RELIGION.—THE VOLVAS.
Prophetic sibyls—Great reputation of some Volvas—Ceremonies
attendant on their prophecies—Payment to the sibyls—Their
descent—Incantations—Cats favourites of the sibyls.
The utterances of the _Volvas_ or sibyls,[309] who could tell the past
and the future, were given to the people as coming from the gods; and by
special preparations and conjurations they made men believe that they
were placed in such a state that they could see into the decrees of
fate, or, as they themselves expressed it, had been informed of things
which were previously secret.
Some _Volvas_ had a greater reputation than others, and in time of great
calamity people sent for them, in order to know the decrees of impending
fate. When the _Volva_ came a seat of honour was assigned to her, a
separate feast[310] prepared, and among the dishes one made of the
various hearts of animals.
When the principal question was to be answered, special preparations
were required. _Seid_[311] was to be performed. A _Seid-hjall_, or
platform consisting of a flat stone, was laid upon three or four posts,
and women were to be found who knew how to recite or sing the so-called
Vardlokur.[312] When all this was ready, and the _Volva_ on the
platform, the women formed in a circle round it, and the effective song
was chanted while the seeress, with the strangest gesticulations, made
her conjurations and received her revelations.[313]
The two brothers Hálfdán and Fródi were kings (in Denmark). Fródi slew
Hálfdán, but could not find his sons Helgi and Hróar, and therefore
invited Sœvil jarl, who was married to their sister Signý, to a feast,
as Fródi suspected that the boys were staying with him.
“A _Volva_ called Heid was there; Fródi asked her to use her art, and
try what she could tell of the boys. He entertained her splendidly, and
seated her on a high _seid-platform_. The King asked what tidings she
saw, ‘for I know that many things will pass before thy eyes now, and I
see great luck on thee; and answer me as quickly as thou canst,
seid-woman.’ She then threw open her jaws and yawned much, and a song
came out of her mouth:
‘Two are inside,
I trust neither of
The handsome ones
Who sit at the fires.’
“The King asked: ‘Is it the boys, or those who saved them?’ She
answered:
‘It is those who long
Were in Vifilsey
And were called there
With the names of dogs,
Hopp and Hó.’
“At this moment Signý threw a gold ring to her; she became glad at this
gift, and now wished to change what she had told. She said: ‘Why was
this so? All that I told was a lie, and now all my telling is gone
astray.’ The King said: ‘Thou shalt be tortured to tell it.’ ... He
shook the seid-woman hard, and asked her to tell the truth, if she did
not want to be tortured; she yawned much, and the seid-telling was
difficult. She sang:—
‘I see where sit
The sons of Hálfdán,
Hróar and Helgi,
Both unhurt;
They will rob
The life of Fródi
unless they are killed soon, which will not take place;’ thereupon she
leapt down from the seid-platform, and sang:—
‘Keen are the eyes
Of Ham and Hrani;[314]
The high-born are
Wonderfully bold.’
“Thereafter the boys ran out to the wood with great fear; their
foster-father Regin recognized them and was very glad. The _Volva_ had
given them the good advice to run away when she ran out of the hall
herself. The king asked men to rise and search for them. Regin
extinguished all the lights in the hall, and each man held the other
back, for some wished them to escape, and in this way they got into the
wood” (Hrolf Kraki’s Saga, c. 3).
The _Volva_ Gróa used spell-songs in order to get a whetstone out of
Thor’s head.
“The _Volva_ Gróa, wife of Örvandil the skilled, came and sang her
spell-songs over Thor until the whetstone got loose. When Thor felt
this, and had hope of getting rid of the whetstone, he wanted to reward
Gróa for the cure, and make her glad, he told her the tidings that he
had waded southward across Elivagar, and carried Örvandil in a basket on
his back away from Jötunheimar; the proof of this was that one of his
toes had projected out of the basket and frozen so that Thor broke it
off and threw it upon the heaven, and made of it the star called
Örvandil’s toe. Thor said he would soon come home. Gróa became so glad
that she remembered no spell-songs, and the whetstone did not get loose,
and still sticks in the head of Thor” (Skáldskaparmal, c. 17).
The descent of the Volvas is thus described:—
All Volvas come from
Vidólf,
All wizards from
Vilmeid,
All sorcerers
From Svarthöfdi,
All Jötnar
From Ymir.
The Sagas give an interesting insight into the incantations and ceremony
used by the _Volvas_.
“Ingjald dwelt at Hefni, north in Halogaland. He went on warfare in the
summer, remaining quiet during the winter. Friendship existed between
Ingjald and Thorstein Ketilsson, and the former became the fosterer of
Ingimund Thorsteinsson.
