Arv Nordic Yearbook of Folklore 2012 2 3 ARVARV Nordic Yearbook of Folklore Vol

Home , Axel Olrik, Kaarle Krohn, Mats Nilsson, Stith Thompson

1 Arv Nordic Yearbook of Folklore 2012 2 3 ARVARV Nordic Yearbook of Folklore Vol. 68

Editor ARNE BUGGE AMUNDSEN OSLO, NORWAY

Editorial Board Anders Gustavsson, Oslo; Gustav Henningsen, Copenhagen Bengt af Klintberg, Lidingö; Ann Helene Bolstad Skjelbred, Oslo Ulrika Wolf-Knuts, Åbo (Turku)

Published by THE ROYAL GUSTAVUS ADOLPHUS ACADEMY UPPSALA, SWEDEN

Printed with grants from Vetenskapsrådet (Swedish Research Council), Stockholm, Sweden

Articles appearing in this yearbook are abstracted and indexed in Historical Abstracts and America: History and Life 1998– Editorial address: Prof. Arne Bugge Amundsen Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages University of Oslo Box 1010 Blindern NO–0315 Oslo, Norway phone + 4722857629 fax + 4722854828 http://www.hf.uio.no/ikos/forskning/publikasjoner/tidsskrifter/arv/index.html Cover: Kirsten Berrum For index of earlier volumes, see http://www.kgaa.nu/tidskrift.php

Distributor Swedish Science Press Box 118, SE–751 04 Uppsala, Sweden phone: +46(0)18365566 fax: +46(0)18365277 e-mail: [email protected]

Printed in Sweden Textgruppen i Uppsala AB, Uppsala 2012 5 Contents

Articles Ane Ohrvik: “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers”. Religious Encounters in Early Modern Norwegian Black Books ...... 7 Nils-Arvid Bringéus: “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden as the Chief Centre of Folklore-work” ...... 27 Terry Gunnell: Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth- Century Iceland ...... 45 Arne Bugge Amundsen: The Folk in the Church. Magnus Brostrup Landstad (1812–1880) as a Clerical Folklore Collector ...... 67 Bjarne Rogan: An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists. A Biographical Sketch of Reidar Th. Christiansen (1886–1971) . . 91 B. Marcus Cederström: Folkloristic Koinés and the Emergence of Swedish-American Ethnicity ...... 121 John Ødemark: Narrating Magic, Re-visioning Historiography. On Stephen A. Mitchell’s Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages ...... 151

Book Reviews Andresen, Jesper Graubæk: Formbegreber i spil (Sven-Erik Klinkmann) ...... 165 Biskop, Gunnel: Dansen för åskådare (Egil Bakka) ...... 169 Christiansen, Palle Ove: De forsvundne. Hedens siste fortællere (Anders Gustavsson) ...... 170 Fingerroos, Outi: Karjala utopiana “Narratives around Karelia- nism?” (Terhi Pietiläinen) ...... 171 Gerber, Sofi: Öst är väst, men Väst är bäst. Östtysk identitetsformering i det förenade Tyskland (Ulrika Wolf-Knuts) ...... 173 Gustavsson, Anders: Cultural Studies on Death and Dying in Scandinavia (Ritwa Herjulfsdotter) ...... 175 Gustavsson, Anders: The folk-life artist Carl Gustaf Bern- 6 hardson (Mats Nilsson) ...... 177 Kaplan, Merrill: Thou Fearful Guest. Addressing the past in four tales in Flateyjarbók (Gísli Sigurdsson) ...... 178 Klinkmann, Sven-Erik: I fänrikarnas, martallarnas och dixi- tigrarnas land (Patrik Sandgren) ...... 181 af Klintberg, Bengt: The Types of the Swedish Folk Legend (Camilla Asplund Ingemark) ...... 183 Lakomäki, Sami, Pauliina Latvala & Kirsi Laurén (eds.): Tekstien rajoilla [Toolbox for Methodological Thinking] (Erkka Pehkonen) ...... 183 Liliequist, Marianne & Karin Lövgren (eds.): Tanten, vem är hon? (Lena Marander-Eklund) ...... 187 Mikkola, Kati: Tulevaisuutta vastaan [Against the Future] (Leena Rossi) ...... 188 Mustakallio, Marja: Musik på gränsen (Gunnar Ternhag) ...... 191 Nagel, Erik: I dialog med muntliga och skriftliga berättar- traditioner (Ulf Palmenfelt) ...... 193 Nielsen, Niels Kayser: Historiens forvandlinger. Historiebrug fra monumenter til oplevelseøkonomi (Fredrik Skott) ...... 198 Nilsson, Gabriella: Könsmakt eller häxjakt? (Birgitta Meurling) . . . 200 Pöysä, Jyrki, Helmi Järviluoma & Sinikka Vakimo (eds.): Vael- tavat metodit [A Traveller’s Guide to the Methodology of Cultural Research] (Sofia Kotilainen) ...... 202 Ruusuvuori, Johanna, Pirjo Nikander & Matti Hyvärinen (eds.): Haastattelm analyysi [Analysing an Interview] (Pia Olsson) . . . . 204 Selberg, Torunn: Folkelig religiøsitet (Anders Gustavsson) ...... 206 Schön, Ebbe: Fotspår på röd granit (Anders Gustavsson) ...... 208 Sjöberg, Maria & Birgitta Svensson (eds.): Svenskfinska relationer (Eva Helen Ulvros) ...... 210 Takala, Hannu: Karjalan museot [The Secrets of the Lost Ark – Museums in Karelia] (Terhi Pietiläinen) ...... 212

