The Kraken

Below the thunders of the upper deep;
Far far beneath in the abysmal sea,
His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep
The Kraken sleepeth: faintest sunlights flee  

About his shadowy sides; above him swell
Huge sponges of millennial growth and height;
And far away into the sickly light,
From many a wondrous grot and secret cell
Unnumber'd and enormous polypi

Winnow with giant arms the slumbering green.
There hath he lain for ages, and will lie
Battening upon huge seaworms in his sleep,
Until the latter fire shall heat the deep;
Then once by man and angels to be seen,
In roaring he shall rise and on the surface die.

- Alfred Tennyson 

An illustration from the original 1870 edition of
Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne

In popular culture, few beings have evoked more horror and jaw-dropping feedback than the creatures we find at sea. Some of the oldest recorded notions are connected to the abyss, bewildering and infinite as it appears to this day. One of the most mysterious being connections to this realm, is quite certainly the Kraken. 

Introducing this article, we found English poet Alfred Tennyson's poem The Kraken, published in 1830. Some may recognize that the last lines of the poem, bearing similarities with the biblical legend of the mysterious Leviathan - a huge sea monster which was to come to the surface in the end times, in the form of something in between of a snake and a dragon. Tennyson's description has in turn influenced French author Jules Verne, who mentions a giant squid in the novel Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea, published in 1870.

Fantasy writer J.R.R. Tolkien also made use of the tales of the Kraken, as inspiration for the monster at the entrance to Moria's mines mentioned in The Fellowship of the Ring, published in English in 1954 and 1955. Later on, notions of the Kraken have been included in several popular cultural narratives; some might recall the creature taking form of a great octopus, in the American fantasy swashbuckler film Pirates of the Carribean; Dead Man's Chest from 2006. 

For those of you unfamiliar with the film, here's a tasty teaser:

Already in ancient times there were several stories telling of great monsters at sea. In Greek and Roman mythology there are notions of Skylla, who lived on one side of a narrow strait; a terrible thing to behold, she had four eyes, six long necks with eerie heads, each of which had three rows of sharp teeth. Her body consisted of twelve feet resembling tentacles, she had a fishtail and four to six dog heads (!) growing out at her waist.

On the other side of the strait, there was Kharybdis, who lived under a small mountain. Three times a day, Kharybdi swallowed large amounts of water before blowing it out again, thus creating a whirlpool large enough to pull a ship under water. In one of the variations of the story, Kharybdis in fact is a great whirlpool or the embodiment of it. Together they guarded the Strait of Messina between Italy and Sicily, and the Odyssey tells of how they almost swallowed the Greek legendary hero Odysseus. "Between Skylla and Kharybdis" became a fixed saying; to choose between two evils. Between a rock and a hard place.

According to Konungs skuggsjá (Old Norse, ’the King’s Mirror’), an Old Norwegian philosophical didactic work written toward the end of the 12th century, there was a creature so monstrous and fearsome, that the author of the work thought it daring just to mention it. Described as a massive fish, more resembling an island than a living thing, the gap no smaller than a large strait or a fjord, the Hafgufa (Icelandic origin, meaning 'ocean-steam'), was rarely observed. Always spotted in the same two places, the author concluded there must be only two of the Hafgugas and that they must be infertile, otherwise the seas would be full of them. 

The Swedish clergyman Olaus Magnus' imaginative "Carta Marina" from 1539 shows a number of sea monsters in the waters between Norway and Iceland. The map was drawn in Italy and is today available in two well-known copies - one is stored in Munich, the other in the Carolina Rediviva library in Uppsala, Sweden.

According to Danish bishop and natural historian Erik Pontoppidan (1698-1764), the creature was also called krake or kraks, and had been observed by many fishermen along the Norwegian coast over the years. The descriptions he reproduced are very reminiscent of Konungs skuggsjá, written 500 years earlier. When the fishermen, especially on hot summer days, suddenly found themselves on a strange shallow with quantities of fish, it was the Kraken about to rise from the deep, resulting in the "unnatural increase" of the depth conditions. Then suddenly, glistening, mast-high spikes and ridges appeared, able to sink even the largest warship - "and after a short time the Kraken descended into the depths again", leaving a fatal whirlpool. Pontoppidan himself thought that the monster must have beeen a giant octopus.

