Árbók Landsbókasafns Íslands - Nýr flokkur - 01.01.1991, Blaðsíða 89

GEORGE WEBBE DASENT
89
criticism upon what I may have written, or on what I may hereafter
write.
There are two further testimonies to the genesis and reception
of The Story of Burnt Njal; first, an extant letter (in Lbs. MS 1839a
4to) from Dasent to the Danish ambassador in London, Torben
Bille, offers fulsome formal thanks for a newly arrived gift (a
lavishly decorated drinking horn) from Copenhagen, a token of
recognition for Dasent’s memorable translation of Njála. Dasent
had been a member of London’s exclusive Athenæum Club since
1854 and this was one occasion when the club’s prestigious headed
notepaper was put to good use.
Feby 4 1862. Dear M. de Bille. Your excellency must not think
me ungracious because I have let a day go by before answering
your letter which reached me yesterday together with the splendid
gift sent to me through you by my friends in Iceland and
Denmark. Indeed I know not which to admire more, the costly
horn or your ílattering letter: but this I know that I am utterly
unworthy of both. It is true that I have worked for years at the
language & literature of the North, but it has been for my own
pleasure; the work itself has been my exceeding great reward, &
has strengthened & comforted me in the midst of other labours,
often of the most distasteful kind. How then can I deem myself at
all entitled to such a gift & such a letter, especially when I feel that
the little I have done might have been better done by better men?
... for the Horn, let me say that I think it a true work of art. In olden
times it would have been called dyrgripi & gersimi, a thing of price, a
treasure. Here in England nowadays, we could do nothing like it. I
am fully aware of the hidden meaning which the excellent artist
who designed it has conveyed to those who look rightly at this
masterpiece. When the watchful warden blows his horn, & when
the wakeful cock crows, when the sturdy seaman who supports the
insignia of Denmark strains his eyes on the look out, & when the
crowned Lion of the North rouses himself - Then we may trust
that the old Northern heart will harden itself for deeds of high
emprise, & the stout arm nerve itself to smite down foe after foe.
Nor are lines from Havamal lost on me. Verily there is always a
short cut to the heart of a good friend, & my Northern friends
have found one to mine; now allow me to end this poor letter by
some more lines from the same grand old song: