When the sea rises, it disappears from sight, as if hidden by the waves, then to resurface again...

Along the coasts of Norway, Sweden and Denmark there are legends telling of uknown lands – called hulderlands - usually invisible to human eyes, but which at certain times appeared from the sea. In the old Gutasaga from approx. 1300, it is told that Gotland was originally such a land, first located by a man named Tjelvar: "Gotland was such an elvenland, it sank during the day and resurfaced at night, Tjelvar however, brought fire to the land, and it never sunk again."

As a rule, these islands rose into the light of day with the help of fire, steel or the sign of the cross, as the legend recounts. Yet out of fear for retaliation from invisible, might forces, the acquisition usually takes place by the help of a domestic animal – a horse, ox or pig – which accidentally found its way to the land. The owner notices that the animal repeatedly disappears, ties a piece of steel to it, and in so doing finds his way to the promised lands.

Norwegian geographer Amund Helland (1846-1918) wrote that the legends may have been influenced by crustal rebounds dating from prehistoric times, which people must have come across and pondered over. The origin for them, however, is most likely the widespread notion of a paradise island far out in the sea in the west, recounted in the classic tradition of Atlantis, the mythical island kingdom that vanished in the sea in one single night.

In Norwegian territory, these notions are most clearly formed in the fishing legends of Utrøst and Utvega, beautiful and resource-rich elvenlands so far out to sea that they were sheltered from humans and animals. In Norwegian writer Diderik Brinck's (1631-1685) Latin description of the Lofoten islands, Prodromus e Norvegia, sive Descriptio Loufodiæ, from 1676 it is written that

the inhabitants of Røst looks to the west and spots another island, called Utrøst, about 20 miles in circumference, which when the sea rises, it disappears from sight, as if hidden by the waves, then to resurface again. In Nordland, such a land is called huldreland-land (elvenland).

In 1849, Norwegian scholar and collector of folklore, P. Chr. Asbjørnsen (1812-1885) wrote about the same island in the introduction to the legend of "Skarvene fra Utrøst" (Eng. The Cormorants of Utrøst):

Upon their return, it is not uncommon for the Nordland fishermen to find grain straw attached to the rudder or barley grain in the fish's stomach. Then it is believed, they have sailed over Utrøst or another of the invisible islands, spoken of in the legends of the northern lands. They come into view only to pious and far-sighted people, who are in danger of death at sea, and appear where no other land exists. The subterranians, who live there, holds kettles, poultry and fisheries like other people; yet the sun shines over greener meadows and richer fields than anywhere else in the Northlands, and happy is he who comes to, or may see, one of these sunlit islands; "he is berga," says the northerner.

To berge is a term which may be interpreted in two ways. In the common folk belief, the idea that the subterraneans could lure people into their realm - bergta, was well established. In this sense, it means to capture. On the other hand, to berge also means to save, to rescue. Berg literally means mountain. 

Utrøst is told to be several miles offshore Røst, how far no one knows for sure, and many have searched for the island without finding it. Yet the tradition also contains many accounts of sailors and fishermen in distress at sea, to whom the land suddenly appeared to and provided salvation and shelter until the storm had subsided.

Hans Gude (1878/79) "When he got closer, there were only three cormorants sitting on a piece of driftwood." Illustration for 'The Cormorants of Utrøst' in P. Chr. Asbjørnsen, Norske Folke- og Huldre-Eventyr i Udvalg, Kjøbenhavn 1879

Sources:

• Ørnulf Hodne. Norsk folketro. Cappelen, 1999

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. 

The Kalevala

Mastered by desire impulsive,
By a mighty inward urging,
I am ready now for singing,
Ready to begin the chanting
Of our nation's ancient folk-song
Handed down from by-gone ages.
In my mouth the words are melting,
From my lips the tones are gliding,
From my tongue they wish to hasten;
When my willing teeth are parted,
When my ready mouth is opened,
Songs of ancient wit and wisdom
Hasten from me not unwilling.