The idea of this creature is international, and goes far back in time to distant shores, to China, India and the Atlantic Ocean. The Roman Gaius Plinius (23-79 AD) for example, could tell about a fish a hundred meters long, and about whales with a surface area of a small piece of land. They appeared especially around the summer solstice when whirlwinds stirred the sea. One could be tempted to refer it all to fantasy, had it not been for the prolonged and rather unanimous notions, based on reliable observations also from recent times.

On September 11, 1876, the English ship Nestor passed such a monster in the Strait of Malacca. The captain's report was published a week later in the Straits Times Overland Journal. Neither the captain, the crew, nor the passengers were in doubt; they had seen an immense body of an animal follow the ship for half an hour. The length was calculated to be over 200 feet, the square head about four meters wide.

Outside Iceland, observations of the havgufa, or ocean-steams, might originate from natural explanations; from underwater volcanoes that can create ocean currents, bubbling water and the formation of new islets. Many of the other observations that have been made, may simply be mirages or low-lying clouds. It is not unreasonable to believe that this sea monster was in fact a whale or giant octopuses searching the fish banks for food, and that the fishermen in their small boats, understandably, experienced a threatening and monstrous being of great and supernatural dimensions.

Nevertheless;  among the coastal people of western and northern Norway, the tall tale tradition of the Kraken remained almost unchanged in legends and eyewitness accounts right into the 20th century. The fisherman encountering the monster at first observes the sea which, little by little becomes shallower, and fills up with a shoal of fish. Eventually, several long poles or arms shoots up from the abyss, huddles around the fish as in an embrace, before sinking back into the depths again. 

The notions connected to this creature, bear reminders of a need to comprehend even the most enigmatic and treacherous a man could ever encounter; the abyss. There was a saying in Norwegian; to fish “upon the kraken.” In many cases, this entailed chances of a big catch. It may also involve a fatal peril – to risk life itself. 

The Kraken, as seen by the eye of imagination: imaginary view of a gigantic octopus seizing a ship, 1887. Gibson, J. (1887). Monsters of the Sea: Legendary and Authentic. Thomas Nelson and Sons, London. 

Source:

• Ørnulf Hodne (2012). Vetter og skrømt i norsk folketro. Cappelen Damm. 

"They traveled through the air on broomsticks" - traditions of paschal witches' sabbaths

Easter's protective magic was especially aimed at sorcerers who were particularly active on Maundy Thursday and Easter Eve, when Jesus Christ had not yet resurrected. Central to the belief in witches were the Sabbaths, as they “traveled through the air on broomsticks, ladles and goats to specific places of gathering – be it at the Blocksberg (Brocken) in Germany, Blockula in Sweden, Lyderhorn in Norway, where the Devil held his Earthly court.

Blockula, (assumed to be a Swedish equalent to the German Blocksberg), was according to Swedish popular belief Satans domicile, where the witches were believed to be going on Maundy Thursday to feast with Lucifer, from which they returned Easter Sunday morning. The journey would be conducted on a broomstick, a green-branch, sometimes also on a farm animal, a horse or a human being. The rider often sat backwards, and the means of transport was lubricated with a kind of magic butter, which the sorceress kept in a horn. 

The witch's equipment often also included a needle, which, when stuck into a wall, for the moment created such an opening large enough to, "go through by horse and carriage." Thus it became easy for the witches to abduct children – a misdeed, which they often conducted to acquire new disciples. The witches gathered in church towers, where they scraped flakes of metal of the church bells. As they continued the ride, they threw the ore shavings into the air, shouting, "May my soul never come to the kingdom of God, until this metal makes it back to the bells!"

When arriving at Blockula they greeted Satan, whom the witches referred to as "gofar" (“good-father”) or "antifar" (“anti-father”), and presented to him the children. He signed a contract with the young ones by handshake, after which he bit them in the forehead or scratched them in the little finger, shedding the children’s blood. At last they were inscribed in a large book. After a great feast, there was music and dance, in which Satan joined in, "amused by the works of darkness." People seem to have witnessed a religious act during the travels to Blockula, whose compliance presupposed the renunciation of Christianity. 