“Once at a feast, according to ancient custom, Ingjald prepared
incantation (_seid_), that men might know their fates. There was there a
Finn woman skilled in witchcraft. Ingimund and Grim (son of Ingjald)
came to the feast with a great many men. The Finn woman was placed high,
and splendid preparations made for her; each of the men went from his
seat to inquire of her about their fates. She told every one his fate,
but they did not all like it quite as well. The two foster-brothers sat
in their seats and did not go to inquire; they had no mind for her
prophesying. The _Volva_ said, ‘Why do these young men not ask about
their fates, for they seem to me the most noteworthy of those present?’
Ingimund answered, ‘I do not care to know my fate until it comes, and I
think my life does not depend on thy tongue-roots.’ She replied, ‘I
will, however, tell thee unasked. Thou wilt settle in a land called
Iceland; it is still to a great extent unsettled; there thou wilt become
a man of rank and grow old; many of thy kinsmen will also be famous men
in that land.’ Ingimund said, ‘This is well told, because I have made up
my mind never to go to that place, and I should be a poor trader if I
sell my many good family lands and go into deserts.’ The Finn answered:
‘It will happen as I tell, and it shall be a token that the image has
disappeared from thy purse which King Harald gave thee in Hafrsfjord,
and it now lies on the stone ridge where thou wilt settle; a Frey of
silver is marked on it; when thou buildest thy farm my tale will prove
true.’ Ingimund said: ‘If I should not offend my foster-father by it, I
would reward thee by knocking thee on the head; but because I am not an
overbearing or fretful man, I shall not do it.’ She said he need not be
angry. Ingimund said she had brought bad luck there, and she said that
it would be thus, whether he liked it or not. She added: ‘The fate of
Grim also points thither, as well as that of his brother Hrómund, and
both will be great bœndr.’ Next morning Ingimund searched for the image,
but did not find it; he thought this a bad omen. Ingjald told him to be
merry, and not let this affect him, or hinder his joy, saying that many
famous men now thought it honourable to go to Iceland, and that it was
only for good that he invited the Finn. Ingimund said he could not thank
him for this, but nevertheless their friendship would never cease”
(Vatnsdæla Saga, c. 10).
“At that time there was a very bad season in Greenland; the men who had
gone a-fishing had a small catch, and some had not returned. There was a
woman in that district (Herjolfsnes), Thorbjörg, who was a _spákona_,
and was called ‘the little _Volva_.’ She had had nine sisters, all
_spákonas_, but she alone was then living. It was her custom in the
winter to go to feasts, and those especially who wanted to know about
their fate, or the season, invited her. As Thorkel was the greatest
bondi in Herjolfsnes, it was thought he ought to know when the bad
season would cease. He invited the prophetess, and she was well
received, as war customary with such women. A high seat was prepared for
her, and a cushion of hen’s feathers placed upon it. That evening, when
she came with the man sent for her, she was dressed in a blue cloak with
straps, set with stones down to the skirts; she wore glass beads on her
neck, and a hood of black lambskin lined with white catskin; she had a
knobbed staff in her hand, ornamented with brass and with stones around
the top; at her belt hung a large skin-bag, in which she kept the charms
which she needed for her foretelling. She wore hairy calfskin shoes with
long thongs with large tin buttons on the ends; she had on her hands
white catskin gloves with the fur inside. When she entered every one
thought it his duty to greet her with words of respect; she received
this according to her liking of each of those present. Thorkel took her
hand and led her to the seat prepared for her, and then begged of her to
let her eyes run over the people of the household, and over the herd,
and over the homestead. She spoke a little of everything. The tables
were set in the evening; the food prepared for her was porridge made
with goat’s milk, and the hearts of all kinds of animals which were
there. She had a spoon of brass and a knife of brass with a handle of
walrus-tusk, mounted with two rings; its point was broken off. After the
tables were taken away, Thorkel went to her and asked how she liked the
looks of things there in the homestead and the behaviour of the men, and
how soon she would ascertain what he had asked her, which all were most
anxious to know. She said she could not tell until the next morning,
after she had slept. Towards the end of the following day such
preparations were made for her as she needed for performing the _seid_.
She bade them get women who knew the witchcraft songs which were used
for the _seid_, called _vard-lokkur_ (weird or fate songs); but such
women could not be found; search was made on the farm if any one knew
them. Then Gudrid (the daughter of an Icelander by name Thorbjörn, who
had emigrated to Greenland) said: ‘I am neither skilled in witchcraft
nor a prophetess, but nevertheless Halldis, my foster-mother, taught me
a poem in Iceland, which she called _vard-lokkur_.’[315] ‘Then thou art
wise in good time,’ replied Thorkel. She answered, ‘This is the only
custom at which I will not assist, for I am a Christian woman.’
