imprecation with an appeal to Flosiâs sense of honour: âIn the name
of God and all good men I charge you, by all the powers of your Christ and by your
courage and manliness, to avenge all the wounds which he received in dying â
or else be an object of contempt to all menâ (Ch. 116). A few lines after Njal
spoke the words of Christian comfort quoted above, he declines an offer of free exit
from the burning house with these words: âI will not leave, for Iâm
an old man and hardly fit to avenge my sons, and I do not want to live in
shame.â It may be that in such conflations of Christian language and the code
of honour we see best how Christianity functions in this saga â not as
antithetical to pagan values but as complementary. Christianity did not at first condemn
the blood feud, and the noblest pagan virtues were consonant with Christian values.
There is a clear Christian presence in the saga, but the question is, does
it change anything? It has become common to regard the Conversion episode in Chapters
100â105 as marking a turning-point in the moral structure of the saga, whereby
the older, pagan ethic of heroism and pride is replaced by a new Christian ethic of
mildness and peace. Such a view is based on a false opposition between pagan and
Christian; it overlooks the fact that there are other pagan virtues than heroism and
pride, and that humility and a willingness to make peace are among them. Christianity
does not affect the values already existing in the saga, in Gunnarâs and
Njalâs moderation and love of peace, or in the young Hoskuldâs
willingness to be content with the compensation paid for his father (Ch. 94). Those
values were there before the Conversion, and continue after it, though set in a changed
historical context. A Christian reading would have to judge Flosiâs burning of
Bergthorshvol as a sin in the light of the martyrâs death suffered by Njal.
The saga, however, treats the burning as a necessary but regrettable deed, and Flosi
emerges from it with honour. Nor does the coming of Christianity have any direct effect
on the course of events. The Christian elements in the saga are part of its historical
realism, of its rhetoric. After the Conversion in the year 1000 people are made to think
and speak in religious terms, and there is a new spirit in the land, but the events of
the saga follow their own course, quite unaffected by it.
The claim has also been made that it is their
pilgrimages to Rome and the absolution they received there that enable Kari and Flosi to
become reconciled at the end of the saga. The reconciliation comes
after
the
pilgrimages, to be sure, but it does not come
because of
them. The
reconciliation results from full and sufficient blood revenge, sheer exhaustion and the
mutual respect these two good men have long had for each other. The feud, the longest
and deadliest in any of the sagas, has simply run its course. What Kari demonstrates is
not the value of Christian absolution, but that the only way to end a feud for once and
for all is to carry out total vengeance.
The thirteenth-century author
of Njalâs Saga
was a
Christian, looking back with respect at his pagan forebears and the time when
Christianity came to his country. He is not preaching a sermon, nor writing a
theological treatise, for he knows that the two systems are in many ways compatible. His
characters may convert, and acquire Christian rhetoric, but they do not change their
nature. Njal is the same man after the Conversion as before, and Hall and Hoskuld would
have been the same as they are had there been no Conversion.
Njalâs
Saga
is secular literature.
THE TWO PARTS
Finally, a consideration of parallels and contrasts between the two main
parts of the saga, Gunnarâs story and Njalâs story, may help to
clarify the shape of the saga. In both