Hallgrímur Pétursson
The author of the Passion Hymns – Part 1

Author: Rev. V. J. Eylands (1945)

Three men stand out preeminently in the church history of Iceland, towering over their contemporaries like the mighty mountain peaks over the foothills of their native land, and casting their shadows even upon the most illustrious names of all church leaders since their day. They are: Guðbrandur Þorláksson, Bishop of Hólar (1569–1627), the great scholar who edited and printed the first Icelandic Bible; Jón Vidalín, Bishop of Skálholt (1697–1720), the greatest pulpit orator the Icelandic nation has produced; and Hallgrímur Pétursson, parish priest of Saurbær, in southern Iceland, author of the famous Passion Hymns, the most cherished literary treasure of the Icelandic people.

As bishops, the first two men enjoyed every social and economic advantage the nation could provide. This, of course, aided them immensely in their work and enhanced their prestige. On the other hand, Hallgrímur Pétursson enjoyed few privileges during his lifetime; he tasted the bitter cup of poverty, social ostracism and public persecution, and suffered besides, from the dreadful and fatal scourge of leprosy. And yet, by Christian fortitude and God-given inspiration, he rose above all his limitations and sordid surroundings to become in a manner a Milton, a Dante, and a Goethe to his people. It can be truly said that he was by far the most influential teacher of religion and morals the Icelandic nation has ever had. His hymns have literally followed his people in life and death during two and a half centuries. The first prayers the infant learned to lisp at mother’s knee were verses from his pen, and the bound volume of his hymns have been placed upon the bosoms of countless dead at their burial. It is doubtful whether any other nation has any one character corresponding to Hallgrímur Pétursson in influence and national veneration.

We do not know much about his childhood other than that he was born in the year 1614. The place of birth is not known exactly; it was either the bishop’s residence at Hólar, in northern Iceland, or a nearby farm (Gröf á Höfðaströnd). His father, Pétur Guðmundsson, is said to have been an easy-going character of only mediocre intellect, and of his mother, Sólveig Jónsdóttir, nothing appears to be known. Pétur was a first cousin of Bishop Guðbrandur, and no doubt for that reason was employed as caretaker and sexton at Hólar Cathedral. Pétur appears to have been a pious man, for it is said that he died while reading Martin Mollerius’ Soliloquy of the Soul, one of the famous devotional books of that day, which the bishop had translated and printed at Hólar.

Hallgrímur received his elementary training at Hólar, and the road seemed open to him to pursue his studies there to completion. Something happened, however, to interrupt his course, for at the age of sixteen we find him in Denmark working as an apprentice to a blacksmith in Copenhagen. Historians do not agree as to the cause of this sudden change in his career. Some believe him to have been a disobedient pupil, unduly fond of aiming his sharp poetic ditties at those in authority, particularly at Angrímur Jónsson the Learned, the schoolmaster. Some very sarcastic verses are attributed to him in this connection, which, if true, would certainly have been sufficient reason for his dismissal. Others believe that he was simply a restless youth desiring adventure, and having little inclination to pore over his Latin texts. We shall never know the real reason for this first misfortune in the life of this man.

The change, of course, was not for the better, so far as Hallgrímur was concerned. The blacksmith appears to have been a tyrant who scolded and even abused the boy physically. One day, the two had a particularly violent quarrel, and Hallgrímur ran out on the street, giving his master a piece of his mind in rather unrefined Icelandic. Looking up, after this outburst of rage, he found facing himself on the street, one of the most promising young men at that time studying at the University of Copenhagen, Brynjólfur Sveinsson, later bishop of the southern diocese of Skálholt. He knew about Hallgrímur, who was distantly related to him, and appears to have been looking for him. The ensuing conversation revealed Hallgrímur’s state of mind, and his condition.

Brynjolfur took him in his care, and secured a place for him at Our Lady’s College, one of the best schools in the city. This was Hallgrímur’s second chance to obtain an education, and he made good use of it. He remained at the school for four years, and made rapid progress. But in his senior year, another interruption came, which prevented him from completing the course. In 1627, a Turkish pirate ship had come to the Westman Islands, south of Iceland. The Turks burned numerous houses, killed a number of sick, infirm, and aged people, and took between three and four hundred persons captive and sold them into slavery in Algiers. After ten years of servitude and unspeakable tortures, thirty-eight survivors were ransomed by the Danish Crown and brought back to Copenhagen. They were unable to understand Danish, and many of them had been compelled to renounce their faith in favor of Mohammedanism. In order to restore their childhood faith to them, Hallgrímur was appointed their tutor.

Among these captives was a lady by the name of Guðríður Símonardóttir. She must have been a woman of considerable beauty, because of the eighteen women in the party, the highest ransom was demanded for her. This amounted to two hundred and sixty-two riksthaler, the equivalent of three hundred and ninety-three sheep, according to Icelandic evaluation at that time. It was even rumored that a son of the Governor of Algiers wanted to marry this slave woman, but since such a thing could not be tolerated, the source of his temptation was sent out of the country among the other ransomed slaves. Guðríður had been married before the raid, and so far as anybody then knew, her husband was still living in Iceland. Hallgrímur fell in love with this woman, and decided to leave Copenhagen to go to Iceland with her and the other captives the following spring. She was thirty-eight years of age at the time, but he only twenty-two, or sixteen years her junior.

Shortly after their arrival in Iceland, and upon ascertaining that Guðríður’s husband was dead, they were married, but not until a child had been born to them. This episode was a great blot upon Hallgrímur’s life, for which he received his punishment. The once sweet fruit became bitter in his mouth. The Mohammedan learnings of his wife, were through long years, a source of pain and grief to his sensitive nature. His conscience accused him. Perhaps he had this experience in mind when he said:

“Lord I have sown the seed of sin;

Hideous have my transgressions been.”

The only thing that saved the couple from dire consequences of their conduct was the fact of the husband’s death. As it was, a heavy fine was imposed upon Hallgrímur, which was paid by a few of his friends in the district. After this matter was finally settled to the satisfaction of the law, the couple lived for some years in the vicinity of Reykjavík in dire poverty, trying to live down their past in the midst of hostile surroundings. During those years Hallgrímur tried to provide the necessities of life by hiring out as laborer to the farmers and merchants in the community.

At this time there was great dearth of clergymen in southern Iceland, and a vacancy at Hvalsnes parish, one of the poorest in the district, could not be filled. Besides being poor, this parish had never been able to have clergymen for any length of time, due to the opposition to the church of some arrogant local leaders. Since Hallgrímur had received an education roughly equivalent to that then demanded of the lesser clergy, his friends advised him to apply for the Hvalsnes parish. Acting on this suggestion, he made a trip to the bishop’s seat at Skálholt, where his former friend, Brynjólfur, was now in office. Tradition has it that Hallgrímur was rather homely in appearance, and in his laborer’s attire he looked anything but a likely candidate for the ministerial office. The servants at Skálholt were highly amused when this ragged laborer appeared on the premises and asked to be taken to the bishop’s office. They were more surprised when they found that the bishop received him cordially and set him at his table. Having satisfied himself that Hallgrímur could fulfil the duties of a minister, after he had preached an excellent sermon in the cathedral, the bishop ordained him, gave him garments such as he needed for himself and those pertaining to his office, gave him also a riding horse, and sent him back to his prospective charge. This was in 1644.

On his way back, Hallgrímur came to a farmhouse late one evening and was granted lodging for the night. In the course of the evening, he was asked in the traditional Icelandic way whether he had any news to relate. And Hallgrímur, who was unknown to the hostess, said in a matter of fact way that all he remembered in the way of news, was that Hallgrímur Pétursson had recently been ordained. Whereupon the hostess remarked dryly: “Oh, they ordain everything” (“Allan skrattan vígja þeir”). Perhaps that was characteristic of the public reaction to the sudden change in his fortune. At any rate, this was one of the few triumphs of his life. He had gone to Skálholt on foot, as a sailor or common laborer. He came back, well dressed, an ordained pastor, with a call in his pocket, riding his own pony. He had all of a sudden, in popular opinion, become something that he never was, and never could be – a privileged man, and an aristocrat.

