John Arnason, in his Icelandic Folklore
and Fairy Tales (vol. i., p. 309), gives the 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 other 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 how loud he could shout. He said, 'So loud that the roof would go off
the house, and you would all 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 in 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'.
1808. The narrative is as follows: —
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 [*1]
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.
[*1] Huld, part 3, p. 25, Keyyavik,
1893.
Source : Andrew Lange "The Book
Of Dreams And Ghosts", Chapter XI (1897). Lange's Source : "Icelandic
Folklore and Fairy Tales" By Jon Arnason(vol. i., p. 309)