This French engraving shows a witch's sabbath at Bloksberg. By Mikael Herr (1650)

Obviously, the fear of such a wicked act to take place was most present. Consequently, people took as much precaution as they could muster. Pieces of steel inserted over doors, beds, and barns were safety advice that kept the witches at bay. So did crosses, open fire and brooms (!). Indeed, you read correctly. Norwegian sociologist Eilert Sundt (1817-1875) has pointed out that it was common to lay a broomstick outside the front door so that people could dry their shoes on it before entering the house. "True, spruce bushes could also be used; but according to the customs, it should preferably be a broom; for over such a device, neither sorcerers nor other hostilities could cross", Sundt wrote. Such women could be recognized by throwing the broom aside with their feet before entering!

If the sorceress couldn't find a broom to ride, she took a horse, cow or goat instead, which was much worse. This was the reason why, Sundt believed, so many people put a number of broomsticks outside the kitchen or barn door on Christmas Eve and Maundy Thursday. If there was a broom outside, the witches would not make use of other entities.

Sources:

• ”Blåkulla”, in Nordisk Familjebok. Konversationslexikon och realencyklopedi. Tredje bandet. Bergsvalan – Branstad. Stockholm 1905
• Ørnulf Hodne (1999). Norsk folketro. Cappelen forlag.

Across land and sea: reflections on the Black Plague

Looking back, my very first post on this blog was an article about the black plague and an old hag named Pesta. Seven years later, I feel a need to elaborate. Although I will not draw any comparisons, times like these makes me think. Typhoid fever, cholera, dysentery and plague have, since antiquity, appeared in the most varied forms. With no medical understanding of the illness itself or the spread of infection, how is something similar to a pandemic explained? How did people hundreds of years ago relate and come to terms with such a catastrophe?

According to Norwegian medieval historian Ole Jørgen Benedictow, it was in September 1348 that merchant ships sailing from Oslo to seaports in Southeast England this time would return with something quite different than the usual cargo of wheat, glassware, beer and wine; the crew could tell about such a horrifying pestilence unlike anything before. Originating from parasites living on the rodents that were regular passengers on the ships, the bacterium named Yersinia pestis transmitted effectively to men, whom in turn passed it on to each other. Regardless of age, gender and social status, none were spared – under a period of only two years, nearly 220,000 of a Norwegian population on an estimated 350,000 residents would perish. It was a tribulation beyond measure, and it is natural to imagine that the plague would generate an anguish that would dominate people’s minds and storytelling in the centuries that followed.

The creation of Pesta in the folk traditions describes the need for an embodiment of a previously unknown experience. She is a mythical being, not of this world, yet she is not as regular a feature in nature and the folktales such as trolls, dwarves or the hulderfolk - she is special, unique in her malice. She gave shape to the eeriness and anguish that arose from the Black Death, and we get a rare glimpse of the experiences of the ordinary folk; dark, blind and hideous, death raged from farm to farm.

Theodor Kittelsen (1894-96). 

Illustration for The Black Plague (1900).

Nasjonalmuseet, The Fine Art Collections

In the traditional district Solør in the Southeastern part of Norway, it was told that "Pesta was an old hag, whom in previous times made her way around the farms in Solør. She carried with her a rake, and a broom. Where she made use of her rake outside the farmhouse door, some were spared. But where she used her broom, all became ill, and perished."

On that account, it is quite clear that a consciousness of the mortality of the illness emerged at an early stage; with the speed of lightening, "it ravaged across the lands, bringing Norway to a state of powerlessness that would last for centuries." And it was an old, black-backed and beastly hag who was to blame. Simultaneously, there was a need for an understanding of why there were people whom, against all odds, came out of it unaffected, while other places not a living soul could be seen for miles. Pesta’s use of her the rake and broom in fact helped explain this injustice; where she used her rake some were lucky enough to live, slipping as they did though the rakes gaps. Where she used her broom, all perished.

Norwegian folklorist Reidar Th. Christiansen presented the stories of transportation the plague across land and sea as a separate category within the folklore tradition, which indicates that stories like these were highly widespread. What’s interesting is that traces of historical truth can be detected through these legends. The plot – Pesta receiving assistance to travel across waters - can firstly be associated with the arrival of the plague by the ships from England in 1349. The legend might also be interpreted a defense technique used to prevent the spread of the plague; the technique involved quarantining an entire district, where rivers and streams marked the boundary which no one were to violate. "Where the parish or district borders were marked by a river, any traffic across were prohibited. The plague was not considered to be able to cross over running water", Swedish folklorist Carl-Herman Tillhagen writes. The consequence was complete isolation.

