Hamburg, where it was preserved in the State and University Library. This manuscript remained unknown until the 20th century, when a librarian at the library, Fritz Burg, noticed it and finally published it in print in 1928. Burg had his own theory that the author of the manuscript was a schoolmaster in Skálholt named Sigurður Stefánsson, but Jakob Benediktsson points to several indications that Oddur Einarsson was the author. Among these are Oddur’s in-depth knowledge and detailed descriptions of northern and southern Iceland, which, according to Jakob, a resident of the south could not have had.

But who was Oddur Einarsson?

Oddur Einarsson (1559–1630) was born in Oddi, Rangárvellir, and received his education at Hólar School, where he became well acquainted with northern Iceland and the living conditions there. Later, he continued his studies in Copenhagen and Germany, focusing on theology and philosophy. In 1589, he was appointed Bishop of Skálholt, a position he held until his death in 1630.

Oddur was a highly learned man and wrote Íslandslýsing in Latin in 1593 to defend Iceland against the negative descriptions of foreign scholars, who often regarded the country as remote and barren.

It is highly enjoyable to read his descriptions, for instance, of volcanic eruptions, hot springs, avalanches, and natural phenomena such as the northern lights. Particularly interesting are his accounts of birch forests, driftwood, and firewood. He describes the dwellings of the people of that time, providing a valuable source for how Icelandic turf houses developed into the 20th century.

He recounts the relentless cunning and thievery of the Arctic fox and the polar bears that arrive on drift ice from Greenland. He describes livestock and domestic animals such as horses and dedicates an excellent section to dogs:

"Iceland is very rich in dogs. Some are farm dogs, bred to guard houses; others are herding dogs, fiercely eager to gather the flocks scattered throughout the mountains and valleys. Then there are those that are solely lapdogs, taught various tricks by country folk. Finally, there are hunting dogs, much larger and trained in entirely different ways. They are used for fox hunting, tracking down the fox with incredible skill—not only by sight or sound but also by scenting the tracks of their prey. When they catch the fox, they either bite off its head, tear it apart, or strangle it without causing damage, depending on their level of ferocity. Additionally, farmers use various techniques to ambush the fox and avenge its cunning and theft."

When I read these descriptions, I see the Icelandic dog as we know it today: a blend of the best qualities of these dogs. They guard houses, herd flocks, are pampered, and can be taught tricks. They are highly skilled trackers and possess excellent scenting abilities.

From the three types of dogs frequently mentioned well into the 18th century (e.g., by Eggert Ólafsson and Bjarni Pálsson, 1752–1757), the dog we have today emerged. For me, this explains the versatility that the Icelandic dog embodies today.

Image: From a 16th-century manuscript in the Árni Magnússon Institute.