Among the many arguments that have recently been advanced in support of imperialistic ambitions and statesmanship, there is one that justifies and demands aggression in the interest of human culture. According to this rather plausible political philosophy, it is the destiny of the smaller states to be absorbed into the larger and stronger. The application is not to be limited to the so-called “backward races”; it is also extended to the lesser peoples of Europe. These have, it is held, no real right to an independent existence; only the great, the powerful, and the mighty can claim this privilege, for they alone are able to render the higher forms of service to civilization.

To this theory the history of the Scandinavian lands provides a complete and striking refutation. In the drama of European development the Northern countries have played important and honorable parts; but except for a brilliant period in Swedish history (chiefly during the seventeenth century) they have never weighed heavily in the Continental balance. Their geographical situation is unfavorable and their economic resources have never been comparable to those of the more prominent states beyond the Baltic and the North Sea. But when we come to the kingdom of intellect the story is a totally different one. The literary annals of Europe in the nineteenth century give prominence to a series of notable Scandinavian writers who not only achieved recognition in their own lands but found a place in the competition for leadership in the world at large. The productivity of the Northern mind is not of recent origin, however; the literatures of Scandinavia have a history that leads back into the days of heathen worship more than a thousand years ago.

Perhaps the most effective illustration of what a fruitful intellect can accomplish even when placed in the most unpromising environment is medieval Iceland. Along the western and southwestern coasts of the island lay a straggling settlement of Norwegian immigrants whose lives were spent chiefly in a struggle to force the merest subsistence from a niggardly soil. And yet, in the later middle ages and even earlier, there was a literary activity on these Arctic shores which, in output as well as in quality, compares favorably with that of any part of contemporary Europe. Evidently intellectual greatness bears but slight relation to economic advantages or political power. What was true of Iceland was also true of Norway, though in a lesser degree. In that country, too, life was in great measure a continuous struggle with the soil and the sea. Still, even in that land and age, the spirits were active, the arts flourished, and the North added her contribution to the treasures of European culture.

The poems and tales of those virile days, the eddas and sagas, are too familiar to need more than a mention in this connection. But the fact is not so commonly known that the medieval Northmen were thinkers and students as well as poets and romancers. They, too, were interested in the mysteries of the universe, in the problems of science, and in the intricate questions of social relationships. In their thinking on these matters they showed more intellectual independence and less slavish regard for venerable authority than was usually the case among medieval writers. And of all the men who in that age of faith tried to analyse and set in order their ideas of the world in which they moved, perhaps none drew more largely on his own spiritual resources than the unknown author of the King’s Mirror.

Unlike the sagas and related writings, the purpose of the King’s Mirror is utilitarian and didactic. The author has before him a group of serious and important problems, which he proceeds to discuss for the instruction of his readers. Consequently, certain qualities of style that are often associated with Old Norse literature are not apparent in his work to any marked degree. In his effort to make his language clear, definite, and intelligible, the author sometimes finds it necessary to repeat and restate his ideas, with the result that his literary style is frequently stiff, labored, and pedantic. These defects are, however, not characteristic of the book as a whole. Many of its chapters display rare workmanship and prove that the author of the King’s Mirror is one of the great masters of Old Norse prose.

In preparing the translation of this unique work, my aim has been to reproduce the author’s thought as faithfully as possible and to state it in such a form as to satisfy the laws of English syntax. But I have also felt that, so far as it can be done, the flavor of the original should be retained and that a translator, in his effort to satisfy certain conventional demands of modern composition, should not deviate too far from the path of mental habit that the author has beaten in his roamings through the fields of thought. Peculiarities of style and expression, can, it is true, usually not be reproduced in another language; at the same time it is possible to ignore these considerations to such an extent that the product becomes a paraphrase rather than a translation; and I have believed that such a rendition should be avoided, even at the risk of erring on the side of literalness.

The importance of the King’s Mirror as a source of information in the study of medieval thought was first brought to my attention by Professor Julius E. Olson of the University of Wisconsin, who has also, since the work of preparing this edition was begun, followed its progress with helpful interest. Professors G. T. Flom and A. H. Lybyer of the University of Illinois, and Professor W. H. Schofield of Harvard University, have read the manuscript in whole or part and have contributed many valuable suggestions. My wife, Lillian May Larson, has assisted in a great variety of ways, as in all my work. Dr. H. G. Leach of the American-Scandinavian Foundation has read the proof sheets of the entire volume and has suggested many improvements in the text. To all these persons I wish to express my thanks. I am also deeply indebted to the trustees of the American-Scandinavian Foundation whose generosity has made it possible to publish the work at this time.