Books Received by the Editor ...... 215 “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” 7 “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” Religious Encounters in Early Modern Norwegian Black Books

Ane Ohrvik

In modern research on witchcraft there is general consensus that the theological and juridical beliefs and positions with respect to the Devil’s existence and interaction with humans had a decisive role for the witch hunt in early modern Europe (see e.g. Clark 2002; Levack 2006; Mitchell 2011). From being portrayed in the doctrine by the church father Augustine in the fourth and fifth centuries as a subordinate figure to the almighty God, with powers that were a mere illusion, the Devil slowly emerged from being an imaginary figure to become a creature whose spirit could occupy the human body and do evil things. Even though the theological directive of Canon Episcopi, disseminated from the tenth century onwards, to a certain degree followed Augustine, the Devil acquired a more ambiguous position which opened for further developments: the Devil and the demons produced diabolic deceptions and illusions which deceived evil women into believing they could ride on animals at night. When Thomas Aquinas in the thirteenth century comments on the demon’s power in the doctrine commonly called “the absolute doctrine”, which was to be cited numerous times in later works on witchcraft, the Devil had developed from being primarily spiritual to being a physical creature: “The Catholic learning explains that demons have the ability to harm by their actions and hinder sexual intercourse” (Baroja 1987:36).1 During the most intensive period of the witch hunts in Western Europe (1550–1700) the diabolical element served as one of the most central arguments in the burning of witches. The diabolic pact that was believed to have been made between the witch and the Devil so that the witch could obtain earthly fortune, wealth and powers provided the witch trials and the prosecutors with deadly ammunition. In Denmark, the theologian Niels Hemmingsen (1513–1600), who gained European attention and fame during his lifetime, summed up what would become the dominant view among intellectuals of the Devil’s position in Denmark-Norway in the following cen- 8 Ane Ohrvik tury when he proclaimed that “the Devil is behind” all sorts of magical practice. In Admonitio de superstitionibus magicus vitandis, first published in 1575, he explained how human beings alone were not able to use magical powers and perform magical art; it was the Devil who helped in doing the magic work (Gilje 2003:202–205).2 While witchcraft beliefs, especially among the common people, did not end with the decline in witchcraft prosecutions in the eighteenth century it was, nevertheless, in part theologians and legal intellectuals who had occupied the same positions during the witch hunt who now raised doubts about the reality of witchcraft and the Devil’s power and existence that eventually drained the diabolical argument concerning witchcraft. As Robert Muchem- bled puts it in his comprehensive study of the history of the Devil, “The Eu- rope of Enlightenment, in contrast, saw the twilight of the devil and the retreat of the horned Lucifer…” (Muchembled 2003:7). This brief presentation of the history of the Devil serves as a background to the “life” the Devil took on in the eighteenth century. While most theologians and intellectuals spoke from new positions where the Devil was reduced to superstitious beliefs among the peasants, the Devil was still very much alive and active, if we judge from the black books in Norway. In these writings, the Devil represents both a power that people had to protect themselves from, and simultaneously a force to take advantage of and engage for personal purposes. How can the position of the Devil in the black books be understood? The article will start by contextualizing the Norwegian black book production before turning to a close reading of two types of texts in one particular black book; the paratexts that illuminate the writer’s interpretation of the knowledge presented in the book and the charms constituting the main content of the black book.

