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SNORRI GOÐI AND WILLIAM MARSHAL

Liliane Irlenbusch

‐Reynard

Published online: 05 Jan 2009.

To cite this article: Liliane Irlenbusch

‐Reynard (2006) SNORRI GOÐI AND WILLIAM MARSHAL,

Scandinavian Journal of History, 31:1, 52-69, DOI:

10.1080/03468750510014123

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Liliane Irlenbusch-Reynard

SNORRI GOÐI AND WILLIAM MARSHAL

The 13th century’s human ideals in the Icelandic

and the Anglo-Norman environments

This article deals with the personalities of Snorri goði and William Marshal as described
by two great literary works,

Eyrbyggja saga and L’Histoire de Guillaume le

Mare´chal, both believed to have been written between 1220 and 1250 by two unknown
narrators. Concentrating upon the destiny of these two heroes and the ethics praised
through these two works, this study aims to illustrate the value of a comparative approach
focusing on the concept of human ideals in two different environments: feudal Europe and
Iceland, during the same period, when, in the first part of the 13th century, a French
speaking poet chose to narrate the life of William Marshal while a Scandinavian narrator
decided to write about Snorri goði, giving them literary fame and delivering two models of
conduct to history.

Between 1220 and 1250, two unknown writers are believed to have created Eyrbyggja
saga

and L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal, offering to their descendants the hero they

could be proud of and delivering two models of conduct to history. Although these
heroes lived two centuries apart from each other,

1

in two countries very distant and

very dissimilar, they show – as described by these two authors – many common
characteristics, shared a large number of values, and their fates were remarkably
parallel. After a long life of struggles, facing both good and bad fortunes, Snorri goði
and William Marshal finally died aged around 70 as very successful men, having
earned great reputations in their respective countries. They both deserved literary
fame, a wish for eternity apparently fulfilled, as we are still discussing them centuries
after their death. A study of these two lives illustrates the value of a comparative
approach, particularly through a comparison of the concept of the human ideals in the
Anglo-Norman and French as well as the Icelandic environments. A comparative study
will expose what these particular 13th century’s sources exemplified in these two
personalities, each culture will become a reference to evaluate the other, a
confrontation that will erode commonly-held preconceptions. The challenge is indeed
to pass beyond differences without denying them, to pass beyond the image of the
often cynical prudence of the grand Icelandic bo´ndi who is too readily contrasted with
the loyal courage of the ‘‘greatest knight of the world’’.

Scandinavian Journal of History Vol. 31, No. 1. March 2006, pp. 52–69
ISSN 0346-8755 print/ISSN 1502-7716 online

ß 2006 Taylor & Francis

http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals

DOI: 10.1080/03468750510014123

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A comparative study in three steps will distinguish successively: first, the human

characteristics of William Marshal and Snorri goði; second, their aims and the
strategies used in order to reach them; finally, the political, economical, social and
cultural requirements and constraints they had to tackle.

Several studies have dealt with the personalities of William Marshal and Snorri

goði and with the links between the Norse kingdoms and feudal Europe during the
Middle Ages. It was the achievement of Georges Duby to revive the chivalric world to
today’s readers’ eyes with his edition of Guillaume le Mare´chal ou Le meilleur chevalier du
monde

.

2

Yet, due to his wonderfully smooth recitation, one tends to forget that a

struggle for power and the enticement of wealth were actually driving these braves
from tournament to tournament. The chivalric mentality was more pragmatic than
Georges Duby implies; people of that time worried less about the means than the end
– as Kristel Skorge Steen and Tor Einar Fagerland rightly pointed out in their essay
on the political ‘‘mentality’’ in L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal: ‘‘one just had to
be successful in one’s business’’

3

. And William’s intelligence is surely not to be

underestimated… Over the last three decades, research – and in particular the studies
of Jean Flori and Constance Brittain Bouchard – has expanded our understand-
ing of medieval aristocracy and chivalry, proposing new and highly interesting
interpretations.

4

Through the years, several scholars – Theodore M. Andersson, Jean-Pierre

Mabire, Helgi Þorla´ksson and Elin Ba´ra Magnu´sdo´ttir among others – have proposed
various and pertinent analysis of Eyrbyggja saga and of the personality of Snorri goði,
arousing interest for this remarkable text and this fascinating man.

5

Other scholars,

and in particular Arne Odd Johnsen, Lars Lo¨nnroth, Mattias Tveitane, Paul Schach
and Knud Togeby

6

, dared to propose a convergency of the two worlds of Latin and

Scandinavian, which seem a priori such different, in underlining their mutual cultural
relations and the impact of Latin historiography, of hagiography and of courtly
romance on the development of Norse literature. Bearing in mind these studies,

7

a survey focusing more specifically on the human ideals and more directly on a
comparison of texts of the same epoch in Scandinavia and feudal Europe could be
of great interest. Were the ethics that guided the Icelandic people really so
fundamentally different from those which their southern contemporaries followed, as
it often has been pointed out? Was there not a common set of values deriving from a
common cultural heritage, held in honour unison beyond all the often-quoted specific
patterns? Which role did the political, social and cultural context of the 13th century
play in this prodigious literary renovation process, both in feudal Europe and in
Iceland? Were William Marshal and Snorri goði – as depicted in L’Histoire de Guillaume
le Mare´chal

and Eyrbyggja saga – so different? Did they not share many qualities,

aptitudes and aims?

In these two works, the Occident of the 13th century reveals itself, displaying its

idea of the past and its perception of history. Unlike Laxd

œ

la saga

and Brennu-Nja´ls saga

– among others – which obviously reflect the great influence of feudal Europe’s
mentality on Scandinavia’s set of values, Eyrbyggja saga does not emphasize the
Christian and the courtly conceptions, and that is precisely the reason why a
comparative study of this particular saga and of a chivalric panegyric should be of
special interest.

SNORRI GOÐI AND WILLIAM MARSHAL

53

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Concentrating upon the destiny of the two heroes means also taking up the

essential (and eternal) debate upon the perception of the individual in the Middle
Ages, a perception that seems to reach beyond the frame of the archetype and
constantly repeated cliche´s from one text to another in an age that was not yet afraid
of reiteration. The quantity and the quality of previous research on this issue

8

not only

provide a solid corpus of information and questioning, but also stimulate further
investigations, especially towards a more systematical comparative approach dealing
with the works written in French and Old Norse during that century which emerged
from the cultural renovation in the course of the previous decades – that ‘‘fine 13th
century’’.

Snorri and William – who were they?

In spite of their rather modest descent, both Snorri and William were of aristocratic
lineage. Snorri’s grandfather Þo´ro´lfr Mostrarskegg was a Norvegian chieftain who –
according to the tradition – had been forced to leave the country under the reign of
Haraldr ha´rfagri and took exile on Iceland in 884. Snorri is said to have been born in
963. He grew up among the grand b

œ

ndr

and local chieftains. At the time of the

Christianization of Iceland in 999/1000, Snorri had emerged as a local authority. He
was a goði. As such – as Jo´n Viðar Sigurðsson showed in his book Chieftains and Power
in the Icelandic Commonwealth

– he had a quite important political and social power in

his district.

