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 Play of the Wood Grouse

It's the autumnal equinox, marking the final end of summer, the coming of fall, and ultimately - the beginning of winter. On that occasion, I wish to share a poem, freely translated, by Norwegian artist Theodor Kittelsen.  This is the poem, and illustration, that concludes Kittelsen’s great work on the Black Plague (1900); a lone wood grouse takes centre stage. The dread and horror of the plague has left, and is replaced by the wistful voice of the fairy tale narrator. In making the bird a natural extension of the treetops, Kittelsen sustains its natural habitat in the Norwegian woods – together, they make one reflexive being. We see the stars twinkle faintly in the night sky, while the horizon gently begins to brighten - regardless of human demise, the light of day swiftly returns:

Where there is presently a forest, there was once a large village. People lived their lives there, and fields and meadows were lush and green with happy sounds of human voices and timbre from the bells of grazing cattle. Then, one day an ugly old hag came along, carrying with her a rake and a broom. Far, far from a distant land she came, and wherever she set foot, every soul perished within days. 

Not before long, only spirits of darkness were to remain in these cold, lonely lands. The 'Draugr' howled and screamed at sea, 'Nøkken' wailed in every tarn, and through the forests and from deep underground, the fairy folk came with laughter and dance, and then disappeared. 

But in the evening, when darkness fell, the mighty gates of the high mountain opened, and out trudged the large and shaggy trolls. High up in the spruce top the wood grouse sits attentive, listening in on the fairy tale. The evening turns to pitch-black night and the slumbering bird vanishes into darkness - only a great black canvas prevails, with the moon's yellow, wondering face, peering down onto the scenery. Yet, at the first break of dawn, the great bird fluffs its feathers and bellows out its wild song, above this solitary landscape with all its mysterious tales. 

Then, the wood grouse makes merry.

Theodor Kittelsen

Illustration to The Black Plague (1894-1896).

Wash technique, pencil, pen and black crayon on papir. 

The National Museum of Art, Oslo

Blind, hideous and dark as night, death wandered from farm to farm

What should I say? How do I start? Where am I to turn? Everywhere there is grief. Everywhere reigns anxiety and fear. I wish I was never born, or at least have been fortunate to die before this time. How will future generations be able to believe that once, there was a time when all people were dead, when the earth was without residents? When the terrible and infinite solitude prevailed?

Francesco Petrarca

September 1348:
The merchant ships that sailed from Oslo to ports in Southeast England is this time to return home with something quite other than the usual cargo of wheat, glassware, beer and wine; the crew tells stories about a plague so terrible that no one will ever live to hear about its equal. 
At this time, the norwegian population consists of  approximately 350 000 inhabitants. During a two year period, 220 000 of these will perish in a way that shall create a overwhelming anguish that is to torment the minds of men in the centuries that is to follow.

In Sweden it was called digerdöden, in England The Great Mortality, in Spain gran mortaldad, and in Norway storemannedouen - it was the great plague of men.  
 
Aching, stinging boils in the armpits, groin and neck, lung fire and ominous blue and purple spots appearing on the skin were some of the torments. "The spots are numbered" was the saying in Norway, which meant that time was running out. When the spots appeared, all hope was lost. Among the population, panic gradually grew stronger; to protect themselves against the terrifying plague, families and sometimes whole villages fled to the forest, to the mountain or other isolated locations. The stories exists about families who left their dying relatives behind,  about priests who did not dare to hear the last confessions - the sick were left entirely to themselves, to draw their last breath in fear and in solitude, secluded and deprived of any form of human dignity.

While historical documents can tell us much about past events, historical legends can tell us something about people's way of processing these events.  The morbid nature of the plague is reflected strongly in the folklore, and provides us with a good insight into how ordinary people experienced this sinister historical event. In Norwegian legends, the most know creature connected to the plague is the old hag named Pesta, carrying with her disease and death. She is not a witch, although people believed that witches could cause illness through sorcery.  Even though the witch casted her spells on her neighbors and caused disturbance and damage through her black magic, she was still part of the local community. The only time she left was when she were to participate in the witches' sabbath, wether it was at Lyderhorn in Norway, Blåkulla in Sweden, Blocksberg in Germany or Hekla in Iceland. Pesta however, lives nowhere. She is constantly on the move, and she is never personally known to her victims. She is a mythical creature, not of this world, yet she is not a familiar element in the nature and in nightlife like trolls, goblins and dwarves - she is special, unique in all her malice. 

Historian Olav Klonteig has written:

"It is significant that, besides satan, the normal cast of characters, trolls, nisser, tomtar, rån, etc., was not called on to explain plague. This indicates the immense, overwhelming force of the plague in rural Scandinavia and elsewhere in Europe: plague was so overpowering and so far outside the sphere of normal human experience that it simply had to come from outside the traditional cast of characters."

There are various descriptions of Pesta, though there are some characteristics that often recurs. Two of them is her rake and broom - were she used her rake, some were left lucky enough to live. Were she used her broom, people were killed by the thousands. She also uses a red skirt, which according to the folklore is a magical color, associated with witchcraft and the supernatural. A witch could for instance cause harm by throwing a curse so that the cows of her enemies would milk dark red blood. Ghosts resurrected from hell could also be dressed in red. Black, which was also used to describe the old hag, is commonly known to be connected with grief, death and funerals.

  

Theodor Kittelsen. Pesta i trappen (1896)

The famous Norwegian artist Theodor Kittelsen has perhaps created the spookiest, most defining image of Pesta. For many norwegians, his drawings remains to this day the most evocative visualization of the plague and its horror. Pesta i trappen ("Pesta in the stairs") is perhaps his most famous drawing of the old hag. Here we find ourselves at the top of the stairs in an old medieval timber house. The daylight seeps in through open cracks in the wood, in contrast to the immersive feeling of dread we are exposed to inside. Pesta creeps and crawls up the stairs with her pitch-dark eyes and scrawny hands, cloaked in the darkness that surrounds her. The perspective is placed fairly low, which makes the scene even more sinister - it is as if we are facing this dread through the eyes of a small child. We become so small and defenseless, and suddenly we know all too well, that there can be no escape. "They hide themselves in caves and canyons, chasing each other as wild animals. Pesta finds them, tracks them down," Kittelsen wrote. 

Man is left entirely to himself, without the possibility to mislead Pesta on her journey.

And even still, there is also human aspects of her; her job is to exterminate mankind. She is like a ghost, without rest, without sleep. In another of Kittelsens drawings, we find a tired and feverish figure on her journey of searching for new places to exterminate - the toil and effort from the burden she carries is weighing her down. Staring, almost in desperation, she leaves another village behind her. Over the mountains the fog creeps in on little cat feet, like a blanket to cover all places where life used to exist.

Through this drawing, Kittelsen is able to both visualize the disease itself, as well as the isolation and agony inflicted on so many countless souls. At the same time, he manages to make this pitch-black figure into a human being. For she too is a victim, doomed to roam the earth forever, with her rake and her broom.

Theodor Kittelsen. Pesta farer landet rundt (1904)