Genealogy Within the Viking World
by Sir Egil Njalsson
(September 1996)

Icelandic saga writing began in earnest in the early 12th century, less than a century after the end of the viking period (Magnusson and Palsson, 1966). This growth of tales about pagan heroes and cultures was actually encouraged by the growing church within Iceland, as a means of fighting ignorance within the general population. Yet the Icelandic tradition of recording history differed distinctly from the traditions of the other Scandinavian countries: Icelandic culture itself was only a few centuries old, and the country was ruled by general concensus among dozens of relatively equal families and leaders, through strict adherence to a specific and rather sophisticated body of laws, rather than by a central monarchy. There was no king, so there could not be any sort of "royal lineage" focus to their sagas, as occurred in places like Norway (Hollander, 1965). Rather, there were dozens of important families, and hundreds of individual characters, of roughly equal importance from a historical perspective.

At this time, the tales of the great heroes and kings were still well known, but true accounts of the deeds of lesser individuals were fading from the collective consciousness. Through a strong oral tradition, the stories were however kept more-or-less intact by the storytellers: in a culture which did not focus on written records, oral storytelling was prized, and accuracy was of paramount importance. Yet the typical audience member may not have heard of any given individual, or may have heard of them in another tale but could not immediately place exactly how they related to other historical characters.

At the time, it was strongly believed that a person was born to their fate -- good or evil, lucky or unlucky -- and there wasn't much you could do about it. Further, in general you would get most of your qualities genetically, from one or both parents (typically both, but good people tended to marry good people, and vice versa; so you didn't usually have to worry about good traits mixing with bad). Thus, by knowing a person's ancestry, and relating it to well-known characters whose exploits were easily remembered, not only would you know how a person fit into Icelandic history; but you would also have a good idea of the qualities of that individual. Or, as Magnusson and Pallson (1966) put it, "an individual's status still depended to a large extent on the achievements of his immediate ancestors, and his strength within the community was measured by the range and importance of his family connexions [sic] as well as by his personal prowess." (p.35)

Therefore, a person would typically be introduced into a story via an account of who they were related to. This gave the audience a connection from the unknown to the known, and gave them a sense of what to expect from this person. This didn't "ruin" anything for the audience, as contemporary listeners weren't really into keeping the ending a surprise -- the audience typically knew what was going to happen; but, as with a good but unbalanced modern sporting match, the fun part of the experience was watching the events unfold rather than trying to figure out what the ending would be. Allow me to share a few examples:

Eirik's Saga, one of the Vinland sagas, starts out by introducing a man called Thorstein, via his parents: "There was a warrior king called Olaf the White, who was the son of King Ingjald, the son of Helgi, the son of Olaf, the son of Gudrod, the son of Halfdan White-Leg, king of the Uplanders... He married Aud the Deep-Minded, the daughter of Ketil Flat-Nose, the son of Bjorn Buna, an excellent man in Norway; they had a son called Thorstein the Red." All this was written simply to introduce Thorstein. Without going into details on both lineages, suffice it to say that Thorstein was born of good ancestry, and was pre-destined for greatness. In the next paragraph, "Thorstein married Thurid, the daughter of Eyvind the Easterner and the sister of Helgi the Lean; they had many children." Again, honorable families are mentioned. This looked to be a good marriage. Upon becoming king, Thorstein allied himself with "Earl Sigurd the Powerful, the son of Eystein the Noisy." (Magnusson and Palsson, 1965, p.75). Sigurd himself was quite a hero. The alliance between Thorstein and Sigurd is also mentioned in Orkneyinga Saga (Palsson and Edwards, 1978, p.27), in which this same Earl Sigurd is the hero of the first dozen or so chapters of the book.

The importance of Thorstein the Red can be seen by his further mention at the introduction of Njal's Saga, where (if you'll pardon the switch to a translator with different spelling and naming translations) "the story turns westward to the Broadfirth dales, where, at Hauskuldstede, in Laxriverdale, dwelt a man named Hauskuld [note that he is the founder of Hauskuldstede], who was Dalakoll's son, and his mother's name was Thorgerda. Thorgerda was daughter of Thorstein the Red, who was Olaf the White's son, Ingialld's son, Helgi's son. Ingialld's mother was Thora, daughter of Sigurd Snake-i'-the-eye, who was Ragnar Hairybreek's son. And [sic] the Deeply-wealthy [that is, Aud the Deep-Minded] was Thorstein the Red's mother; she was daughter of Kettle Flatnose, who was Bjorn Boun's son, Grim's son, Lord of Sogn in Norway." (Dasent, 1911, p.1)

This family is introduced again in Laxdaela Saga, which starts by describing Ketil's lineage: "There was a man called Ketil Flat-Nose, who was the son of Bjorn Buna... Ketil Flat-Nose was married to Yngvild, the daughter of Ketil Wether, a man of great distinction... The second daughter was called Unn [that is, Aud] the Deep-Minded; she was the wife of Olaf the White. Olaf the White was the son of Ingjald, the son of King Frodi the Valiant [not Helgi?], who was killed by Earl Sverting and his sons." (Magnusson and Palsson, 1969, p.47) Through these recurring characters, and their relationships to or enmities with other characters, we can get a pretty good idea of what to expect from the heroes and villains of our story. In this case, once again, we are dealing with an honorable and noble family, and should expect great things from anyone born to this kind of lineage.

Sometimes, the accomplishments or physical characteristics of an individual could even become part of the name of the next generation. In Egil's Saga, the title hero was born to a man originally named Grim. In an age when most men didn't live long enough to lose their hair, Grim lost his a bit early, and picked up the nickname "Bald-Grim," or in Old Icelandic, "Skallagrim." Thus, his son Egil was known as "Egil Skallagrimsson." In this manner, even a nickname could become part of the next generation's patronym, as it helped you to remember exactly who this youngster was related to. In fact, Grim himself was born to a man originally named Ulf, but nicknamed Kveldulf ("evening wolf") because of his surly nature toward bedtime, and the rumors that he was a shape-changer; so Grim was originally called Grim Kveldulfsson before his own nickname stuck, after which he was typically known simply as Skallagrim. (Palsson and Edwards, 1976)

This tradition, to a lesser extent, has been maintained to the present day. For the last thousand years or more within most of the Scandinavian countries, a person's last name has been based on a form of their father's first name (the "patronymic"). Each generation's last name was typically different from both their parents' last names and those of their children (which makes trying to trace your genealogy a real pain). In Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, the practice froze about midway through the 19th century (earlier in some parts; later in others), and the patronymic name used by that generation has been passed on to the remaining descendants. Yet even today the practice is still maintained in Iceland, where each generation is typically still named after their father, or occasionally their mother. Thus, a modern Anders Olafsson may sire the next Erling Andersson or Sigrid Andersdottir. The tradition is alive and well, albeit in a single, small country, and gives no indication of decay.

One can only speculate as to the importance this places on the family unit within a culture. In American culture, might both parents put a little more effort into raising a child responsibly if the child bore, as a last name, the first name of their parent, rather than some long-forgotten ancestor? Don't we tend to put a little more pride into the things we actually sign our name to, as opposed to the things we do anonymously? It would certainly be an interesting experiment...

References

Dasent, Sir George Webbe [trans.] (1911). The Story of Burnt Njal, anonymous (13th c.). New York: E.P. Dutton & Co.

Hollander, Lee M. [trans.] (1965). Heimskringla: History of the Kings of Norway, by Snorri Sturluson (c.1220). Austin: The University of Texas Press.

Magnusson, Magnus and Hermann Palsson [trans.] (1966). The Vinland Sagas: The Norse Discovery of America, anonymous (12th & 13th c.). New York: Penguin Books.

----- [trans.] (1969). Laxdaela Saga, anonymous (c.1245). New York: Penguin Books.

Palsson, Hermann and Paul Edwards [trans.] (1976). Egil's Saga, probably by Snorri Sturluson (c.1230). New York: Penguin Books.

----- [trans.] (1978). Orkneyinga Saga: The History of the Earls of Orkney, anonymous (c.1200). New York: Penguin Books.

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