Icelandic Magic (4 page)

PROTESTANT PERIOD

When Protestantism was introduced in Iceland beginning in about 1536, a radical new situation came into being. As learning decreased in quality for a time and persecutions of magic increased in intensity, elements of Icelandic magic already in place began to be increasingly admixed with elements from previously rejected paganism. The result of this was that the new Protestant establishment in some cases equated elements of Catholic practice with pagan lore.

As the Catholic period drew to a close, there lived two contemporary Icelandic magicians with very different reputations. One was Gottskálk Niklásson the Cruel (bishop of Hólar from 1497 to 1520), who had a reputation as an “evil” magician. He was said to be the compiler of the fabled Rauðskinna book of magic (further discussed in chapter 7). Gottskálk is otherwise well known in Icelandic history as a ruthless political schemer who conspired against secular political figures for his own benefit. This bad reputation is probably the real source of his image in the folk tradition. An approximate contemporary of Gottskálk was Hálfdanur Narfason (died 1568), vicar of Fell in Gottskálk's diocese of Hólar. Little is known of Hálfdanur's life, but there is a rich body of folktales concerning him. He appears as the legendary “white” counterpoint to the “black” bishop, Gottskálk.

Hálfdanur and Gottskálk stand at the gateway of transition between the Catholic and Reformation Ages in the history of Icelandic magic. Much later on in the Protestant period we again meet with a pair of strongly contrasted magicians: Eiríkur and Galdra-Loftur (Loftur the Magician). Eiríkur was a quiet and pious vicar who lived from 1637 to 1716. He is little known in history but shares with Sæmundur the reputation of being a practitioner of good magic, wholly derived from godly sources. This reputation was maintained despite the fact that he was not above practicing the most dreaded arts, such as necromancy, for “pedagogical purposes.” Here I refer to one of the most telling anecdotes in the history of Icelandic magic—one that emphasizes the character, courage, and level of humor necessary to practice magic. This passage about Eiríkur testing two different boys who wanted to learn magic from him is translated in chapter 7.

This episode might be compared with part of the story about Galdra-Loftur in which he is supposed to have committed one of his most depraved acts—raising the
draugur
(ghost) of Bishop Gottskálk in an effort to take from his ghost the famous “black book,” Rauðskinna, which had been buried with him. Not much is known of the historical Loftur other than that he was a scholar at the school of Hólar and he died in 1722. Galdra-Loftur is generally regarded as a kind of Icelandic Faust whose major “sin” lies in his insatiable desire for more knowledge and power. A translation of a passage from this folktale is presented in chapter 7 of this book as well.

As a result of Iceland's unique church organization during the Catholic period, together with the general isolation of the country from Continental affairs, the practice of magic was not officially persecuted or prosecuted during that time. The Inquisition became active on the Continent following Pope Innocent III's bull of 1199. This papal bull was primarily directed against what were believed to be organized heretics. Over time its authority widened to include sorcery, even when heresy was not involved, as was made clear in a bull by Pope Nicholas V in 1451. But even this failed to penetrate the dark mists of Thule. This phenomenon is probably in large part due to the fact that in Iceland it was clergymen themselves who were most actively engaged in sorcery!

Later on Protestants on the Continent were no less severe in dealing with witchcraft than the Catholic Inquisition had been, and in many cases they were more devastating since their focus on individuals and small groups tended to lead to indiscriminate persecutions. It was under the cover of the Reformation that real witchcraft persecutions came to Iceland. These persecutions never reached the genocidal levels known on the Continent, and especially in Germany, where hundreds of thousands were executed, but they are still historically significant for the small country of Iceland.

Some of the moral attitudes demonstrated by Icelanders toward magic being either good or evil may also go back to pagan sentiments. It would be a great mistake and error to assume that in pre-Christian times there was no such thing as “evil magic.” Many of the spells of Óðinn reflected in the “Hávamál” are directed against evil sorcerers or witches. Clearly in pagan times the good was judged to be that which promoted the general welfare and defended humans, productive animals, crops, and so on. Evil was thought to be that which was destructive of good things or detrimental to the general welfare of the people, animals, or life in general. In Christian times, by contrast, the “good” was judged to be that which promoted the interests and dogmas of the church, and evil was anything set against these. The morality of the Icelandic magician was generally that of the pagan past, with little regard for the sources of the symbolism used.