9

And he was ‘‘a skrewd, politic chieftain who is not afraid to assert his

authority, but who knows the limits of his power’’.

10

As a character in no less than

five Sagas of Icelanders, he appears to have been one of the most famous chieftains of
the Saga Age. The Sturlungar, one of the most important families in Icelandic history,
who dominated the country in the 13th century, could count him – like Egill
Skallagrı´msson – as their famous ancestor.

William, born around 1145, stemmed from a modest line of English nobility. As

a fortune-less cadet he left his family’s place for the land of chivalry in order to study
the art of arms from William of Tancarville, a cousin of his father, who presided over
a large household in Normandy – a rather banal beginning of a career so far.
However, he soon displayed remarkable combat skills, the root of an exceptional life.
He started as a tournament champion, gathered much wealth and served five kings.
He became an earl and died in 1216 being Regent of England when Henry III was but
a nine-year-old boy at the death of his father John the Landless.

Both L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal and Eyrbyggja saga contributed in a similar

manner to immortalizing these two remarkable men, and thus provided the necessary
greatness to their descendants to manifest their pretensions in those uncertain times.
These two great literary works created two heroes and featured a pattern of ethics
rocked by the new ideas.

The two heroes – a physical portrait

According to Eyrbyggja saga, Snorri was a medium tall man with a friendly, regular
shaped face. He was fair-haired with a red beard and pale skin. William was tall with a
well-shaped, straight body and handsome limbs. Both his hair and skin were of brown

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colour, but – as his biographer is eager to stress – from his appearance he might have
been taken for the emperor of Rome. And, of course, he was a great horseman, as his
body suggested.

11

When Snorri’s remains were exhumed after decades, Guðny´, wife

of Hvamm-Sturla and mother of Snorri, Þo´rðr and Sighvatr Sturluson, remarked upon
his ordinary stature as if such a great personality necessarily had to be outstanding
even physically.

12

To be a darker type like Guillaume was not particularly a sign of

quality. As Georges Duby puts it in his work on William Marshal, ‘‘in these times
black was associated obstinately with sin or misery’’, while blond hair and fair skin
characterized saints and valiant knights.

13

Indeed, this idea was not new: Since

antiquity, as Lars Lo¨nnroth points out in his studies about portrait in Latin
historiography and the sagas,

14

the belief that the character of an individual was

reflected in his appearance was common, and the colour of skin was an especially
significant matter of evidence. Even though our two heroes do not quite resemble
each other, they still both are handsome men: Snorri with caution, William with
splendour – like an omen for their destinies. Snorri was not going to be a warrior; he
was slender. William would become a knight; he had got an athletic stature. The
former is a saga hero whose face and personal characteristics are foremost of interest
to the author who – in order to express his value – has to distinguish him. The latter is
the subject of a magnifying chivalric panegyric, and William’s ‘‘beautiful limbs’’,
‘‘beautiful feet’’ and ‘‘beautiful hands’’

15

attest to a nobility defined by its sheer

opposition to the meagre peasant with limbs bent of misery and sickness. Apart from
these differences and the individual physical features of each of the two heroes, the
very ideal is fundamentally identical: In Iceland as well as in feudal Europe, tallness
and the colour of hair and skin are important. The 13th century preferred tall, blond-
haired and fair-skinned men; this period loved harmony and the well-proportioned. In
contemporary understanding, beauty indicated noble decent, and a person’s moral
characteristics were displayed entirely in his or her appearance.

First success – in answer of the critics

At the age of 14, Snorri left Iceland in the company of his foster brothers to spend a
year in Norway. Concluding from the saga texts, the Icelandic settlers kept up
relations with their homelands, and the Norwegian grand farmers warmly welcomed
the descendants of those who once were friends or even parents of their own
ancestors. Travelling abroad, to Norway in the first place, was a common pattern in
saga literature, as Lars Lo¨nnroth outlines in his study of Nja´ls saga.

16

This was a kind

of initiation, an essential experience, a quasi-implied trial for those carrying certain
ambitions. In Eyrbyggja saga, though, the journey’s report is reduced down to a few
lines – Snorri is not an ‘‘ordinary’’ hero: no cruel Viking episode, no career at court,
no praise for bravery. The author seems eager to see him back in Iceland. Snorri was
quite different from his foster brothers: Þorleifr kimbi had been flinging his money
around for luxury clothing and outfits while the other, Þo´roddr, had been striving for
a cleverer balance between spending and stinting. Snorri’s coat was black, his mare’s
saddle was old-fashioned and his weapons bore no ornaments, making him
everybody’s laughing-stock

17

as if he had failed in business. But Snorri had been

thrifty instead which then allowed him to buy out his uncle and stepfather Bo¨rkr from

SNORRI GOÐI AND WILLIAM MARSHAL

55

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Helgafell farm. This event marks the beginning of Snorri’s social ascent – he is
presented as intelligent, remarkably shrewd and destined for success.

The same rules apply to feudal Europe: A young nobleman was bound to leave

home in search of tuition and trial. Neither there nor in Iceland did this mean a simple
journey or a short trip; this meant proving oneself abroad and founding a reputation
to be built up in the course of time. Just like Snorri after his return, William was
mocked in William of Tancarville’s household; he was criticized and even nicknamed
as ‘‘nuisance’’

18

. Yet he had irreversibly begun an ascension which was going to take

him to the top of his society’s hierarchy. Being derided and bullied – both of our
heroes are misunderstood and know what humiliation means. But they prove
tenacious and worthy of the blows of fate. Snorri ‘‘used to be even tempered; it was
difficult to guess what he liked or disliked’’, and William was devoid of expression at
all, being ‘‘gentle’’ and ‘‘benign’’ by nature.

19

As the narrator emphasizes, Snorri had now become a grand bo´ndi with a nice

piece of land and plenty of livestock, as well as many men in his service. In addition to
that, he was a goði and ‘‘he became then an important chieftain but his power was
widely begrudged’’.

20

William, for his part, became a knight, a professional warrior

highly trained at arms, courageous and brave. He gathered wealth, tournament after
tournament, and soon proved his excellence in battle supporting his new protector,
the Earl of Salisbury being his uncle on his mother’s side. When the Earl fell,
cowardly surprised from behind, William raged for vengeance

21

and fought furiously

against more than 60 opponents. This event was, following Georges Duby, decisive in
William’s career: Taking revenge, he also defended the king’s honour as the Earl of
Salisbury had been charged by Henry II with the protection of Queen Eleanor who
stayed in Poitou in order to settle a rebellion – and, ‘‘due to his uncle’s familiarity,
this accidental event promoted even him into familiarity with the sovereign’’.

22

William had now advanced upon the very threshold to the spheres of high nobility and
power. Like Snorri, he had gained all the essential necessary to success. And, like
Snorri, he will have to face adversity, his career and power exciting envy and rising
suspicion.

