The Icelandic Canadian - 01.03.1968, Blaðsíða 36

34
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
Spring 1968
and Holi in Horgardal, where I often
visited my grandparents. The name
of Matthias was always mentioned with
great reverence and gossip rumors
were always discounted. Certainly
“stuffed-shirt citizens” and miserly
penny pinchers could not by any
means understand a man like Matthias
who saw no significance in material
gain. This quality in his character was
vividly displayed when once he met a
wealthy farmer on the street and
handed him one crown. The farmer
was surprised When Matthias said,
“Yes, take it. It may do you some
good.” Perhaps he thought the farmer
might know better than himself as
to how to handle the money. He had
thus relieved himself of his last
crown. Could anyone give more?
Late one evening he entered the
room of two young men who were
tenants in his house. On their table
he placed several letters lacking pos-
tage stamps. He asked one of the men
to buy postage stamps for these letters
and take them to the mail-carrying
ship which was about to leave port.
At the same time he “plunked down”
on the table twenty-five aurar and
said, “You will please do this for me
my dear friend, and you may keep the
change”.
During the early part of his stay at
Akureyri Matthias found that a few
residents were antagonistic towards
him. This was to be expected because
these people could neither understand
him as a person nor his high-level
dream world. In many ways they tried
to belittle him, but their efforts at
this were ignored by all my close ac-
quaintances. In my mind there was no
blurring cloud. How he fared as a min-
ister of the Gospel, I was not fully
aware, but it was rumored that in his
pulpit the orthodox dogma did not
predominate. On the other hand, his
hymns and poems in general were
highly accepted and thus he came to
conquer the hearts of his fellow men.
While still a child I saw Rev. Mat-
thias on tire street in Akureyri as he
was engaged in his habitual humming
of a melodyless mumbling. I recog-
nized him immediately without being
told who he was. He was a heavy set
man with strong features and this as-
sured me that his picture on the cover
of his book did not present a true
likeness. I stood there gazing at him
and looking forward to telling my folks
about having seen him.
While I was attending High School
in Akureyri, I saw Matthias many
times as he walked along the street.
At such moments a peculiar sensation
gripped me, as if I had suddenly been
confronted with a towering mountain.
It was not to be expected that we
would follow the same path, I being
a bashful student only fifteen years of
age and he being the number one na-
tional poet, close to eighty years old.
I was, at the time, living in an attic in
die less prominent part of town and
he was living at SigurhaeSir. Occasion-
ally he would recite poems for the
students in the school auditorium. He
claimed it was proper that the poets
should read or deliver their own poems
to give them full expression and mean-
ingful emotion. It was the opinion
of several others, however, that others
would be better suited for delivery of
his poems. Sometimes he would
mumble as if he were talking to him-
self and this resulted in much mirth on
the part of the smart alecks.
At one time I was very proud of
myself for receiving the honor of being-
chosen, along with two other students,
to pay a visit to Sigurhaedir. One of
us had been assigned the duty of ap-
proaching him about giving a talk at
a festive occasion at the school. We
were all attired in our best suits these
having first been thoroughly brushed