His parish at Hvalsnes received him cooly. Its leaders were furious, considering the appointment of this man to the ministerial office in their parish a great insult. The prefect of the district (sýslumaður) called Hallgrímur “a shabby fellow” (Líðilegur slordóni). The general public danced to the same tune. Life was now perhaps more difficult than ever for Hallgrímur and his wife. And it was not surprising that the congregation found it difficult to accept him as their pastor. This was the same place in which he had suffered his greatest humiliation. He had drifted to these shores a few years ago, a derelict, a failure, accompanied by a former slave woman from Algiers, and married woman at that, with whom he had had illicit relations. They had taken up a collection to save him from the terrible physical punishment usually meted out in such cases at the time, and he, the youngster, had perhaps been unwilling to show appropriate humility in their presence.

During his seven years at Hvalsnes, Hallgrímur was frequently annoyed and even persecuted. Once, during a communion service, he was accused of allowing the communion wine to leak on the floor, a most serious offense. It developed later that one of his enemies had bored a hole in the bottom of the chalice before the service commenced. At another time, when he was to have services, the altar book could not be found anywhere. It was later found in one of the stalls of the cows in the barn where it had lost all ecclesiastical dignity in appearance. Hallgrímur bore these and other indignities patiently, but in 1651 he was relieved of his charge and moved to Saurbær, on the coast of the Hvalfjörður, where he spent the remainder of his active ministry. Hallgrímur’s school of experience at Hvalsnes had been a hard one. But he graduated from it with great credit to himself. He was now widely known as a gifted poet, and as a powerful and eloquent preacher, fearless and faithful in the administration of his sacred duty.

The happiest and most productive years of Hallgrimur’s life were spent at Saurbær. He was now in reasonably good financial circumstances and enjoyed the esteem of his parishioners. He became intensely interested in religious education, which was also the greatest need of his day. The Reformation had indeed been introduced. It had been thrust by a foreign power upon an unenlightened and unwilling people, and had hardly begun to penetrate the consciousness of the masses. The Bible was still an unknown book. Superstition and witchcraft were like plagues in the land. During Hallgrímur’s pastorate in Saurbær, no less than twenty-two men were burned at the stake for practicing sorcery, and some of the most learned and leading men were the chief promoters of this fanaticism. Women were drowned and men beheaded for violating the sixth commandment. Petty thieves were scourged until the blood ran, and for minor infractions men and women were branded with hot irons on the cheek or forehead. This insane cruelty, caused by a paralyzing fear of men and devils marred all human relationships in Iceland during the 11th century. It has never been more true that “darkness covered the land, and gross darkness the people.” But Hallgrímur was called to be the torchbearer for his people. He became an intellectual and spiritual light that shone so brightly in his own day that the shadows of fear were dispersed to some extent even during his lifetime.

The only weapon the young Reformation Church had to throw into the battle against the powers of intellectual and spiritual darkness in the land was the Bible. But how could that weapon be wielded most effectively? How could it be made to reach the masses and influence their thinking and conduct? How could the preacher of righteousness and truth reach the milkmaid, the shepherd, the sailor, the man with the scythe upon the meadow, the merchant and the busy housewife? The masses were still illiterate, and even those who were able to read had no leisure time, as a rule, to follow such pursuits. It was therefore obvious to Hallgrímur that the common people must learn the scriptures by heart, or such portions of them as would be most helpful to them.

Now it is easier to learn and remember poetry than prose, and the Icelanders were very fond of versified history of all kinds. That kind of poetry had long flourished in the land, dealing mostly with deeds of valor according to heathen standards. Hallgrímur applied this method to the scriptures. He occupied himself for a number of years with a selection of various themes from the Bible. He thus put the first book of Samuel in verse, and a part of the second book also, a total of thirty-nine hymns. This effort served a double purpose. First of all it helped to get the contents of the Bible to the people, and also to supply the congregations with much needed hymns. Up to this time, the few hymns in use in the churches were rather clumsy translations from Danish, German, or Latin. Hallgrímur is the first Icelander to write original hymns based on the scriptures or on other prose writings. Several other poets tried their skill at this kind of poetry in those years, and Hallgrímur’s efforts can hardly be said to be superior to some of these. Nor was this to be expected. The purpose of this type of poetry was to convey the contents of the scripture. There was little room for the imagination. However, in those early works, Hallgrímur shows himself to be the master of language and rhyme, and sparks of his genius which came into full view later, are frequently in evidence.

This lecture was delivered at the “Icelandic Canadian Evening School” sponsored by the Icelandic Canadian Club of Winnipeg at First Lutheran Church on 1945, and reflects the language and conventions of the era. This is the first of two installments.