23

Certain qualities, an excellent marriage and exceptional longevity.
Or: the keys to success

Both Snorri and William – according to Eyrbyggja saga and L’Histoire de Guillaume le
Mare´chal

– used their intelligence, patience and obstinacy to move up to and install

themselves within the high ranks. In fact, they had more in common than it seems.
They were equally determined, interested and striving for power. Highly
opportunistically, they were calculating their moves, waiting for the right time to
strike. They never overestimated their own abilities, their influence and authority.
They were indeed clever politicians and both ‘‘caution heroes’’ who used a lifetime to
reach full success. They took the right decisions, and they accumulated wealth without
any emotion. William was a seigneur with ‘‘an eye to his own interests’’,

24

to quote

his panegyrist. When in his last days, the aged knight was begged by his intimates to
return what he had been grabbing during his long-lasting life – and to find salvation
through that – he refused: Pragmatically and without remorse or shame, he declared

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this idea virtually unrealistic because he had collected horses, weapons and all
equipment from altogether 500 defeated knights.

25

Snorri and William gave useful advice and soon became indispensable to their

environment; they fulfilled a role which Lars Lo¨nnroth in his study of Nja´ls saga
describes as ‘‘the Wise Counselors’’.

26

Still, while Snorri was ‘‘prescient’’, casting

‘‘something mysterious about him’’

27

, there was nothing mysterious about William.

His panegyrist emphasizes that he gave counsel to the princes and monarchs and that
his advice was frank and loyal and far from double-dealing. An open-eyed and prudent
counsellor and his ‘‘grant sens’’: This is what worried Philippe Auguste when Prince
Louis attempted to conquer England – and failed.

28

In addition, both Snorri and William made sure to marry well, matching their

ambitions. The former took a young bride of a good family, a descendant of Jarl
Kjallakr, founding an alliance of mutual advantage. The personalities of Snorri and his
father-in-law Arngrı´mr Þorgı´msson, nicknamed Vı´ga-Styrr, were complementing each
other: cunning Snorri and clashing Arngrı´mr.

29

They both could count on a large

number of relatives and allies all over the district, a political and quasi-military
alliance indeed, which was widely – and without disfavour – acknowledged: ‘‘people
considered each of them to have been lifted off by their new family ties’’.

30

William,

on his part, was promised the hand of Isabel of Striguil and her immense heritage by
Henry II in compensation for his services, and he eventually was given that most
desired lady by Richard I. This marriage made his promotion to high nobility: Aged
almost 50, he became Earl of Pembroke. In fact, William had married the second
wealthiest heiress of contemporary England who was bringing in not only estates and
manors in England, but also some precious liege land in Normandy and almost one
fourth of Ireland.

31

The poor knight who formerly did not even possess one foot of

ground became the husband of a grand-daughter of an Irish king – much more than
merely to move from rags to riches.

Snorri and William continued what they had begun and arranged similar good

marriages for their descendants, consolidating and expanding with caution and
cleverness their network of allies, installing their family within the elite of their
countries’s society. The authors are eager to praise the skilled marriages politics of
their protagonists. In a final homage in the last chapter of Eyrbyggja saga the narrator
summarizes, ‘‘his popularity grew as he kept spinning marriage ties with the most
important men of the Breiðafjo¨rðr and many other places around’’.

32

Then the writer

lines up the good marriages of Snorri’s daughters Sigrı´ðr, Unnr, Þo´rdı´s, Hallbera and
Þo´ra (the other ones got into wedlock after his death), and finally he describes the
fortunes of Snorri’s sons and their descendants. These last sentences express what the
author wished to be remembered of his hero, how he wanted the importance of this
prestigious descendancy to be distinguished.

William, too, made his moves to establish his lineage among the great. He had (at

least) five sons and five daughters and, as the praising poet remarks on the occasion of
the marriage of William’s eldest daughter, he actually never neglected neither his
advantage nor his honour.

33

He did just the opposite, the author tells in appreciation.

It was Hugh Bigot, the future Earl of Norfolk, who was given the hand of Mathilda (or
Maheut). Likewise, Isabel and Sibyl were married off appropriately to two sons of
earls,

34

while daughter number four, Eve, had to be content with a husband from a

more modest lineage. Joan, still unmarried when her father passed away, was being

SNORRI GOÐI AND WILLIAM MARSHAL

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‘‘placed’’ by her brother who, in his turn, had been taken care of by William himself
as expectant of practically the entire inheritance.

35

Consequently, the marriage of

William Junior constituted another excellent bargain – for both sides – for he got the
only daughter of the Earl of Aumale.

36

In these times, a marriage was not a private

affair – it was a lineage affair which was contracted with purpose: to consolidate an
alliance, to make friends, to become established in an environment or to avoid
conflicts. After his father’s death, Guillaume Junior married a second time, taking a
daughter of King John like Isabel who got a son of John as second husband. Both
Snorri and William had full success in their ambitions, manifested in their numerous
children, prospering and well-married – their final coup.

At last, these rich, powerful and distinguished men died at the ripe age of some

70 years. They were granted a long life; an extraordinary privilege in a time where
perishing early was rather the rule.

37

Eight years after the legal adoption of

Christianism in Iceland – a choice in which Snorri played an active part according to
Eyrbyggja saga

– Snorri moved to Tunga in Sælingsdal, exchanging his farm with

Guðru´n O

´ svı´frsdo´ttir. It is in one laconic sentence, just mentioning this fact, that the

author notices that Snorri moved from Helgafell.

38

Probably, as Laxd

œ

la saga

presents

it, Snorri took the opportunity offered by Guðru´n – who preferred not to live in
proximity to the men who had killed her husband – to withdraw from foes living too
close by him.

39

Nothing such is suggested in Eyrbyggja saga, and, to quote Helgi

Þorla´ksson, the fact is presented – not explained – as if the circumstances were
perfectly known to everybody.

40

Deliberately, I believe, the author prefers to narrate

the conflict at the Þo´rsnessþing, the spring assembly at Snæfellsness, concluding:
‘‘This sommer, Þorsteinn of Hafsfjarðarey moved the Rauðmelingagoðorð away from
Þo´rnessþing, thinking he had been put in a position of inferiority by Snorri and his kin;
he and his relatives established a þing in the Straumfjord which existed a long time
after.’’

41

In the last conflict narrated in Eyrbyggja saga, the O

´ spakr episode, once again

the author emphasizes Snorri’s caution – waiting before acting – and his authority.
Though outlawed by Snorri for their misdeeds in the district, O

´ spakr Kjallaksson and

his men went back to their harmful activities, raiding farms. Snorri besieged their
stronghold and forced them to surrender, bringing back peace in the district as a good
chieftain was supposed to do.

42

Snorri lived in Tunga for 20 years, and ‘‘as Snorri

aged, his popularity grew which was a result of the dwindling number of his foes.’’

43

One by one, his enemies died away, like Þorsteinn Kuggason, Þorgils Ho¨lluson and
other influent men who had been not particularly fond of him. Gradually he had
managed to strengthen his position, to multiply his alliances and to extinguish his
rivals one after another.

Climbing up that high took William many long years as well, and he almost had to

wait until his fifties to establish himself eventually. Successively, the kings of England
died, and William was still there. According to L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal, his
regency rewarded half a century of fidelity to the Plantageneˆts.

Two exceptional characters and the ethics praised

William and Snorri are heroes in the sense of being main characters of a narrative, but
there is indeed nothing heroic or dramatic about them and their life. As Theodore M.