The earliest trial for witchcraft in Iceland is recorded in 1554; the last such trial is recorded at the Althing of 1720. It must be said that records were poorly kept in this period, but it is estimated that during this time some 350 trials were held, although records for only 125 survive. Of these 125 accused persons, only 9 were women.
^*9
Obviously this is in stark contrast to the usual pattern of witchcraft accusations and suggests something of the demographics of actual magical practice in Iceland. It is also a general reflection of established Germanic tradition, where men were at least the equal of women when it came to the “occult” arts. Records exist for only twenty-six executions for witchcraft. These were mostly carried out by burning. Of the cases against female witches, only one woman was actually executed. Others who were convicted of this crime, but whose sentences were short of death, were flogged or outlawed. Outlawry meant that they were in effect banished from the country and sent into exile abroad.

Clearly the period of the most intensive witchcraft persecutions was between the first execution in 1625 and the last in 1685. However, it is worth noting that during this time Iceland suffered under a moral code of extremely harsh laws. These provided for capital punishment for a wide variety of crimes—murder, incest, adultery, theft—as well as witchcraft. Even finding rune staves carved on a stick or written on parchment was evidence sufficient to convict someone of witchcraft. This is a far cry from the saga age when great men knew the runes and the Althing could not impose the death penalty! It is also worth pointing out that although it was not necessarily the poorest or most ignorant people who were accused of sorcery, the rich and powerful or the scholarly (who were the chief practitioners, historically) were, for the most part, immune from prosecution.

In the period between 1550 and 1680 Iceland developed a form of magic that was practiced by members of the highest levels of its society. The fact that this synthesis survived as long as it did, however, is perhaps due to the relative lack of a strict set of socioeconomic and educational class distinctions in Iceland. Even today Icelanders are noted for their strong beliefs in occult matters and their general pride in their pagan past.

LEGENDARY BLACK BOOKS

There are two main texts that have assumed mythic importance in the history of Icelandic black books. It is impossible to tell where legend ends and history begins with these accounts, but one thing that is borne out by hard evidence is the
importance
of such books and the overall nature of their contents.

The most famous and sinister of all these books was Rauðskinna (Red-Skin). This was said to have been compiled by the most evil of all magicians, Bishop Gottskálk Niklásson the Cruel, the bishop of Hólar who died in 1520. Rauðskinna is said to be a book of the blackest magic, drawn from the Heathen Age. It was supposed to have been inscribed with golden letters and runes on red parchment. This is why the book was called “Red-Skin,” in other words, “Red Vellum.” Legend has it that Gottskálk was buried with the Rauðskinna, and it is further said that he did not pass on all of the magic compiled in the book. For this reason the text was thought to possess enormous secret power. Approximately two hundred years after Gottskálk's death, a young scholar named Loftur, or Galdra-Loftur, lived and studied at the school of Hólar. Loftur wished to acquire all the knowledge contained in Rauðskinna. To do this he attempted to raise the dead Gottskálk and force him to give up the book. Even though Loftur was able to raise the dead bishop, he was ultimately unsuccessful in gaining the book. Loftur was left psychologically shattered by the encounter with the powerful ghost of Gottskálk the Cruel. The exact details of this encounter are reported in chapter 7.

Another famous magical book of semi-legend was Gráskinna (Gray-Skin). There were perhaps at one time two different books by this name, one at Hólar and one at Skálholt. The description of this book is interesting in that the text is supposed to have been divided into two parts. The first was written in normal letters (the Roman alphabet) and contained information on lesser magical arts; for example,
glímugaldur
(wrestling magic) and
lófalist
(palmistry). The second part was said to be written in
villurúnir
(deceptive or coded runes designed to conceal their actual meanings). These were black magic spells that the magician Galdra-Loftur is reported to have mastered.

Of course these books may have never actually existed, but certainly ones with contents very much like those described in folktales did exist. We do not need to repeat what the usual fate was for such books once they were discovered by the established authorities. Given the active campaign that was carried out against such books for centuries, it is remarkable any of them survive.

THE
GALDRABÓK

The title
Galdrabók
has been given to the oldest and most complete of the books of this kind. The original manuscript of this collection of magical spells was written in Iceland beginning sometime during the latter part of the 1500s. It is therefore a product of the Reformation Age. The manuscript is made up of a collection of spells, more or less randomly pieced together. It is not a unified composition or an attempt to teach magic. It is more a recipe book than a manual. As we have the book now, it has been added to by four scribes working over a period of about a hundred years.