Ilmatar, maiden of air, painted by Finnish artist

Robert Wilhelm Ekman (1860)

Written by Finnish physician and philologist Elias Lönnrot (1802-1884), the epic poem Kalevala has a great influence on Finnish art and society. Carried out through several stages, the work was first published in 1835.

The poem is partly a heroic tale, partly an epic about the world's creation and the origin of Finnish culture, as well as a depiction of customs and way of life in ancient times. The old sage Väinämöinen is present in most parts of Kalevala, playing a variety of roles. He is the son of the Ilmatar, maiden of air – his magic birth is depicted in the first of Kalevala's 50 songs, and he then assists in the creation of the world. 

Väinämöinen is a warrior and a cultural hero, a wizard who can perform miracles with his songs. He is also a shaman who can travel to the underworld and back. He is an unsuccessful lover- the young maiden Aino even drowns herself, rather than be married to Väinämöinen. However, she returned to taunt the grieving Väinämöinen as a salmon.

The poem contains several myths of origin; first, the creation of the world, but also stories about how fire, beer, iron, the kantele (a Finnish plucked string instrument) and diseases are introduced to mankind. There are also myths about how the sun and moon are set free from captivity in the mountains of Pohjola. Several sections portray the relationship between Kalevala and Pohjola - the northern lands representing "the others," characterized by cold and sorcery, ruled by a Louhi, a wicked queen. In the course of action, Väinämöinen is at first friends with Louhi; but after he and Lemminkäinen rob the magic mill Sampo from its dwellings in Pohjola, enmity naturally arises. Within the ethnographic sections, there are distinctive depictions of weddings and bear hunting and reproductions of magic formulas. 

The title Kalevala in fact constitutes a place name, which is rarely found in folk poetry – directly translated, it means "The Land of Kaleva". Kaleva was a mysterious giant barely mentioned in the songs, yet whom Lönnrot nonetheless looked upon as a real person; a chief whom had once led his people to the Finnish mainland, like Moses had led Israelites to the Promised Land. 

Aino Myth, Triptych, painted by Finish artist Akseli Gallen-Kallela (1891), showing his failed marriage proposal and Aino's suicide

Swedes we are no more, Russians we will not be - let us be Finns

The creation of the Kalevala must be reviewed in the light of Lönnrot’s day and age. Born in 1802 in the south of Finland, his interest in folklore was early established. After Finland became a Russian principality in 1809, the substantially Swedish speaking cultural elite grew isolated from the culture life in Sweden. The solution was to turn to Finnish culture and language, in order to gaining a sense of identity, of pride and belonging - in other words, establishing a Finnish nation. The new ideas were expressed in the motto "Swedes we are no more, Russians we will not be, let us be Finns."

A central element of romantic nationalism, or national romanticism, was the infatuation for an (more or less) imaginative glorious past, conveyed through ancient heroic tales, folk songs and sagas. In Norway, one sought inspiration and national self-esteem from the literary works of Edda and the Norse sagas, which admittedly was written down by Icelanders, but largely centered around Norwegians. Finland had no recorded saga literature, and how conditions had been in Finland before Christianity remained uncertain.

The nearest possible source for such knowledge, aside from a few historical documents, were found in the so-called runic poetry. This is a separate Finnish category within folk poetry, named after runo, which once meant “skald” (Eng. "poet"), and later "poetry". The runo poetry consisted of songs, as well as incantations, which were not sung, but recited - "read".

It was the epic runo songs, those that spoke of mythical heroes, that aroused the greatest interest. The content must nonetheless have seemed confusing to the scholarly Finnish elite of Lönnrot's time, with knowledge of epic poems of other countries, such as The Works of Ossian in Scotland, Beowulf in England, as well as the Germans' Nibelungenlied. However, where these epics told of kings and aristocratic knights in a warlike world, the Finnish folk poetry were about peasants, hunters and fishermen in a world of magic and sorcery. 

