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. 

"Hear, smith of the heavens, what the poet asks": the story of Kolbeinn Tumason and Heyr Himna smiður

Born between 1171 and 1173, Kolbeinn Tumason of the Ásbirningar family, was one of the most powerful chieftains in Iceland at the turn of the 12th century. Kolbeinn used his power to get his own men into positions of power in the church - one of them was Gudmund Arasson, who had served as a priest for himself, and the uncle of his wife Gyðríði Þorvarðardóttur. In 1203, Arasson was elected bishop, and was expected to be a devoted and pious such; instead he worked actively to increase the church's power in society, and raised objections to the secular powers of the chieftains. This development Kolbeinn had not foreseen, and a conflict arose between the two men, steadily increasing during the next few years.

Already in 1205 the plot thickened, when Kolbeinn intervened as a judge in a criminal case against a priest. Gudmund refused to accept this verdict, believing that ecclesiastical affairs should remain at the hands of the Roman Catholic Church. Simultaneously, he forbade all his priests to be of any service to Kolbein.

In 1208, the dispute escalated to a maximum when Kolbeinn and his men arrested a priest in suspicion of abusing a woman. Near Hólar, the seat of the bishop, a final, lethal conflict ensued between Kolbeinn Tumason’s men, and the supporters of bishop Arasson. September 8th, 1208, in what posterity would come to know as the battle of Víðines, Kolbeinn lost his life, his head bashed in with a large rock.

Nowadays however, the once powerful chieftain is perhaps most known as a poet. Written the evening before the battle of Víðines, the hymn, Heyra Himna smiður (eng. "Hear, smith of the heavens"), ultimately became Kolbeinn’s swan song. The melody, which accompanies the text, was composed by Thorkell Sigurbjörnsson (1938–2013), over 700 years later. 

What was initially written as a prayer for strength and the mercy of God, Heyra Himna smiður remains as the oldest hymn still in use in Iceland. The following version, performed by the exquisite Eivør Pálsdóttir from the Farao Islands, underlines the peaceful and evocative spirit of this hymn, as a stark contrast to its dramatic backdrop. 

Hear, smith of the heavens,
what the poet asks.
May softly come unto me
thy mercy.
So I call on thee,
for thou hast created me.
I am thy slave,
thou art my Lord.

God, I call on thee
to heal me.
Remember me, mild one,
Most we need thee.
Drive out, O king of suns,
generous and great,
human every sorrow
from the city of the heart.

Watch over me, mild one,
Most we need thee,
truly every moment
in the world of men.
send us, son of the virgin,
good causes,
all aid is from thee,
in my heart. 

Sources:

• Anne Kristin Aasmundtveit (1995). Biografisk leksikon til Norsk Salmebok og Norsk Koralbok. Verbum: Oslo 
• Sturlungaslóð í Skagafirði. (The Sturlung Trail in Skagafjörður) A site dedicated to the history of in Skagafjordur. http://www.skagafjordur.is/sturlungaslod/sagan/asbirningar/kolbeinn-tumason  
• Sturlungaslóð í Skagafirði. (Information in English): http://www.skagafjordur.is/sturlungaslod/enska-sidan 
• Translation of these lyrics found at Wikipedia: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kolbeinn_Tumason [retrieved 29.01.2016]

The Midnight Mass of the Dead

There once was a woman from Stausland in the county of Vest-Agder, who was to attend the sermon on Christmas morning. In the middle of the night she woke up, and saw a light coming from inside the church. Not a single churchgoer was in sight.

Believing that she had overslept, she rushed out of bed, threw on her best coat, and hurried down to the church.

Once inside, the church was full of people as she had anticipated, but she wondered why she did not know any of those who were there. When the priest had stepped up to the pulpit, she cast a glance at the old woman who was sitting beside her. Rather bewildered, she saw that it was a neighbor of hers, who had passed away some time ago. “Get on your coat,” said the old hag, “and get out before the priest has finished his sermon. For this is the Mass of the dead, and they will kill you if they catch you here!”

The woman did as her neighbor had said. Not before she had stood up from her seat, they were after her. Just as she rushed out the door, they tore off her coat, and she ran home like crazy.

In the morning when people came to the church to attend the morning Mass, only bits of the coat were left behind on the church steps.

Abigel Stokkeland, (b. 1844), as told to Peter Lunde in 1919 

Just as she rushed out the door, they tore off her coat, 
and she ran home like crazy. Drawing by Vicent St. Lerche (1837-92)

Originating from the Germanic, Romance and Slavic region, The Midnight Mass of the Dead is a special form of legend, widely spread and communicated in a number of variants throughout Europe. The oldest version of the legend was recorded as early as in the 6th century, by the French bishop and historian Gregory of Tours, while in Norway it was first put in writing in the late 1700s, by the priest and scientist Hans Jacob Wille. 

Although existing in a multitude of national and local variants, the core of the legend commonly remains the same:

A man or a woman is mistaken about the time of day (possibly due to the long, dark winters of Northern Europe), and find themselves attending a Mass in the middle of the night. They then discover that both the priest and the congregation are ghosts. They are then warned by a deceased acquaintance participating in the Mass, and flee out of the church. In most variants the protagonist gets out of there alive, yet the final outcome may also be fatal.