Thorbjörg added, ‘It may be that thou wilt help people herewith and
wouldst not be a lesser woman than before (and still wouldst not be
lowered by it), and of Thorkel I will ask the things needed.’ Thorkel
pressed Gudrid hard, and she consented. The women placed themselves in a
ring around the _seid-hjall_ on which Thorbjörg sat, and Gudrid sang the
song so well that all present thought they had never heard a finer
voice. The _spákona_ thanked her, and said that many spirits who had
before wanted to depart and give no help had now come, and found
pleasure in listening, as the song was so well sung; ‘and many things
which before were hidden from me and others are now made clear. I can
tell thee, Thorkel, that this bad season will not last longer than this
winter, and that it will improve with the spring; the sickness which has
been here will also be better sooner than you expect. I will at once
reward thee Gudrid for thy help, for thy fate is now very clear to me;
thou wilt be married very honourably here in Greenland, though thou wilt
not enjoy it long, for thy ways lie to Iceland, where a great and good
family will spring from thee, and such bright rays shine over thy
offspring that I have not power to see this clearly; and now farewell,
daughter.’ Then they went to the _spákona_, and every man asked what he
wished most to know. She spoke willingly, and what she did not fail much
to prove true. Then she was called for to another farm, and went there.
Thorbjörn was then sent, for he would not stay at home while such
superstitions were performed. The weather soon improved, as Thorbjörg
had told” (Saga Thorfin’s Karlsefnis, c. 3).[316]
Cats seem to have been special favourites with these sorceresses.
“Thórolf Sleggja became a very unruly man; he was a thief, and in other
respects a very wicked man. People very much disliked his neighbourhood,
and thought they might expect any evil from him. Though he had not many
men with him, he had animals which he trusted, namely, twenty cats; they
were all black, and exceedingly large and strongly bewitched. People
went to Thorstein (a chief) and told him this trouble, as the rule of
the _herad_ belonged to him; they said Thórolf had stolen from many, and
done many other unmanly deeds. Thorstein said this was true, ‘but it is
not very easy to deal with this man of Hel and his cats, and I do not
want to lose any of my men against them.’ They answered he could
scarcely keep his honour if he did nothing. Then Thorstein gathered men,
as he wanted to have many with him. His brothers and his Norwegian guest
were with him. They went to Sleggjustadir. Thórolf did not trouble
himself about this; he could never have good men with him. He went in
when he saw them coming on horseback, and said: ‘Now the guests must be
welcomed, and I intend my cats to do it, and I will place all of them in
the entrance, and it will take them long before they get in if they
defend the door.’ Then he made them very strong with spells, and they
looked very fierce, mewing and rolling their eyes. Jökul (Thorstein’s
brother) said to Thorstein: ‘It was good advice of thine not to let this
human fiend be undisturbed any longer.’ They were eighteen men. Thórolf
said to himself: ‘Now fire shall be made, and I do not care though smoke
follows it, for the coming of the Vatnsdal men is not likely to be
peaceful. He put a kettle over the fire, and laid under it wool and all
kinds of rubbish, and the house became full of smoke. Thorstein came to
the door and said: ‘We ask thee to go out, Thórolf.’ He answered that
their errand could not be peaceful. Then the cats at once began to whine
and act hideously. Thorstein said: ‘This is a wicked company.’ Jökul
answered: ‘Let us go in at them, and not care for these cats.’ Thorstein
said they should not, ‘for it is most likely that our men will be hurt
by all the cats and Thórolf’s weapons, for he is a great champion; I
should prefer that he gave himself up and walked out, for he has so much
smoke from the fuel that he cannot well stay in.’ Thórolf took the
kettle off the fire and threw it on the wool-pile, and so strong a smell
came out that Thorstein and his men could not stand very near the door.
Thorstein said: ‘Beware of the cats that they do not clutch you, and let
us throw the fire into the houses.’ Jökul took a large firebrand and
threw it into the entrance, so that the cats drew back and the door fell
back. The wind blew on the houses and the flames were fanned up.
Thorstein said: ‘Let us stand at the fence where the smoke is thickest
and see what he does, for he has so much fuel that he cannot stay long.’
Thorstein guessed right. Thórolf jumped out with two chests full of
silver, and went with the smoke; when he came out the Norwegian was
there, and said, ‘Here is the fiend running, and he looks wicked now.’
