From a European perspective, the myth of paradise goes back well over 3,000 years, and probably has its roots in the biblical concept of the Garden of Eden.
In Genesis 2:8 the site of the Garden of Eden, miqqedem, is usually translated as meaning “in the East,” which many early people understood to mean that Eden was in Mesopotamia. However, the phrase could also be translated, “from of old,” as in Psalms 77:6, 12; 78:12; 143:5 and Proverbs 8:22–23. The confusion over whether miqqedem had a temporal meaning rather than a geographical one led to some interesting historical problems. Many people longed to find Eden. But if you were searching for Eden, which way did you go? East or west?
The book of Genesis added to this confusion because, “In Genesis 2-11 the Yahwist depicts the movement of primeval humanity in an easterly direction from the garden (Gen 3:24; 4:16; 11:2). This movement is reversed in Gen 12:4 when Abraham begins his journey westward from Haran to Canaan. It is possible that the Yahwist does not place Eden in Mesopotamia but somewhere W (west) of that land, allowing for an easterly migration after the expulsion.”4
How do we know Eirikr was familiar with the story of the Land of the White Men? Because everyone around him was.
Irish hermits steeped in the lore of Tir na bhFear bhFionn were the first inhabitants of Iceland, arriving there perhaps as early as A.D. 795.5 Keep in mind that Irish Christendom was heavily influenced by the eremitical traditions of Christians in Asia Minor and Egypt, the early heart of the monastic movement, which placed great value on the virtue of solitude as a kind of penitential exile. It “drove its adherents to live on isolated rocks off the Irish coast or make long voyages in the North Atlantic. They used a simple boat made of skins stretched over a wooden framework, the so-called curach (a word related to Latin corium, ‘skin’).”6
This powerful need to seek salvation through exile sent devout Irish monks in search of lonely outposts where they could diligently seek God. The Norse called these hermits papar and said they preferred the symbol of the anchor, for the Fisherman, to that of the cross. Hence, they were also known as anchorites.
Ari the Wise mentions anchorites in his Íslendingabók, written sometime between 1122 and 1133, and says that when Norsemen first arrived in Iceland, they found Irish monks already living there, but the monks left because they would not stay in the presence of heathens. In his excellent study The Conversion of Iceland, Strömbäck writes that monks who refused to be persecuted or to live with heathens, “once more set sail over the wide ocean, perhaps seeking fresh isolation in Greenland or perhaps setting course to the south, back to the lands they had left.” We would add, here, that they may also have set their sights farther west, on the shores of North America; hence we have the story of St. Brendan and his legendary visit to America.
And we know for certain that Celts were present on the earliest Norse voyages.
Ancient vellum manuscripts called The Book of Settlements record the presence of anchorites on the North Atlantic journeys. There are five extant versions of this book, the oldest of which is the Sturlubók, translated by Sturla Thordarson between A.D. 1275 and 1280. The Sturlubók records that among those with Eirikr the Red on the journey to Greenland in A.D. 985 or 986 was an anchorite from the Hebrides. As well, The Saga of Eirikr the Red documents that on Karlsefni’s journey to North America in 1003, he carried anchorite slaves from Scotland.
But probably all of the Christian colonists who traveled to Greenland during the tenth century were well-versed in the story of the Land of the White Men. Some of these colonists were Norse, but many of the settlers in the Breidafjord area of western Iceland, where Eirikr Raudi lived, were of Gaelic or British descent. How do we know? Anthropological genetics. DNA studies of modern Icelanders show that they have “a significant amount of Celtic ancestry, perhaps as much as 10 to 20%.” Even more significant, while 75% of male ancestors of Icelanders came from Scandinavia, “the proportion of female ancestors from Scandinavia was only 37.5%. Most of the women, then, who settled in Iceland in the ninth and tenth centuries were from the Celtic parts of the British Isles.”7
As well, the linguistic and oral history of Iceland demonstrates a strong “Celtic strain in Icelandic language, making one wonder whether Celtic literary tradition may be partly responsible for Icelanders’ prodigious creation of stories and sagas, which were probably not part of their Norwegian heritage. Icelandic language, as well, is closer to the Old Norse of Viking times than any other Nordic language, partly as a result of geographic isolation.”8
But what was Tir na BhFear BhFionn, Hvitramannaland, Albania-land? The Land of the White Men was a magical place that resided at the distant edges of the ocean, a paradise made manifest in an earthly geographical region, supposedly filled with strange creatures and bursting with animals, grapevines, forests, and unending happiness.