Sometimes these incidents occur at New Years or Midsummer Eve, at other times on a Thursday or on a Sunday. Most commonly, however, it is at Christmas Night in which the Midnight Mass of the Dead takes place. The reason for this mainly stems from the old belief that ghosts and spirits belonged to the darkness; it was therefore natural to consider them increasingly present during the darkest times of the year. In the long, cold months of the Nordic winter, the dead exercised a greater authority, and therefore did not emerge as invisible beings from a distant sphere. They existed, on the contrary, as highly corporal representations of their former self, appearing substantially as they did while still being alive.

It is not unreasonable to imagine that the modern conception of the undead, widely communicated by the popular culture (the examples ranging from The Night of the Living dead, to American Horror Story and The Legend of Sleepy Hollow), might be highly influenced by the ghosts in this narrative tradition. As initially told by Abigel Stokkeland, they are often portrayed as rather evil, quarrelsome beings who become infuriated with the poor wretch who are so unfortunate to stray into the church, interrupting their Midnight Mass. Several records informs of the undead clinging to peoples’ backs, tearing of their clothes, pinching and causing disease. In many of the stories, the protagonist cast of their coats, leaving it to be ripped apart by the undead, a maneuver that is performed as a way of deluding the ghosts. When the tattered clothes are later on retrieved, they have most likely provided a tiny glimpse of what might have happened to the poor soul unfortunate enough not to get away. 

For these stories exist as well – of the undead, taking lives.

A legend from Lapland tells for instance of a priest and a sacristan who made a bet about who dared to go into the church during the Midnight Mass of the Dead. First went the sacristan. He saved his life by ringing the church bells. Shortly thereafter, the priest went in. He entered the pulpit, and gave a sermon. The undead however, could not care less about this gesture, and they tore the priest into shreds. The next morning, when people arrived to church, only the intestines remained after the late priest, carefully swirled around the pillars.

Notions like these have existed for centuries, and are to be found even in the Norse folklore. In the Icelandic Grettis saga, we learn about Grettir Ásmundarson, a belligerent giant who gets into a fight with an undead being – a draug – named Glåm. Before he falls for Grettis sword, the revenant pronounces a curse upon his rival:

I also lay this curse on you, that these eyes that I bring to bear on you will always be in your sight, and you will find it hard to be on your own, and this will bring you to your death.

In the aftermath, Grettir’s already difficult temperament deteriorates further, and he finds himself burdened by disabling anxieties about being alone at the approach of darkness. He incurs outlawry and is forced to live in solitude for the rest of his life. 

[...] Grettir ran under his hands and gripped him round the middle, and bent back his spine as hard as he might, and his mind it was that Glam should shrink thereat; but the thrall lay so hard on Grettir's arms, that he shrank all aback because of Glam's strength. Artist unkown

In another Icelandic saga, the Eyrbyggja saga, (eng. 'The Saga of the People of Eyri') we learn that strange and sinister things have happened on the farm of Frodå, after a shepherd was found dead and buried by the church grounds. One night, a man named Tore Wooden-Leg went out to do his business, and encountered the shepherds’ ghost. Desperately, Tore tried to get away, yet the shepherd came after him and beat him to the ground. Shortly thereafter, Tore got black as coal all over his body, and lastly passed away. From that moment on, the two of them always appeared together – the shepherd and Tore Wooden-Leg. And, as one might expect, scaring people completely out of their wits. 

A Swedish version, rendered by the Danish folklore researcher Henning Fr. Feilberg (1831-1921), tells the story of a man riding past a church on Christmas Eve. There where obviously someone in there, for the windows were lit, and he could hear the undead and their tormented song:

Our bones are fragile, our life is over – we soulless beings await the coming of judgment day.

These words reflect another important aspect of this narrative tradition; the horror stories of angry undead aside, far more often these legends actually communicate an increasingly redeeming form of substance. As this little example from Sweden shows us, the ghosts actively seek redemption from their dreary circumstances, by participating in a Christian Mass almost identical to those of the living. In some cases, their appeals are also granted. 

A legend from Østerdalen in Norway tells for instance about a ghost who receives help from a girl, in order to make amends for his past wrongdoings. He was an evil man while being alive, and tormented all of his three wives, who are now deceased and participating in the Mass of the dead. He himself is not allowed to enter the church, he confides to the girl, but is doomed to remain at the cemetery for all eternity. He pleas the girl to go into the church, and ask each one of his former wives for forgiveness on his behalf – for this is the only way he can find peace, he says. And so the girl does as she is asked.
 
Afterwards, the man stands waiting for her on the outside. 
'What happened?' he asks. 
'They forgave you, all three of them, and they shook my hand on it,' she says.
'Oh, God bless you!' the man exclaims. 'Now I can finally be at peace!'
 
And then, in the blink of an eye, he is gone.

Sources:

• Brynjulf Alver (1950). 'Daudinggudstenesta: ein europeisk førestillingskrins i norsk tradisjon'. I Arv: Scandinavian Yearbook of Folklore.
• Ørnulf Hodne (1999). Norsk folketro. Cappelen: Oslo. 
• Grettir's Saga. English, transl. William Morris & Eirikr Magnusson. Retrieved from the Icelandic Saga Database. URL: http://www.sagadb.org/grettis_saga.en
• Norsk Folkeminnesamling: ml4015. De dødes messe. Id: SIN228. År: 1919. Sted: Søgne, Vest-Agder. Informant: Abigel Stokkeland, f. 1844. Samler: Peter Lunde
• Russell Poole. 'Myth, Psychology, and Society in Grettis Saga'. In Alvissmál; nr 11 (2004). URL: http://userpage.fu-berlin.de/~alvismal/11gretti.pdf