The magician who recorded the first few spells in the book lived in Iceland during the latter half of the sixteenth century. Soon after, the book was passed on to another Icelander who added a few more items. It was probably sometime later that a third Icelandic scribe came into possession of the pages and added the last few spells that were actually written in Iceland. This last Icelandic magician, or
galdramaður,
used a cursive style that can be dated to the seventeenth century. What is noteworthy about his additions is that they contain such a rich storehouse of references to the pagan Germanic lore. These sections were written down around 1650, more than half a millennium after the official Christianization of Iceland. Shortly after this third scribe added his spells, the manuscript was taken to Denmark as part of the effort of humanists to collect literary antiquities. In Denmark it appears to have come into the possession of a Danish magician who wrote the last four entries. This Dane seems to have had some access to other Icelandic books of magic, now lost, from which he collected these spells. We suppose this because the language is Icelandic and no parallel Danish material exists.

Danish philologist J. G. Sparfvenfelt acquired the book in 1682. It was later sent to Sweden, where it became a part of that country's ever-growing collection of “Gothic” monuments and manuscripts. In the end it was acquired by the Royal Swedish Academy of Sciences in Stockholm, where it is now preserved.

The contents of the
Galdrabók
demonstrate essentially two different kinds of magic. One kind works by means of a prayer formula in which higher powers are invoked and by which the magical end is effected indirectly. However, this is only the case with a few of the spells in the
Galdrabók.
More common are spells that work as direct expressions of the magician's will. This will is expressed through signs or through written or spoken formulas. Often these methods are combined so that the overall ritual is very similar to the kind practiced in ancient times and reported by Egill Skallagrímsson.

The religious outlook expressed in Icelandic spells is also of some interest. In the older material spells have a predominantly non-Christian or overtly pagan (or even sometimes diabolical) frame of reference. This is not hard to understand, because the general use of magic was consistently connected to the heathen past and with demonic sources by Christian writers. Nevertheless, at the same time there are spells that have a “purely Christian” frame of reference in that they overtly cite Christian figures or use Christian formulas. We use the term “Christian” with caution, because magic in general, especially when practiced by lay individuals, was looked upon with suspicion by the church. The Judeo-Gnostic tradition is also present. These make use of Judaic or Greco-Gnostic formulas, which entered Scandinavian culture along with Christianity, but they cannot be classified as Christian per se
.
The
Galdrabók
also contains spells that mix overtly Germanic pagan contents with overtly Christian contents. It is possible that in the Protestant period ritualistic Catholic formulas were seen in a light similar to that of pagan ideas, and both fell into the category of “rejected knowledge” and thus became attractive as material for the creation of magical formulas.

OTHER COLLECTIONS OF MAGIC

Besides the
Galdrabók,
no complete and archaic book of its kind has survived, but there are several books that contain various amounts of interesting magical lore and spells. One of the main problems for research in this area is that all of the sources have not been collected and edited in an organized way.

One old Icelandic “leechbook” (medicinal manual) from the late 1400s has been edited by KÃ¥lund. It contains several pages at the beginning that have more magical content than the other material in the book. These pages contain some of the oldest depictions of the
ægishjálmur
(see chapter 9) and similar signs, as well as prayer formulas in which the old divinities (for example, Óðinn [also as Fjölnir], Þórr, Frigg, and Freyja) are mixed together with Judeo-Christian figures.

Starting in the late eighteenth century we have a continuous record of magical manuals composed in the modern period. Most of these actually date from the 1800s, but their contents go back at least to the 1700s. Various elements they contain can be traced back even further, to the medieval period and beyond.

The
Huld Manuscript
is known to have been compiled by Geir Vigfússon of Akureyri, who died in 1880. The spells contained in this collection are, however, much older. For example, many are comparable with those that appear in the
Galdrabók.
In this manuscript most of the
galdrastafir
or
galdramyndir
are given specific names, and instructions for making them are provided.

There is also a collection known as the
Kreddur Manuscript.
This was discovered in Eyjafjörður. It was written (or perhaps copied) in the late nineteenth century, but linguistic evidence clearly indicates that it largely consists of material originally composed in the seventeenth century.

The National Library of Iceland has a vast collection of magical manuscripts in this tradition. Some are in very poor condition. Thankfully, scholars are now beginning to make new editions of them.