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Andersson puts it, ‘‘Snorri emerges not as a standard saga hero, as the tragic chieftain
who succumbs in the end and despite exemplary behavior, or the overbearing
chieftain who carries all before him’’.

44

A rather equivalent appreciation could be

given of William’s personality: despite his exceptional bravery and great knightly
deeds, William is not a standard hero as described in the Chansons de Geste or in the
Romans courtois

. Snorri and William are too patient, too cautious, too shrewd, too

pragmatic, too interested in their own profits to stand as standard heroes. In fact, they
stand as great characters with rather complex personalities that we get to know
gradually throughout their decisions and actions. And indeed, the description of
William and Snorri as unarchetypal heroes brings the readers closer to the human
ideals of the 13th century, to their nuances and complexity: The archetypal hero being
a far too stereotyped construction excluding delicate differences, an abstract
construction belonging to no real time.

William and Snorri are only exceptional characters, and the story of their life is

more or less historical, more or less fictitious – essentially historical for William,
essentially fictitious for Snorri. L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal was written by a
professional, a trouve`re, a poet paid by the older son of William. The material from
which this work is made is mainly oral, collected here and there among those who
knew William, as the poet did – and essentially John of Early who went into his
service in 1188 and lived by his side as a close friend to the end. And the poet, under
the vigilant attention of William Junior, worked his materials, giving to the posterity a
unique testimony about the chivalry, the chivalry seen through its own eyes.

45

When

writing Eyrbyggja saga, the author could consult both written and oral sources, a rich
tradition indeed. Among these sources, in all probability, he used Heiðarvı´ga saga, Ævi
Snorra goða

, an old version of the Landna´mabo´k, and some skaldic poems, like

Illugadra´pa´

by Oddr Breiðfirðringr and Hrafnsma´l by Þormo´ðr Trefilsson from which

he chose to quote several stanzas.

46

From these materials and others – unknown today

or raising more questions about actually having been used or not – the author of
Eyrbyggja saga

made his own picture of Snorri goði and of the 10th- and 11th-century

Iceland. A close look at Heiðarvı´ga saga, Grettis saga, Laxd

œ

la saga

and Nja´ls saga, as

Sophie A. Krijn did, reveals clearly how the description of Snorri is varying from one
text to another in order to fit into each particular text and the role given to him.

47

Comparing Snorri goði as described in Eyrbyggja saga and Snorri Sturluson as he
appeared in Sturlunga saga, showing the numerous similarities between these two
personalities and concluding that Snorri goði could have been shaped after the model
of Snorri Sturluson, Helgi Þorla´ksson noticed that in Hrafnsma´l by Þormo´ðr Trefilsson
and the Ma´hlı´ðingavı´sur attributed to Þo´rarinn svarti, Snorri appears as a great warrior,
something Eyrbyggja saga does not suggest.

48

Indeed, the author of Eyrbyggja saga – as

any author of a Saga of Icelanders or more generally: as it was common in the Middle
Ages – molded his materials, adapted his sources in order to fit his intention, and was
not afraid of any eventual anachronisms.

Both William and Snorri are literary creations of the 13th century and, to quote

Elin Ba´ra Magnu´sdo´ttir, the aim of the author of Eyrbyggja saga must have been to
create a saga hero who could deal successfully with the problems the society had to
face, a character fitted with the necessary leading qualities, the one the society
needed, and Snorri became ‘‘an unusual hero in a unusual Saga of Icelanders.’’

49

And

William is presented as the very man the English monarchy needed by then, the hero

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who indeed would rescue the Plantageneˆts’ monarchy. When William accepted the
regency, many English barons were in rebellion, the future of the young Henry III was
threatened: William then declared that he would carry him on his neck from one
island to another in order to save him and his title to the throne…

50

Snorri and

William were, so to speak, ‘‘in the right place at the right time’’. Furthermore, they
were the incarnation of the ethics praised by the authors who decided to write about
them. William had got the virtues the chivalry admired and Snorri possessed those
qualities that the anonymous author(s) of the Ha´vama´l appreciated.

At the court of France, the news came: William was dead. The king and his

barons spoke in praise of the defunct. According to his biographer, this evening of
1219, in the land of the chivalry, William was declared ‘‘the best knight of the
world’’.

51

This ideal knight was strong of body and handsome, the right association of

vigour and dignity, as a soldier and a noble. He was a skilled warrior, brave but
clever, temerity is of no profit. Life was precious and to be defeated in a tournament
or on the battlefield, might it even result in death or poverty. He never fought the
helpless, highly caring for his reputation. He was loyal to his patron as a member of
his household or to his suzerain as a vassal. Wise and smart, he was their good
counsellor. Without their protection and liberality, no social promotion could be
expected. He was patient as much as ambitious, and he had got the cleverness to be
able to be modest while waiting for the right opportunity. And one day, his ability as a
warrior, his pragmatic intelligence and his fidelity were rewarded: He was proposed a
young bride of high birth, getting finally power and wealth, becoming a baron, getting
the praised possibility to show his nobility by liberalities. William’s life attested to the
respectability and the accuracy of the ethics praised by the chivalry; it was matching
and supporting the pretentions of these professional warriors proud of belonging to
the nobility.

Indeed, William’s ethical behavior cannot be characterized as the simple-minded

soldier’s ethics, rough and consisting in three values, prowess, liberality and loyalty,
as Georges Duby concluded.

52

In the last decades, scholars have shown the difficulty

of speaking of one chivalric model of behavior and instead suggested different models,
as Constance Brittain Bouchard notes, and concludes that in fact ‘‘there never were any
clear and distinct ‘models’’’.

53

Indeed, the ethics praised as chivalric evolved through

the Middle Ages, and the authors of the time privileged some values more than
others did, adding to the complexity of perceiving how the chivalry wanted to be
described and remembered. The problem is complex by all means, and every
statement has to admit nuances. However, I believe, a common set of values – indeed
in gradual elaboration and adaption – did guide the chivalry through the Middles
Ages.

54

By the end of the 12th century, the chivalric ideology is then quite

sophisticated and demanding,

55

and to be qualified as ‘‘good knight’’ was the greatest

compliment, a compliment the princes of feudal Europe themselves anxiously
desired.

56

The main values praised are bravery, magnanimity, loyalty, courtesy – and

exclusion of arrogance, self-sufficiency and envy – protection given to the weak
and the helpless (and especially women without support), respect to the Church,
mercy with the wounded enemy (as long as he is a Christian) and the notion
of personal honour, honour of the lineage, a certain amount of reputation which
demands to be enhanced all the time, the strong belief in the moral superiority of
the nobility, the valorization of its unity, and the taste to show up.

57

Though

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L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

is fully in accordance with these ethics, other values

are indeed praised likewise, such as intelligence, shrewdness and caution, patience,
pragmatism and high concern for power and wealth of William, ‘‘the best knight of
the world’’. In my opinion, far too little attention has been given to these aspects of
the chivalric ethics.