A Child of Romantisicm - and Enlightenment 

When Lönnrot was 26 years old and still a poor student, he embarked on his first collection journey, making his first notes. Unlike most of the cultural elite, his mother tongue was Finnish, not Swedish, which made it easier for him to instill confidence among the peasants, having them sing and tell their stories. It was not something they did to anyone, as songs and incantations of pagan origin were deemed shameful. When he began medical studies in Helsinki in 1828, Lönnrot was given the opportunity to immerse himself in folk medicine and set out on the first of a total of 11 collecting missions, mostly in Karelia (currently divided among the northwestern Russian Federation and Finland). 

Professor Elias Lönnrot, painted by 

Bernhard Reinhold (1872),

Helsingsfors museum

Much of Lönnrot's life work consisted in public education, to lift especially the peasant population out of poverty, disease, filth and ignorance. Later, as a district physician, superstition and sorcery, which were still important components of folk medicine, annoyed him, while his inner folklorist was fascinated by the same phenomena. As a child of both Romantisicm and the Enlightenment, he had an attraction to the mysterious and enigmatic in popular culture, while simultaneously being a respected scientist. Lönnrot did not believe in the magic power of the spell, yet may have muttered an occasional incantation while treating superstitious and fearful farmers, to make them feel secure.

Lönnrot had many aspirations with the Kalevala. An important part of that project was to give a comprehensive image of the Finnish people, in celebration and in everyday life – at least as Lönnrot imagined it to have been in the old days - and as it could still be in the East Finnish and Keral countryside of his time. In several parts of the work, women’s place in society is evident, where mothers appear to play the most important role in the family in terms of managing and mentoring sons and daughters. Fathers are virtually absent. This aspect reflects actual conditions in the East Finnish and Karelian communities, where the mother played the dominant role in the family; among other things, she was the one deciding whom her daughters were allowed to marry.

On one level, the Kalevala depicts a society characterized by hard work, harsh words and tough love. At the same time, there is a much mystery in the poem; the storyline rarely follows the laws of logic. It is the logic of dreams that prevails, where inanimate objects can speak, and humans can readily transform into animals. His interest for folk medicine is to a large extent also reflected in the Kalevala, as the work contains many incantations, as well as descriptions of healing and prevention of illness. The heroes of Kalevala are not heroes because they capable swordsmen, but because they are skilled in sorcery. When singing in the Kalevala, it usually involves wielding the song as a magic instrument, not to create beautiful music. In the old Finnish agrarian community, knowledge of the old songs and the incantations implied an ability to rule the world. 

The Defense of the Sampo (1896) by Finnish painter Akseli Gellen-Kallela. 

The scene portrayed is taken from the 43rd song of the epic, where the hero Väinämöinen, seen wielding a sword, has stolen the precious artifact Sampo from the evil witch Louhi, and she, having taken the form of a giant bird, is trying to reclaim it. The battle for the Sampo is also given a deeper connotation as a battle for the soul of Finland.

The fact that the Finns were skilled sorcerers was well known to Norwegians in the Viking era, if one is to believe Snorri Sturluson. In the saga of the Saintly Olav, he describes how  King Olav ravaged the Finnish coast, encountering resistance from the locals. When the Norwegian Vikings finally had to flee, the retreat was close to failure, due to a sudden severe storm. Nowadays we would probably say that they had bad luck with the weather, but according to Snorri, it was the Finns who had created the storm, with the help of sorcery.

In some Icelandic sagas - that is, ancient and often imaginative sagas originating from Scandinavia - there are some striking parallels to Finnish mythology. It often involves journeys to a magical land in the north, where the trolls live. It's about stealing back a treasure, an ornate golden egg, about rescuing a beautiful maiden, about being persecuted and attacked by a winged monster on the way back. And so on. Finnish researchers have explained that the similarities between the ancient sagas and Finnish folklore exist due to legends and fairytales that have come from Scandinavia to the Finnish area during the Iron Age – as a result of trade.