He ran after Thórolf down to Vatnsdal river, until they came to some
deep pits or fens. There Thórolf turned round towards him, took hold of
him, laid him under his arm, and said: ‘Thou triest to run now; let us
then both run.’ He jumped into the bog and they sank, and neither came
up again. Thorstein said: ‘A great mishap was this that my Norwegian
should perish, but it is well that Thórolf’s property will be enough to
pay his wergild.’ And so it was. The abode of Thórolf was after this
called Sleggjustadir, and cats were often seen there, and it was often
thought evil to be there” (Vatnsdæla, c. 28).
Men and women with the power of foreseeing and foretelling were thought
to be born with the same gifts as the _Volva_;[317] by foretelling evil
they had a great hold on the people, and received good rewards for their
knowledge.[318]
“A woman, by name Oddbjörg, went about the _herad_. She was merry, wise
and foreknowing. She made it a great point that the housewives should
receive her well, and she told favourable things according to her
entertainment. She came to Upsalir. Saldis received her well, and asked
her to foretell something good about her boys. She said: ‘These boys
look promising if they have luck, which I do not see.’ Saldis said: ‘I
think thou wilt not find the entertainment very good for this taunt.’
She answered: ‘Thy entertainment will not depend on this, and thou
needest not be so sensitive as to words.’ Saldis said: ‘Little shalt
thou say of it if thy mind does not think it good.’ She answered: ‘I
have not as yet said too much, but I do not think their love to each
other will last long.’ Saldis replied, ‘I thought I deserved other words
for the sake of good entertainment, and thou wilt be driven away if thou
tellest evil foretellings.’ Oddbjörg said: ‘I think I need not spare
thee as thou mayest this without reason; I will not visit thee again,
and thou mayest bear this as well as thou wilt, but I can tell thee that
they will carry spears of death against each other, and one thing after
another, worse and worse, will be caused by this in the _herad_’” (Viga
Glum, c. 12).
“When Hákon, Pal’s son, was in Sweden, he heard of a man who practised
sorcery and foretelling, whether he used for it witchcraft or other
things. He became very curious to see this man, and know what he could
tell about his fate. He went to him, and at last found him in a district
near the sea where he received feasts and foretold seasons and other
things to the bondi. When he met him he asked how he would succeed in
getting the realm or other luck. The wizard asked who he was, and he
told his name and kin, that he was a son of the daughter of Hákon,
Ivar’s son. The wizard said: ‘Why shouldst thou ask witchcraft or
foretelling from me? Thou knowest that thy kinsmen little liked men of
my kind. It may be needful for thee to ask thy kinsman, Olaf the Stout,
in whom thou trustest fully, about thy fate, but I guess that he will
not condescend to tell thee what thou art anxious to know, or is not so
powerful as thou thinkest him.’ Hákon answered: ‘I will not blame him,
for I think it is rather my unworthiness to learn wisdom from him than
his incapability to teach it to me. I have come to thee because I think
that neither of us need envy the other as to virtue or religion.’ The
man answered: ‘I am pleased that thou trustest fully in me, and more
than in the belief of thyself and thy kinsmen. It is strange with those
who have this belief, they fast and have vigils, and think thus to be
able to know the things they desire, and though they do such things they
know less of the things they wish to know the more important they are.
We undergo no afflictions, and yet always know the things our friends
think important. Now it will be so that I will keep thee, because I see
thou thinkest thou canst rather get truth from me than from the
preachers of King Ingi whom he trusts fully. Thou shalt come after three
nights, and then we shall see whether I am able to tell thee any of the
things thou wishest to know.’ They parted, and Hákon passed three nights
in the district, and then went to the wizard. He was alone in a house
and sighed heavily when Hákon entered, stroked his forehead with his
hand, and said it had taken him much trouble to know the things he
wished to hear of; Hákon said he wanted to hear his fate. The wizard
began: ‘If thou wishest to know thy fate it is long to tell, for it is
great, and many great tidings will spring from thy life and doings—I see
in my mind that thou wilt at last become sole chief over the Orkneys,
but it may be thou thinkest the waiting time long. I also think that thy
offspring will rule there, and thy next journey westward to the Orkneys
will lead to great events when that which springs from it appears. Thou
wilt also in thy days commit a crime which thou mayest redress or not to
the god in whom thou believest. Thy steps go further out into the world
than I can trace, though I think thou wilt rest thy bones in its
northern half. Now I have told thee what I can tell thee this time, and
thou mayest be satisfied or not with it.’ Hákon answered: ‘Much tellest
thou if it is true, but I think it will turn out better than thou
sayest, and maybe thou hast not seen the truth.’ The wizard said he
might believe what he liked, but that this would take place”
(Orkneyinga, c. xxvi. p. 100).
The crime was the slaying of St. Magnus; and the steps out in the world,
Rögnvald’s journey to the Holy Land.