Studying the ethics in the Icelandic saga literature, Maarten Cornelis van den

Toorn distinguishes three codes of ethical behaviour – the Ha´vama´l ethics, the heroic
one and the christian moral – appearing more or less strongly in the different Sagas
of Icelanders. This approach is highly convincing, close to the texts and showing
clearly the characteristics of each ethical code, but – as van den Toorn puts it –
without drawing ‘‘the boundary lines between these three too sharply, since we
must bear in mind that we are dealing with different strata, not different periods.’’

58

Caution, good sense, insight and ruse, a prudent sense of reality, the ability to
distinguish clearly between friends – deserving generosity – and foes – worth no
mercy – self-interest, pragmatism and opportunism, the high importance given to
life, to kinship, to reputation and to property: These are the main values praised by
the Ha´vama´l.

59

I will quote once more Maarten Cornelis van den Toorn: ‘‘[...] some

sagas show such a fundamental difference in this respect (their ethical contents) from
others, that we feel justified in distinguishing between them. Thus we should like to
group together Reykdoelasaga, Eyrbyggja saga, Heiðarvigasaga and Hønsna Þo´ressaga
since they all concur in showing Ha´vama´l ethics rather than heroic ethics.’’

60

Indeed,

Eyrbyggja saga

emphasizes the Ha´vama´l ethics, though without excluding the heroic

ones. And Snorri goði as described in Eyrbyggja saga incarnates very well the
Ha´vama´l

-like ethics while his opponent, Arnkell Þo´ro´lfsson, has the typical heroic

virtues, as bravery, prowess, generosity and this ‘‘lordly way to act’’ which values
more glory than own material profits, and he will get the typical heroic death,
preferring to defend himself alone against many to running away. While Arnkell is
having the author’s sympathy, as the narration of his last stand and the eulogy
proposed at the occasion of his death in particular attest,

61

Snorri is the one who

succeeded, the one who indeed gains the author’s admiration, the one chosen as the
main character of his narrative. Snorri and Arnkell represent two ethical types, two
models of behavior, both certainly perceived in the 13th century as characteristic of
the Saga Age.

These human ideals are representative of the 13th century’s reaction upon all the

political, social and cultural changes of the time. Indeed, society was changing rather
rapidly both in feudal Europe and in the North. When ‘‘the balance of power between
the king and the barons […] tipped decisively, and irreversibly, in favour of the
monarchy’’

62

and the bourgeoisie began to assert itself, the values of chivalry

assembled the nobility of feudal Europe. When the process of Europeanization of
Scandinavia became more intensive, when the Christian and the courteous values in
particular gained ground, the traditional ones – from the Ha´vama´l-like ethics to the
virtues exalted by the heroic poetry – were celebrated as a response to changes.
William and Snorri are for sure the incarnation of two different human ideals, but two
ethics which likewise praised action and success and were, first at all, opportunistic,
and – while perceiving the uniqueness of human being – emphasized an individual’s
belonging to a lineage.

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Conclusion: How do these two human ideals match?

On the one side, we find some frequently stressed virtues like Snorri’s cleverness and
William’s braveness and loyalty which are characteristic of their two respective
societies and of which some are valued higher than others. The Scandinavian author
narrates all of Snorri’s dealings in his striving for power; the panegyrist of chivalry
praises William’s valiance and his fidelity in particular, and affirms strongly what an
exemplary vassal he made. William was a warrior, thus he was bound to be
courageous. And, in fact, his social ascension could bring up some questions: Europe
feared treason because this would seriously undermine the stability of the feudal
pyramid, hence perfect loyalty was demanded of its heroes. The insistence upon
William’s integrity might aim at countering certain rumours.

63

In Iceland the

colonists and their descendants literally had to build up their future, and practical
thinking, common sense and wit were welcomed virtues; there was ‘‘room’’ for
ambitions, without immediately becoming a menace to the established order. In the
Sturlungar Age, Iceland was still a rural and oligarchical society, traditionally ruled by
some 40 local chiefs and – consequently to a succession of concentration of power –
then dominated by some five families fighting for power. This society of descendants
of pioneers, without a king and any central government and any police authority to
enforce law, lacking feudalism, traditionally offered to those individuals with qualities
above average all possibilities of advancement, even in challenging any authority.
From the Saga Age up to the end of the Commonwealth, the goðar constantly had been
competed for power, and the political authority of each of them had always been quite
precarious; the good fortune of one man and his family could rapidly and easily end
giving place to another one and his kinship. Indeed, the political, economical and
social parameters of that little land at the brink of Western Europe inevitably
encouraged struggling in ambitions, led to the admiration of prevailing and brought up
an attitude which valued a person’s individual characteristics and singularity, resulting
in less stereotyped and apparently more authentic descriptions. Within feudal society
instead, this layer system where everybody was supposed to remain on his innate
level, all praise always implied the superlative which preserved the hero of any too
evident particularity questioning the divine order. In the South, exceptional success
had to be justified as L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal attests by keeping on repeating
that William was a good vassal, honest and modest, and by using the adjective ‘‘loyal’’
as a Leitmotiv in order to try to give a legitimacy to William’s good fortune; a good
fortune presented as granted in reward for virtue and his fidelity to the Anglo-
Norman throne, granted to the one who rescued the Plantageneˆts’ monarchy. In
Iceland, when Eyrbyggja saga was written, though, untroubled admiration was still
legitimate, Christianization was still at a relatively early stage, modesty seemed like a
foreign habit, and success was the indisputable accomplishment of destiny as the
complaisant narration of Snorri’s numerous manipulations and unfair acts in order to
get power and wealth truly prove.

On the other side, there is a wide range of shared values: The importance and the

high esteem of family and ‘‘good descent’’, of nobility, of wealth, of power and
influence, of intelligence and intellect, of fame and reputation; a mentality which
treats vengeance as a moral right, which scorns here the villain and there the slave,
which considers marriage a business affair and political-military strategic device,
which seems to have an understanding of lineage as a body, maintaining the same

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virtues from generation to generation; a common sensibility towards appearance plus
the same expectation of vestimental social accuracy and, after all, the same admiration
for the successful one. These two works represent both a 13th century which –
likewise in Iceland and in feudal Europe – reads a person’s inner from its outer and an
era of undeniable pragmatism: sometimes bewildering, often underestimated.

We see two different men, two kinds of society, two genres of literature, various

peculiarities, but also many parallels. In addition there is a certain regret in both
works, a nostalgia for an undoubtedly better past, that of triumphant chivalry and that
of Iceland neither shaken by more and more destructive power struggles nor
endangered in its independence. Indeed, both to the chivalry and the proud Icelandic
goðar

the past could easily have appeared as a Golden Age, and I believe it actually did

so to the biographer of William and the narrator of Eyrbyggja saga. In feudal Europe,
chivalry began to be challenged on the battlefield by new methods of fighting, and its
political role progressively weakened at the princes’ courts. In Iceland – to follow Jo´n
Viðar Sigurðsson – after 1220, the Norwegian King began to play an increasingly
important role in the power struggles, and the chieftains sought his support in these
conflicts and had to pay by becoming his retainers, handing over to him the
chieftaincies they controlled; it was then merely a question of time before Iceland was
to become part of the Norwegian kingdom.