Professor Anna-Leena Siikala, however, advocated that the ancient sagas telling of the mysterious place Trollebotn originate in the stories the Vikings heard on their travels to Finnish areas, and that the stories have thus traveled the opposite way. There may also be another possibility; whether the Scandinavians came to Finland to ravage or trade, they gladly brought young girls home with them, either as wives, concubines or slaves. As a result of these circumstances, a great deal of these girls had children, telling them stories they had brought with them from their childhood home. These stories in turn were passed on by their children, to their children, often mixed with tales their fathers had told about their adventurous journeys. Stories that in turn became ancient sagas, written down in the 13th century.

Folklore - or fakelore?

Later research on the poem has been concerned with the relationship between the collected folklore and Lönnrot's edits, and to what extent Lönnrot believed he reconstructed a comprehensive, authentic epic. One notable feature with the Kalevala is that Lönnrot washed away all traces of Christian influence – names of saints and references to orthodox religious practices – from the texts he made use of. He wanted to create an image of a mythical, religious-religious pagan Finnish culture from the time before Christianity’s accession. Of that reason, the view on Lönnrot's role as the originator has changed since Kalevala first came out. His contemporaries saw him as an editor more than a poet, and at Kalevala as an anthology of folk songs. Today, the epic is regarded as Lönnrot's main work of literary fiction. Although American folklorist Alan Dundes in 1985 described Kalevala as "fakelore", Lönnrot took meticulous care of his notes so that posterity could study them and compare with the final result.

When he was this thorough in documenting the source material, he probably had the fate of James Macpherson (1736-1796) in mind. The Scottish poet in 1760 published a collection of allegedly authentic Gaelic folk songs, translated into English, known as The Works of Ossian. The publication became immensely popular in many countries, but at Lönnrot's time it had become evident that most of the work was a product of Macpherson's own imagination. What might have been genuine folk songs in Ossian's epic poems could not be verified, for Macpherson had no specific sources to show for. On his part, Lönnrot made sure that he did, although he rarely noted the source of a distinct material – however, this was the usual approach in Lönnrot's time. One explanation is that the individual source was unimportant, as the songs from the contemporary view virtually had arisen from the very "depth" of the common folk. Another explanation, as Lönnrot himself mentioned, is that the sources themselves wanted to remain anonymous.

In sum, the Kalevala remains a respectable artistic presentation of the Finnish runo tradition. Several writers have in turn been inspired by Lönnrot’s work, of which the most famous is most likely to be a man named John Ronald Reuel Tolkien (1892-1973). The fascination of the Kalevala, Tolkien shared with his good friend C.S. Lewis (1898-1963), known for his books about Narnia; it hardly coincidental that the white witch whom at some point ruled Narnia - with frost as her weapon - bears some resemblance to Louhi, the ruler of Pohjola.

In 2016, the first known manuscript Tolkien wrote, sometime between 1912 and 1916, was published for the first time. The title is Kullervo, and is Tolkien's own version of the story of Kullervo, as he had come to know it from Kalevala. Also included in the book are notes for a lecture he gave on the Kalevala, describes the encounter with the epic as coming to a new world:

After the country and its manners have become better known to you, and you have got on speaking terms with the natives, you will, I hope, find it jolly to live awhile with this strange people and these new gods, with this race of unhypocritical low-brow scandalous heroes, and sadly unsentimental lovers - some there may be who will think with regret that they have ever to go back from that land at all. 

Väinämöinen's farewell, painting by Akseli Gallen-Kallela (1906) - depicting the scene of the last of the songs, where the old sorcerer leaves his country, leaving it to the new king, Väinämöinen farewell depicting the scene in the last of the songs, where the old sorcerer leaves his land, and leave it to the new king, a virgin son with distinct commonalities with Jesus Christ.

The Kalevala (translations)

• A Guide to Kalevala: https://kalevalaseura.fi/en/about-kalevala/what-happens-in-the-kalevala/  
• The Kalevala, translated by John Martin Crawford [1888]: https://www.sacred-texts.com/neu/kveng/index.htm

Source:

• Elias Lönnrot, Kalevala. Gjendiktet av Mikael Holmberg, med innledning av Mikael Holmberg. Orkana, 2017.