From Norwegian historian and priest Andreas Faye's records we find a legend from Gjerrestad in Aust-Agder in Southern Norway, which tells of the ferryman who were employed to ship Pesta across from one side of the waters to the next. It took a while before he realized who the passanger actually was, and became very frightened when the truth finally dawned on him. The man pleaded her to spare his life as a reward for having carried her across: "Pesta then took out a large book, opened it and replied: 'Your life I cannot save, but an easy death I may grant you.' As soon as the man returned home, he became drowsy. He then lay down, and perished."

Theodor Kittelsen, Across land and sea (1904)

This is not a unique formula; the stories of the folk traditions tell of supernatural beings interfering in all areas of everyday life, and as a consequense, people thought that the subterranians were nearby or followed them wherever they were. The stories about the nisse might be a relevant comparison; nissen had his abode in houses and barns, and served as a guardian, as well as a helper. He was essentially good-natured, and loved conducting 
practical jokes. It was however, important to be on good terms with him, for he could create a lot of turmoil if he was neglected. That being said, Pesta, of course, was not considered a helper, yet the story of the ferryman might be interpreteted as an explanation of why someone had to suffer the black death for days, while others were "lucky" enough to simply fall asleep, never to wake up again. 

For a population who had no knowledge of the medical explanatory model for infection and the spread of disease, it was natural to make use of a worldview already familiar to the ordinary folk. In popular belief, disappearances, sickness, and misery were most often not something people were accidentally exposed to, but rather punishments for violating the social norms existing between humans and the supernatural. 

Plaga, a word of Latin origin meaning stroke or shock, is a term which has been in use for centuries; already Homer's The Illiad, tells of Apollon shooting arrows contaminated with plague on the achaeans, and several sections of the Old Testament tells of an angel of the Lord striking the people with plague by using a sword. In pagan times, it was also believed that sickness and good health, besides happiness and suffering, life and death, were associated with the benevolence and resentment of the gods. In the Nordic lands, long after Christianity was introduced, the folk tradition expresses a mixture of anxiety about what the ancient gods could think of to avenge, as well as thoughts about the plague as a punishment from a chastening, Christian God for mankind's sinful ways of life. 

Combined, these perspectives are important at multiple levels; embodiments such as Pesta help to form an intelligible system in spite of chaotic situations. Hence, they expresse people's need and ability to create create an unambiguous structure of a situation that has gotten out of control. The story of the ferryman verifies this viewpoint; by helping her across (although unknowledgeable), he is given the opportunity to influence his own passing. In this sense, he is rewarded in some way, even if his life comes to an end. At the same time, the thoughts and ideas centered around the reasons of the plague, reveals a basic need to understand, as well as to reflect on the fundamental questions; our relations with the divine, who we are, where we are going. Why is this happening to us? 

These notions are not restricted in any ways, not by space nor time. As a consequense, historical legends might be considered as gateways to a better understanding of how we as a joint mankind, at all times, reflect upon our existence.


Sources:

• Camilla Christensen. Against the might, ominous forces of nature... Nature, myth and national identity in the art of Theodor Kittelsen. In "Becoming the Forest", #2. A project by Una Hamilton Helle, co-edited with Lotte Brown, 2017

• Andreas Faye. Norske Folke-sagn. Norsk Folkeminnelags Forlag. Tredje Oplag. Oslo 1948.

• Ole Jørgen Benedictow. Svartedauen og senere pestepidemier i Norge. Unipub Forlag 2002.

• Reidar Th. Christensen. The Migratory Legends. Helsinki 1958

• Carl Herman Tillhagen. Sägner och folktro kring pesten. I Fataburen. Nordiska museets och Skansens årsbok 1967.

The Draug

It has been common belief that those whom were lost at sea – their final resting place being a wet grave, instead of consecrated soil – became outlawed wraiths, menacing to encounter, forecasting predictions of shipwrecks and drownings. In the fishing and coastal tradition along the northern Norwegian coast, the draug (Old Norse, draugr = Eng. corpse) practically a personification of all those who throughout the ages had ended their lives this way, never to be found again.