64

Both of these works were created in

honour of that very personality that shines upon his family line and of the ethics
incarnated. Faced with new ideas coming up and with political and social changes, the
people in the north and south of 13th-century Western Europe sought famous
ancestors

65

and timeless ideals. L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal is a homage to

chivalry and to its fundamental function in society. It praised the feudal order and the
nobility’s military function and asserted its traditional right to political authority.
William – as the narrator presents him – was the loyal support and the best counsellor
of the Anglo-Norman monarchy. Eyrbyggja saga, with Snorri as the major character, is
a homage to the traditional values: the ones supposed to have guided the settling
pioneers and the ones the author(s) of the Ha´vama´l praised. As the last chapter of
Eyrbyggja saga

emphasizes purposely, Snorri had succeeded and founded prestigious

descendancy. These two narratives are a response to the doubts and the questions of
this period. And, in spite of the fact that one of them is a chivalric panegyric
describing first at all the life of a professional warrior, while the other is a saga
narrating the life of a bo´ndi in a rural society ‘‘far away’’ from the feudal world while
deliberately not putting any real emphasis on Christian and courtly values, these two
works praise many of the same values. They do so despite the narration of quite
different events and actions which – as might be expected – do not promote the same
qualities.

Comparing the life of these two heroes, it is striking how complex the human

ideals of one epoch, even that of one cultural field, can be structured. And, after the
renaissance of the precedent century, a 13th-century medieval narrator could indeed
extend an initially stereotyped portrait of a character by assigning different aspects of
personality to him as he is facing the various challenges of life. In the course of this
three-level comparative approach of the personalities of Snorri and William, their
striving, their decisions, their individual patterns of behaviour (often encouraged by
turns of fate) and the settings of the world they lived in, the questions just keep
multiplying. And before long, the ‘‘chivalric model’’ and the ‘‘Icelandic model’’ show

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their limits: The Icelandic ethics were manifold and the chivalric system of rules of
conduct was more complex and more elastic and flexible – evolving through the
Middles Ages, adapting to circumstances and new challenges – than literature
generally has presented it and than history did believe until the last decades. What is
more, the chivalric code of ethics was indeed highly opportunistic, a code which knew
the very importance of shrewdness and caution, and praised first at all action and
personal success, power and wealth – as the Icelandic ethics did – despite the efforts
of the Church and some rather moralistic narrators such as Chre´tien de Troyes, to
promulgate more ‘‘gentle’’ values among the chivalry. It is the stereotyped image of
the chivalric ethics constructed through the centuries which could be in sharp contrast
with the Icelandic ones of the same period. One should recall, I believe, the Indo-
European heritage to understand a common set of values and more generally, a
mutual comprehension, and not disregard the importance of the ‘‘Germanic seeds’’ –
as Jean Flori calls it

66

– in the progressive formation of the chivalry and its ethics.

‘‘Christian rigour, forcing individuals to hold themselves in check and submit to their
Creator, so that their own identities might be lost in that of the Lord, had not yet
taken hold of the inner world of the Germanic people of the north’’

67

, and indeed,

the heathen ethos was also and still marking the chivalric mentalities, giving more
opportunities to the individual and valuing personal success. At last, one should
emphasize that in the 13th century, saga writers and European chroniclers were at this
stage sharing – mostly – the same culture and believing in the same one god. Yet they
did belong to two different cultural fields with a different past, and they lived in two
different societies with different traits. The human ideals belong to their age,
nourished by a range of influences, adapted to the circumstances and attuned to the
requirements of the present at any location differently.

Notes

1

In spite of this fact, it should not constitute a particular problem here as the
narrating author is in the first line someone who is thinking, analyzing and judging
from within his time frame, and his work is less reflecting the ideals his ancestors
held in mind rather than those which are guiding himself. This study is thus dealing
with the mentality of the 13th century in two different cultural fields.

2

Georges Duby, Guillaume le Mare´chal ou Le meilleur chevalier du monde, Collection
Folio/Histoire, Fayard (Paris, 1984).

3

Kristel Skorge Steen and Tor Einar Fagerland, Politisk mentalitet i middelalderen,
Det europeiske menneske. Individidoppfatninger fra middelalderen til i dag

, Sverre Bagge

(red.), Ad Notam Gyldendal AS (Oslo, 1998), pp. 78–105. Original quotation
(p. 89): ‘‘Man ma˚tte altsa˚ ha suksess i sine foretagender’’.

4

Jean Flori, La notion de Chevalerie dans les Chansons de Geste du XIIe sie`cle.
Etude historique du vocabulaire, Le Moyen Age, n

+

2, t. LXXXI (4

e

se´rie, t. XXX),

1975, pp. 211–244; Jean Flori, La notion de Chevalerie dans les Chansons de
Geste du XIIe sie`cle. Etude historique du vocabulaire (suite et fin), Le Moyen
Age

, n

˚

3–4, t. LXXXI (4

e

se´rie, t. XXX), 1975, pp. 407–445; Jean Flori,

Chevaliers et chevalerie au Moyen Age

, Hachette Litte´ratures (Paris, 1998);

Constance Brittain Bouchard: Strong of Body, Brave and Noble. Chivalry and Society
in Medieval France

, Cornell University Press (Ithaca and London, 1998).

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5

Theodore M. Andersson, The Icelandic Family Saga. An Analytic Reading, Harvard
University Press (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1967); Jean-Pierre Mabire, La
composition de la ‘‘Eyrbyggja saga’’

, Association des Publications de la Faculte´ des

Lettres et Sciences Humaines de l’Universite´ de Caen (1971); Helgi Þorla´ksson,
Snorri goði og Snorri Sturluson, Skı´rnir, 166.2 (1992), pp. 295–320; Elin Ba´ra
Magnu´sdo´ttir, Et samfunn preget av kaos. Presentasjon av Snorri goði og sagaens
samfunn i Eyrbyggja saga, Nordica Bergensia, 23 (2000), pp. 139–164.

6

Arne Odd Johnsen, Les relations intellectuelles entre la France et la Norve`ge
(1150–1214), Le Moyen Age, n

˚

1–2, t. LVII, (4

e

se´rie, t. VI), 1951, pp. 247–268;

Lars Lo¨nnroth, Tesen om de tva˚ kulturerna, Scripta Islandica, A˚rbok 15 (1964),
pp. 1–97; Lars Lo¨nnroth, Kroppen som sja¨lens spegel – ett motiv i de isla¨ndska
sagorna, Lychnos (1964), pp. 24–61; Lars Lo¨nnroth, European Sources of Icelandic
Saga-Writing. An Essay Based on Previous Studies

(Stockholm, 1965); Lars Lo¨nnroth,

Det littera¨ra portra¨ttet i latinsk historiografi och isla¨ndsk sagaskriving – en
komparativ studie, Acta Philologica Scandinavia, vol. 27, Munksgaard (Copenhagen,
1969), pp. 68–117; Mattias Tveitane, Europeisk pa˚virkning pa˚ den norrøne
sagalitteraturen. Noen synspunkter, Edda, vol. LXIX, 1969, pp. 73–95; Paul
Schach, Some Observations on the Influence of Tristams saga ok Iso¨ndar on Old
Icelandic Literature, Old Norse Literature and Mythology. A Symposium, ed. Edgar C.
Polome´, University of Texas Press (Austin and London, 1969), pp. 81–129; Knud
Togeby, L’influence de la litte´rature franc¸aise sur les litte´ratures scandinaves au
Moyen Age, Grundriß der romanischen Literaturen des Mittelalters, vol. I, Ge´ne´ralite´s,
B, ch. VI, e´d. C. Winter (Heidelberg, 1972), pp. 333–395.

7

I should also like to refer – although not being directly relevant for my present
study – to the following works: Joachim Bumke, Ho¨fische Kultur. Literatur und
Gesellschaft im hohen Mittelalter

, dtv (Mu¨nchen, 1986); Erich Auerbach, Mimesis.

Dargestellte Wirklichkeit in der abendla¨ndischen Kultur, Francke (Bern, 1946); Herman
Bengtsson, Den ho¨viska kulturen i Norden. En konsthistorisk underso¨king, Kungl.
Vitterhets Historie och Antikvitets Akademiens Handlingar, Antikvariska serien 43,
Almqvist & Wiksell (Stockholm, 1999).

8

This refers mainly to the works by: Jacques Le Goff (sous la direction de), L’homme
me´die´val

, L’Univers historique, Seuil, e´d. franc¸aise (Paris, 1989); Aaron J.

Gurevich, Persona. Towards the History of the Concept of Personality in the
Middle Ages, Culture and History, Scandinavian University Press (Oslo, 1994),
pp. 11–24; Aaron J. Gurevich, The Origins of European Individualism, translated
from Russian by Katharine Judelson, Blackwell (Oxford, Cambridge, 1995);
Sverre Bagge, Kingship and Individuality in Medieval Historiography, Culture and
History

, Scandinavian University Press (Oslo, 1994), pp. 25–41; Sverre Bagge

(red.), Det europeiske menneske. Individidoppfatninger fra middelalderen til i dag, Ad
Notam Gyldendal (Oslo, 1998).

9

Jo´n Viðar Sigurðsson, Chieftains and Power in the Icelandic Commonwealth, The Viking
Collection, vol. 12, Odense University Press (1999). Throughout this book, the
author studies the power of the chieftains – and its different aspects – from the
Saga Age up to the end of the Commonwealth and confirms the local authority of
the chieftains already in the Saga Age though he records the concentration of power
of the later time.

10

Andersson, op. cit. (1967), p. 161.

11

Editions used for this study: Eyrbyggja saga, Einar O

´ l. Sveinsson og Matthı´as

Þo´rðarson ga´fu u´t, I´slenzk Fornrit, vol. IV (Reykjavı´k, 1935), pp. 3–184; L’Histoire

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de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, e´dition et pre´sentation (et traduction abre´ge´e) Paul

Meyer, pour la Socie´te´ de L’Histoire de France (Paris, 3 volumes, 1891, 1894 et
1901). All quotations given are taken from these editions. References will be stated
abridged as follows: (The two heroes – a physical portrait) Eyrbyggja saga, ch. XV;
L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 715–736.

12

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. LXV.

13

Duby, op. cit. (1984), pp. 36–37: ‘‘En ce temps s’attachait au noir, obstine´ment,
l’ide´e de pe´che´, de mise`re.’’ All English translations are my own if not stated
otherwise.

14

Lo¨nnroth, op. cit. (1969), pp. 93–94 in particular. The same topic is being treated
by Lo¨nnroth in another article, op. cit. (Lychnos, 1964), pp. 33–34 in particular.

15

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, quoted from the passage describing the hero’s

physics: verse 715–736.

16

Lars Lo¨nnroth, Nja´ls saga. A critical introduction, University of California Press
(Berkeley, Los Angeles, London, 1976), ‘‘The travel pattern’’, pp. 71–76.

17

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. XIII: ‘‘ho¨fðu menn þat mjo¨k at hla´tri um bu´nað hans’’.

18

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 780: ‘‘gaste-viande’’ (lit. ‘‘waste of

meat’’).

19

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. XV: ‘‘hann var ho´gværr hversdagliga; fann lı´tt a´ honum, hva´rt

honum þo´tti vel eða illa’’; L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal, verse 802: ‘‘duz’’ and
‘‘deboneire’’.

20

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. XV: ‘‘hann gerðisk þa´ ho¨fðingi mikill, en rı´ki hans var mjo¨k

o¨fundsamt’’.

21

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 1665: ‘‘molt fu del vengier angoissos’’.

22

Duby, op. cit. (1984), pp. 97–98: ‘‘de la familiarite´ de son oncle, cet e´ve´nement
fortuit le transfe´rait dans la familiarite´ du souverain’’.

23

In particular, William is accused of using contemptible tricks in order to win in
tournaments and to be the lover of young King Henry’s wife. He will have to live
several months in exile before being declared innocent of the charges. Later, King
John will suspect him of disloyalty. On his deathbed, the prince will finally praise
William’s loyalty and choose him for taking in charge his young son Henry.
L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 5127–5254, 6459–6580, 13028, 13384

and 15167–15190.

24

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 14102: ‘‘bien vit ses avantaiges’’.

25

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 18483–18488.

26

Lo¨nnroth, op. cit. (1976), p. 63. Lo¨nnroth is specifying ten roles or personality
profiles in the sagas, for one of which – speaking of the ‘‘Wise Counselor’’ in
general terms – he emphasizes the mysterious aspect, quoting among others the
case of Snorri.

27

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. XV: ‘‘hann var [...] forspa´r um marga hluti’’.

28

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 17098.

29

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. XXVIII: ‘‘var Snorri goði ra´ðagørðarmaðr meiri og vitari, en

Styrr atgo¨ngumeiri’’.

30

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. XXVIII: ‘‘var þat ma´l manna, at hva´rrtveggja þo´tti vaxa af

þessum tengðum’’.

31

Duby, op. cit. (1984), pp. 153–155.

32

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. LXV: ‘‘Þat b

œ

tti um vinsældir, at hann batt tengðir við in mestu

sto´rmenni ı´ Breiðafirði ok viðar annars staðar’’.

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33

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 13338–13339: ‘‘Qui trop perechos ne fu

unques/De son pru & de s’enor faire’’.

34

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 14930–14932: ‘‘a treis filz de contes/

Dona les treis bien enpleie´es; /Ne furent pas desparagie´es.’’

35

Duby, op. cit. (1984), pp. 164–167. Duby is here treating the marriage politics of
the great lineages (including that of William): In marrying off their children they
intended to assure support and preserve peace. Daughters were given to the
highest-ranking husband available, but for sons the privilege to marry was reserved
to the eldest who was to succeed his father, while the younger ones usually had to
remain ordinary knights.

36

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 13347–13348: ‘‘Bien fu seanz li marı¨ages,

/Si en fu bel a lor lingnages.’’

37

The importance of William’s exceptional longevity for his career is notably
emphasized by Duby, op. cit. (1984), pp. 185–186.

38

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. LVI.

39

Laxd

œ

la saga

, ch. LVI.

40

Helgi Þorla´ksson, op. cit. (1992), p. 298.