THE TWO TRADITIONS IN THE NORTH

Generally speaking there were two great traditions of magic in the Scandinavian region: one stemming from the indigenous Germanic culture and one coming from the Continent. The dichotomy between these two is not of extreme importance here since we are concentrating on the Icelandic tradition, which was the most culturally conservative of all the Germanic lands and also the one that synthesized the two strands of magic into a harmonious whole. By contrast, in the magical traditions of England and Germany as early as the tenth century, as well as some magical teachings in Sweden during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, we find a transmission of virtually pure magical traditions from the Mediterranean into the northern realms. This transmission occurred through the written word, which was sometimes even translated into the vernacular languages of the North. It should also be realized, however, that the “Mediterranean tradition” was by this time a largely artificial and composite one that included elements from Greco-Egyptian, Judeo-Christian, and even Eastern features from various Near Eastern and Indian cults such as Zoroastrianism, Mithraism, and Manicheanism. This highly synthetic set of practices and rituals made headway against the indigenous Northern tradition, not by brute economic and military force and coercion, as was the case with orthodox religion, but by the gentler and far more irresistible power of prestige.

It is in Germany where this whole process was most clear. There we find an early text in Old High German called the
Second Merseburg Charm,
which is the last record of the god Wodan's name being used in a magical context on the Continent. By contrast, in Iceland the use of his name (Óðinn) continues well into the 1700s and beyond. The name also continues to be known in remote regions of Scandinavia and perhaps even in the countryside of England. We do find that in Germany the old folk traditions of magic also continued, although these were to a great extent superficially Christianized. Older magical customs continued to be practiced at the level of the common folk in the countryside, whereas in the cities and university towns the Mediterranean tradition was actually being further developed, articulated, and even refined by German scholars and magicians. These included the semi-legendary Georg (Johann) Faustus (1480–1539?), Albertus Magnus (1193–1280), Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim (Paracelsus) (1493–1541), and Cornelius Agrippa von Nettesheim (1486–1535). Among them the two traditions were merged. An analysis of the German hermetic magicians shows intense interest in the use of local folk traditions. At the same time, however, these folk traditions were being ever more saturated with non-Germanic figures, entities, and techniques that largely supplanted the pagan ones.

Around the year 1600 a Swedish scholar and magician by the name of Johan Bure (Latinized name: Johannes Bureus; 1568–1652) became the living prototype of a new kind of runic operator. He was simultaneously a scientist and a practitioner of magic. In this he was being very much true to the spirit of the Renaissance. Bure absorbed the magical techniques and ideas that were then being imported into the North from the southern climes, but he also reinvestigated local runic traditions. He welded the two together in his own unique system.

As magical symbols, runes were of little influence in the practice of sorcery on the Continent after the beginning of the Middle Ages. But there are two interesting examples of runes found in non-Scandinavian European magical books. The first is in a fourteenth-century Latin language work found in Italy. It is now housed in the British Museum Library (MS Sloane 3854). The work is actually an edition of the Arabic book of magic originally titled
Ghayat al-Hakim
—known in Latin as the
Picatrix.
The Sloane 3854 version contains several unique features not found in the original, while other parts of the original have been left out. At a certain juncture, instructions are provided about “how to write the names of the planets' spiritual forces in a cryptic alphabet.”
^*10
The characters of this alphabet are called
runae.
The material demonstrates familiarity with runic practice as known in Scandinavia in the Middle Ages. The second work is a fifteenth-century medical manuscript written in the Alemannic dialect of German. It is now stored in the University Library of Prague (MS XXIII F 129). Here we see the use of a version of the Scandinavian medieval runic alphabet as a device for encoding certain phrases and names of secret ingredients employed in magical recipes, as well as certain words in a conjuration of the devil.

Practical magical books continued to be compiled and collected and, we presume, to be used by Icelandic magicians and lay antiquarians right up into the mid-twentieth century. Typically such material was passed secretly from one magician to another in written form, and sometimes it was even passed from a dead magician to his magical heir. However, it was most common for such books to be discovered by hostile surviving family members and immediately destroyed. A new tradition of collection came into vogue in the twentieth century. Books no longer had to be passed secretly from one magician to another. Instead the manuscripts could be collected in libraries, and there they could be viewed and discovered by a new generation of scholars and practitioners.