“The Devil of Hjalta-stad,” Iceland: An 18th Century ‘Talking Poltergeist’ Case

 

In addition to “Donald Ban and the Bocan,” Andrew Lang provided details in The Book of Dreams and Ghosts about an Icelandic predecessor to the ‘talking poltergeist’ cases I had researched during the first half of the 1990s.  Lang cited his source: “John Arnason, in his Icelandic Folklore and Fairy Tales (vol. I., p. 309), gives an account of this as written by the Sheriff Hans Wium in a letter to Bishop Haldorr Brynjolfsson in the autumn of 1750.” 

The sheriff writes: “The Devil at Hjalta-stad was outspoken enough this past winter, although no one saw him.  I, along with others, had the dishonour to hear him talking for nearly two days, during which he addressed myself and the minister, Sir Grim, with words the like of which ‘eye hath not seen nor ear heard.’  As soon as we reached the front of the house there was heard in the door an iron voice saying: ‘So Hans from Eyrar is come now, and wishes to talk with me, the ------ idiot.’  Compared with other names that he gave me this might be considered as flattering.  When I inquired who it was that addressed me with such words, he answered in a fierce voice, ‘I was called Lucifer at first, but now I am called Devil and Enemy.’  He threw at us both stones and pieces of wood, as well as other things, and broke two windows in the minister’s room.  He spoke so close to us that he seemed to be just at our side.  There was an old woman there of the name of Opia, whom he called his wife, and a ‘heavenly blessed soul,’ and asked Sir Grim to marry them, with various remarks of this kind, which I will not recount.

“I have little liking to write about his ongoings, which were all disgraceful and shameful, in accordance with the nature of the actor.  He repeated the ‘Pater Noster’ three times, answered questions from the Catechism and the Bible, said that the devils held service in hell, and told what texts and psalms they had for various occasions.  He asked us to give him some of the food we had, and a drink of tea, etc.  I asked the fellow whether God was good.  He said, ‘Yes.’  Whether he was truthful.  He answered, ‘Not one of his words can be doubted.’  Sir Grim asked him whether the devil was good-looking.  He answered: ‘He is far better-looking than you, you ------ ugly snout!’  I asked him whether the devils agreed well with each other.  He answered in a kind of sobbing voice: ‘It is painful to know that they never have peace.’  I bade him say something to me in German, and said to him Lass uns Teusc redre (sic), but he answered as if he had misunderstood me.

“When we went to bed in the evening he shouted fiercely in the middle of the floor, ‘On this night I shall snatch you off to hell, and you shall not rise up out of bed as you lay down.’  During the evening he wished the minister’s wife good-night.  The minister and I continued to talk with him during the night; among other things we asked him what kind of weather it was outside.  He answered: ‘It is cold, with a north wind.’  We asked if he was cold.  He answered: ‘I think I am both hot and cold.’  I asked him loud he could shout.  He said, ‘So loud that the roof would go off the house, and you all would fall into a dead faint.’  I told him to try it.  He answered: ‘Do you think I am come to amuse you, you ------ idiot?’  I asked him to show us a little specimen.  He said he would do so, and gave three shouts, the last of which was so fearful that I have never heard anything worse, and doubt whether I ever shall.  Towards daybreak, after he had parted from us with the usual compliments, we fell asleep.

“Next morning he came in again, and began to waken up people; he named each one by name, not forgetting to add some nickname, and asking whether so-and-so was awake.  When he saw they were all awake, he said he was going to play with the door now, and with that he threw the door off its hinges with a sudden jerk, and sent it far in upon the floor.  The strangest thing was that when he threw anything it went down at once, and then went back to its place again, so it was evident that he either went inside it or moved about with it.

“The previous evening he challenged me twice to come out into the darkness to him, and this is an angry voice, saying that he would tear me limb from limb.  I went out and told him to come on, but nothing happened.  When I went back to my place and asked him why he had not fulfilled his promise, he said, ‘I had no orders for it from my master.’  He asked us whether we had ever heard the like before, and when we said ‘Yes,’ he answered, ‘That is not true: the like has never been heard at any time.’  He had sung ‘The memory of Jesus’ after I arrived there, and talked frequently while the word of God was being read.  He said that he did not mind this, but that he did not like the ‘Cross-school Psalms,’ and said it must have been a great idiot who composed them.  This enemy came like a devil, departed as such, and behaved himself as such while he was present, nor would it befit any one but the devil to declare all that he said.  At the same time it must be added that I am not quite convinced that it was a spirit, but my opinions on this I cannot give here for lack of time.”

In another work (Huld, part 3, p. 25, Keykjavik, 1893) where the sheriff’s letter is given with some variations and additions, an attempt is made to explain the story.  The phenomena were said to have been caused by a young man who had learned ventriloquism abroad.  Even if this art could have been practiced so successfully as to puzzle the sheriff and others, it could hardly have taken the door off its hinges and thrown it into the room.  It is curious that while Jon Espolin in his Annals entirely discredits the sheriff’s letter, he yet gives a very similar account of the spirit’s proceedings.