Celts had two terms for it. They either called it Tir na bhFear bhFionn or Irland hid mikla, Greater Ireland.
According to the Landnámabók, The Book of Settlements, Ari Marsson sighted it in A.D. 982 or 983 by sailing six days west of Ireland:
Their son was Ari, who drifted to White Men’s Land, which some people call Greater Ireland. It lies in the ocean to westward, near Vinland the Good, said to be a six-day sail west from Ireland. Ari couldn’t get away and was baptized there. This story was first told by Hrafn Limerick-Farer, who spent a long time at Limerick in Ireland. Thorkel Gellisson said some Icelanders got the story from Earl Thorfinn of Orkney, who said that Ari had been recognized in White Man’s Land, and couldn’t get away from there. … 9
Interestingly, this last feature of the story, that Ari couldn’t get away, bears a striking resemblance to Norse descriptions of the Fields of the Undying, the Odainsvellir. Once a person reached the mythical paradise of Odainsvellir, he could not return to this mundane world.
In Eiriks saga rauda, The Saga of Eirikr the Red, the Land of the White Men is mentioned in Thorfinn Karlsefni’s story about his visits to Vinland and Markland, which took place around A.D. 1006 or 1007:
Now, when they sailed from Vinland, they had a southern wind, and reached Markland (Labrador) and found five Skraelingar (aboriginal Americans); one was a bearded man, two were women, two children. Karlsefni’s people caught the children, but the others escaped and sunk down into the earth. And they took the children with them. …They (the kidnapped children) said, moreover, that there was a land lying on the other side of their country, and the people there dressed in white garments, uttered loud cries, bore long poles, and wore fringes. This was supposed to be Hvitramannaland (the Land of the White Men). Then they came to Greenland and remained with Eirikr Raudi during the winter.
Where they, no doubt, told him their tales about the location of the legendary Hvitramannaland.
By the 1500s, maps even existed of this mythical paradise:
Sir Erlend Thordsson had received from abroad a geographical map of this Albania, or land of the white men. Which is located across from Vinland the Good, and which was formerly called by merchants great Ireland. …10
Other mariners also documented its location.
The Eyrbyggja Saga details the difficult journey of Gudleif Gudlaugson around A.D. 1029. Gudleif was trying to sail from Dublin to Iceland, but was driven off course and out into the open sea, where he and his crew became lost. When they finally sighted land, they had no idea where they were. Then the local inhabitants came to meet them, and the Norse (appropriately) thought they were speaking Irish. Greater Ireland and the Land of the White Men seem to always have been associated with the same place, paradise. So it especially surprised Gudleif when the natives attacked and captured his entire crew and marched them inland to a court to be tried and sentenced. The saga does not tell us what crime they had committed, but the experience of Jacques Cartier on July 24, 1534, may give us a clue.
Captain Cartier and his crew entered Gaspe Harbour on an overcast foggy day, a typical summer day. He met the native inhabitants and presented them with gifts as a gesture of goodwill. A few days later, Cartier ordered a group of French sailors to erect a thirty-foot cross on the shore; then they returned to their ship. Shortly thereafter a canoe of four natives paddled out to their vessel to speak with Cartier. The chief’s name was Donnacona. This is the official account of that first meeting:
… pointing to the cross he made us a long harangue, making the sign of the cross with two of his fingers; and then he pointed to the land all around about, as if he wished to say that all this region belonged to him, and that we ought not to have set up this cross without his permission.11
Therefore, earlier native peoples may have also had an issue with “trespass.” Now let’s return to A.D. 1029 and the Eyrbyggja Saga. Gudleif Gudlaugson was stunned when he and his crew were saved by the arrival of a Norseman speaking Icelandic, who seemed to have a leadership position among the native people. The man, who refused to give his name, asked many questions about Breidajord and Borgarfjord in Iceland, and presented Gudleif with items to take back to Iceland to give to certain people. Gudleif assumed the man was Bjorn the Breidavik-Champion, who had been exiled thirty years before.12
If we can believe the story, Bjorn the Breidavik-Champion arrived in the Land of the White Men around the year A.D. 999.
It’s understandable why he sought out the Land of the White Men: The legend promised spectacular things. But why did he stay? Let’s take a more detailed look at the legend of the Land of the White Men. Specifically, who were the magical “White Men”?