Most concentrated is the draft tradition around the areas for the two largest seasonal fishing in Northern Norway: Lofoten and Finmark. Fishing for cod in Lofoten starts in January and lasts until April. During this period, the fish searches for shore to spawn. Since the Viking era, these fisheries have been of great importance as the dried fish (stockfish) in pre-modern times was Norways by far the largest export economy.

Winter, Reine in Lofoten, painting by Norwegian artist Otto Sinding, 1894

According to Norwegian theologist and sociologist Eilert Sundt's (1817-1875) statistical surveys of the last century, 200 people drowned in the Tromsø Diocese (= the whole of Northern Norway) in 1863, which was a normal annual average. The year before, 95 boats were lost in the same diocese. The Lofoten fishing alone required 15-20 lives each year. In retrospect, the narrative tradition of the draug provides an understanding of the relentless and dangerous life along the Norwegian coast in ancient times. These stories are ultimately expressions of the collective anxiety for death and the ones lost at sea.

By appearance, the draug looked like an old-fashioned fisherman in leather coat, leather trousers, leather hat and rubber boots, yet his head was nothing seaweed, arms and legs were abnormally long compared to the rest of his body, and he sailed in half a boat. He was always alone on board and kept the same steady course as the fishermen. If he cried and shouted to them, they were wise not to answer, because then their boat would capsize. The calls sounded like screams of people in distress, and probably originated in rather tangible observations, whether coming from the boat vault or from birds or sea creatures. They were interpreted as warnings of storms and death, from which people adapted if they could.

The Sea Troll, illustration by Theodor Kittelsen 1887

A crew encountering the draug in his half-boat never arrived safely in port – many of the men even found themselves on their very last voyage. A more recent story, dating back to 1931, proclaims:

It was a winter day during the last fishing season, and lots of boats out and about. Then it suddenly a storm blew up, and everyone struggled hard to get ashore. One of the crews sailing at some distance from the others saw a boat they did not know, and looked more closely, they discovered that the boat was half. They realized it was the draug and that their chip was about to wreck. And so it did. the boat capsized during a surge, taking the lives of four men. Three survived, of which one of them later decided to tell the tale.

Source:

• Ørnulf Hodne (2012). Vetter og skrømt i norsk folketro. Cappelen. 

So they threw a wedding, and reveled and made merry, and fired off shots to scare away the troll hags.

In the old communities, throwing a wedding traditionally implied several days of costly and complex festivity, involving a network of customs and beliefs bearing different religious and social functions. If the primary purpose was to protect the bride and groom from temptations and dangers at a critical time, the church’s blessing simply did not bend. As the threats came from beings in which only the folk belief knew the means of defense.

Especially on the wedding day, the bride in particular found herself in a precarious situation. From the very moment she got up that day, and until she returned from church, the subterraneans crept about, trying to lure her from the wedding and into the mountain. Some stories tell of the girl voluntarily surrendering to the Mountain King. Other stories have a more heartbreaking approach; according to a legend from Notodden, a municipality in the southeastern part of Norway, the bride where on her way to the stave church of Heddal for the ceremony. As the bridal procession passed the mountain, the bride suddenly disappeared – the creatures got to her, locking her up in the stones. In order to call her back, the bells of the local church bells were put into use – however, the bell rope broke, and all to be heard from the girl was a distant cry from the innermost part of the mountain.

To prevent this from happening, the entourage was always arranged so that the bride along the way was surrounded by at least two bridal friends, who shot scarecrows over her head with pistols and guns, accompanied by shrieking and yelling from the other guests, making sure she was not captured by the mountain creatures, or – if passing a bridge – pulled underwater by the dreadful neck. As an extra safety precaution, the bride, as well as the groom, had a few silver shillings in their shoes, as the use of silver was known to scare the subterraneans away. If travelling by boat, the wedding couple with company was always situated in the first vessel, while blasts from the shotgun crackled and shrieked around them. 

Adolph Tidemand and Hans Gude (1848). Brudeferden i Hardanger 

(Bridal Procession on the Hardangerfjord). 

The Norwegian National Museum of Art, Architecture and Design

Source:

• Ørnulf Hodne (1999). Norsk Folketro. Cappelen