41

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. LVI: ‘‘Þetta sumar to´k Þorsteinn o´r Hafsfjarðarey

Rauðmelingagoðorð o´r Þo´rnessþingi, þvı´ at hann þo´ttisk þar aflavani orðit hafa
fyrir Snorrungum; to´ku þeir frændr þa´ upp þing ı´ Straumfirði ok heldu þat lengi
sı´ðan.’’

42

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. LIX-LXII. About the importance of resolving conflicts for a

chieftain: ‘‘Heraðsho¨fðingi alludes to the authority of the chieftains, notably to the
part they play in the resolution of conflicts’’ in the introduction of part ‘‘The social
power of the chieftains’’ and the chapter ‘‘Chieftains and the resolution of
conflicts’’: Jo´n Viðar Sigurðsson, op. cit. (1999), pp. 151–185 (quotation p. 151).

43

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. LXV: ‘‘En er Snorri to´k at eldask, þa´ to´ku at vaxa vinsældir

hans, ok bar þat til þess, at þa´ fækkuðusk o¨fundarmenn hans.’’

44

Andersson, op. cit. (1967), p. 161.

45

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 19169–19196; Duby, op. cit. (1984),

pp. 40–46.

46

Einar O

´ l. Sveinsson, Eyrbyggja sagas kilder, Scripta Islandica, A˚rsbok 19 (1968),

pp. 3–18; Mabire, op. cit. (1971), pp. 31–40.

47

Sophie A. Krijn, Snorri goði, Neophilologus, 12 (1927), pp. 284–291.

48

Helgi Þorla´ksson, op. cit. (1992), pp. 301–302 in particular.

49

Elin Ba´ra Magnu´sdo´ttir, op. cit. (2000), p. 163 and p. 164: ‘‘en uvanlig helt i en
uvanlig islendingesaga.’’

50

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 15687–15696.

51

L’Histoire de Guillaume le Mare´chal

, verse 19107–19164.

52

Duby, op. cit. (1984), pp. 185–186.

53

Brittain Bouchard, op. cit. (1998), pp. 103–144 (citation: pp. 143–144).

54

As Jean Flori puts it: ‘‘Du XIe au XVe sie`cle, la chevalerie a e´labore´ sous diverses
influences un code de conduite que l’on peut appeler l’e´thique chevaleresque.
(From the 11th century up to the 15th century, the chivalry has, under different
influences, elaborated a code of behaviors that we can call the chivalric ethics.)’’.
Flori, op. cit. (1998), p. 153.

55

After having shown the complexity of the chivalric ethics – meaning that it was also
inherently contradictory – Constance Brittain Bouchard concluded ‘‘it should not
be surprising that for a large number of young knights of the High Middle Ages, the

SNORRI GOÐI AND WILLIAM MARSHAL

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only answer was to renounce it all and join a monastery, where the answers were
in some ways harsher but at least there were fewer questions’’. Brittain Bouchard,
op. cit. (1998), pp. 175–176.

56

After studying some 25 works from the medieval French speaking domain (from
1300–1500) during my maıˆtrise (master) and Diploˆme d’Etudes Approfondies and
doctorate, I can attest the extreme valorization of the chivalry and its ethics. And
‘‘bon chevalier’’ – expressing the necessary qualities of a good warrior, but also
referring implicitly more and more clearly during the 13th century to a substantial
code of behavior – is one of the most frequent qualities included in eulogies and
portraits and qualifying the princes themselves. I refer in particular to my doctoral
thesis: La description des hommes dans quelques

œ

uvres a` caracte`re historique au XIIIe sie`cle:

e´tude comparative de l’ide´al humain, domaine europe´en et domaine scandinave

, ANRT

(Lille, 2004), pp. 53–59, pp. 168–215 and pp. 458–473.

57

Flori, op. cit. (1998), pp. 153–176 and pp. 224–266.

58

M. C. van den Toorn, Ethics and Moral in Icelandic Saga Literature, Van Gorcum,
Hak & Prakke (Assen, 1955), p. 135.

59

And more precisely ‘‘the old kernel 1–80, the interpolations known as the O

´ din-

exempla

, and the Loddfa´fnisma´l’’, van den Toorn, op. cit. (1955), p. 23. Also ch. IV:

‘‘Ha´vama´l ethics in the saga’’, pp. 49–84.

60

van den Toorn, op. cit. (1955), p. 147.

61

Eyrbyggja saga

, ch. XXXVII. Apropos this praising epitath, it is important to note,

as Ve´steinn O

´ lason does, that it is not included in all the Eyrbyggja saga’s

manuscripts and could be a passage supplied by a later scribe: Ve´steinn O

´ lason,

Dialogues with the Viking Age. Narration and Representation in the Sagas of Icelanders

,

Heimskringla (Reykjavı´k, 1998), pp. 103–104. Anyhow, as he is depicted through
the saga, Arnkell has obviously the author’s sympathy.

62

G. M. Spiegel, Romancing the Past. The Rise of Vernacular Prose Historiography in
Thirteenth-Century France

, University of California Press (Berkeley, Los Angeles,

London, 1993), pp. 14–15.

63

Duby, op. cit. (1984), p. 48: ‘‘[…] s’il paraissait ne´cessaire, apre`s 1219, d’insister
autant sur la loyaute´ de Guillaume […] n’e´tait-ce pas qu’il e´tait urgent d’e´touffer
des rumeurs de fe´lonie?’’ (‘‘[…] if it appeared so necessary, after 1219, to insist so
much upon William’s loyalty […] wasn’t it so that it was urgent to hush up some
rumours of treason?’’

64

Jo´n Viðar Sigurðsson, op. cit. (1999), pp. 208–209.

65

Several scholars believed that Eyrbyggja saga was written in the Sturlungar’s circle.
Among them: Mabire, op. cit. (1971), pp. 42–43; Preben Meulengracht Sørensen,
Saga og samfund. En indføring i oldislandsk litteratur

, Berlingske Forlag (København,

1977), pp. 82–83. And as for the Sturlungar, Snorri goði and Egill Skallagrı´msson
alike were indeed great ancestors.

66

Flori, op. cit. (1998), pp. 11–28 (Ch. I: ‘‘Terreau romain et semences
germaniques III

e

–VI

e

sie`cle)’’.

67

Gurevich, op. cit. (1995), p. 251.

Liliane Irlenbusch-Reynard, born 1958, doc. fil. from Paris IV-Sorbonne (France), was

post-doctoral fellow, Department of History, University of Bergen (Norway) from 2002–

2004. Her research deals especially – in a comparative perspective – with 13th-century

history and literature from Scandinavia and feudal Europe, which results in several

68

SCANDINAVIAN JOURNAL OF HISTORY

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presentations at international conferences and articles (in Historisk tidsskrift , Norway,

bind 83, no 2, 2004; and Herzort Island – Beitra¨ge zur isla¨ndischen Literatur- und
Kulturgeschichte, ed. Thomas Seiler, Ko¨ln, 2005 ). Address: A

˚ stadveien 5 C, NO-1396

Billingstad, Norway. [e-mail: [e-mail]]

SNORRI GOÐI AND WILLIAM MARSHAL

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