Norwegian Black Books The rich collection of black books found in Norway testifies to a widespread and vibrant writing which continued to be produced throughout the early modern period and during most of the nineteenth century.3 Including advice and recipes on topics such as sickness in humans and livestock, how to achieve luck in love, hunting, battles, games and trials, how to prepare do- mestic articles such as ink, paint and salmiac, and how to protect the household against witches and bewitchment, the books are rich sources for a variety of topics; book history and manuscript culture, early modern medical practices and beliefs, practical knowledge in general, and witchcraft beliefs. The strong influence of magical-religious beliefs and practices in the books was also the main reason for the earliest studies of these manuscripts conducted by the Norwegian Church historian Anton C. Bang (1840–1913) (see Bang 1890, 1901). In the early twentieth century, the Nordic counterparts of “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” 9 these books (Danish Svartebog, Swedish Svartkonstbok) along with other corresponding sources were also objects of extensive interest among scholars in the Nordic countries, who made considerable contributions to their collection, systematization, and interpretation (Ohrt 1917, 1921, 1927; Forsblom 1927; Linderholm 1940; Rääf 1957). Focusing on evolution, popular magical beliefs and practices and their relation to religion and folk medicine, these studies established solid grounds for later studies of this material and their corresponding academic fields (e.g. Edsman 1963; Klintberg 1965; Grambo 1979; Johnson 2010). This article will follow suit with one of these analytical perspectives, focusing on the kind of religious beliefs and practices Norwegian black books express by comparing different extracts found in one black book entitled Cÿprianus Konstbog (Cyprian Art Book), which can be dated to the second half of the eighteenth century. I have recently studied the material and textual features of Norwegian black books, focusing on how knowledge is presented and authorized in the paratextual elements of the manuscripts (Ohr- vik 2012). Paratexts, as understood in accordance with the literary theorist Gérard Genette, are those verbal or other products which surround and extend the text in order to present it and make it present (Genette 1997). They make up the outskirts of the book, “an ‘undefined zone’ between the inside and the outside, a zone without any hard or fast boundary on either the in- ward side (turned toward the text) or the outward side (turned toward the world’s discourse about the text)” (Genette 1997:2). Consequently, all text elements which present or comment on either the content of the book or other circumstances, such as the title, preface, introduction, table of contents and paragraph headings constitute the paratext. The generic relationship between black books, defined by the structure, composition, and content, earned their joint designating title Svartebogen (The Black Book) or Cÿpri- anus Konstbog (Cyprian Art Book) first and foremost among the writers themselves who entitled their works. As such, the writers of the black books were conscious of the type or genre of book they were making, but also, as can be assumed, considered and respected the conventions belonging to this particular genre. My research is motivated by the fact that these paratextual elements have never been objects of systematic study before, even though they constitute considerable amounts of text in many Norwegian black books and are – I argue – key elements in the understanding of how the writers wanted the books to be conceived and the knowledge to be conceptualized. But how do these paratexts stand in relation to the main body of text in Cÿprianus Konst- bog? How does the writer interpret and “translate” the knowledge presented in the book when presenting the intended readership and use of the book, especially considering the charms in the book which describe the use of diabolic powers? 10 Ane Ohrvik Cÿprianus Konstbog is a book in octavo of thirty-three leaves and altogether sixty-six pages, of which sixty-four are written. It has a stiff card- board binding and cover and the pages are paginated from 1–69, except for pages 55–56 which are missing. Apart from this single leaf, the book appears to be complete and consists of a wide range of paratextual elements such as main titles, short titles (abbreviated, on the cover), inscriptions, preface, and tables of contents, illustrations, and numbered paragraph headings. The main content of the book consists of advice, recipes, and charms in a variety of topics. The book was donated to the University Library in Oslo in the mid-twentieth century after having been part of the book collector Johan Elias Schweigaard’s (1846–1919) extensive collection, inherited by his son. Information concerning who wrote the book and when is lacking for Cÿprianus Konstbog. These types of provenance records are commonly ab- sent or insufficient in most of these manuscripts. What can be established, though, is that the writer was skilled in writing and must have received some sort of education during his lifetime. As such, the writer fits the general writer profile of Norwegian black book writers of the eighteenth century (Ohrvik 2012:56–60).

Intended Reading and Use of Cÿprianus Konstbog – The Paratexts One of the main purposes of paratexts is to provide reading instructions for the book they present. Titles, for instance, commonly reveal the subject of the text that follows while the preface, as Genette states, “has as its chief function to ensure that the text is read properly” by stating the main purpose and use of the book and why a potential reader should spend time reading it (Genette 1997:197). Providing arguments for the reader in terms of why one should or could read the book, who should read it and how it was to be read, are all themes that are addressed in the titles and prefaces of Cÿprianus Konstbog and provide essential keys to the internal and external textual conceptualizing of the book. Half-way through the preface of Cÿprianus Konstbog on 2r the writer provides the first hints as to why the book should be read by declaring that: Those who love the sciences can therefore assimilate Cyprian both for benefit and rarity, and as a sanctuary live well!”4 That the black book brings “benefit” speaks to the conceptions of usefulness of the knowledge presented in the book, whereas being a “rarity” and a “sanctuary” relates the content to a particular tradition in which the knowledge of the book stands and to a religious context as part of a pious lifestyle. Similar wordings also appear in several other black books.5 “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” 11 The statement also explicitly appeals to the “science-loving” reader and even though it does not exclude other type of readers, it is only this particular group that is officially addressed. The intended “science-loving” readership in Cÿprianus Konstbog is repeated, yet further specified in the third synopsis title on 30v, which announces: The third part of Cyprian once again arranged after the original for all honest Christian and science-loving readers.6 Being an “honest Christian” is here added as an extra characteristic of the potential reader. Explicitly calling for this confessional quality is also found in one other black book entitled Sortbogen eller Sÿphrianus Konst- bog 1529 (The Black Book or Cyprian Art Book 1529) from the second half of the eighteenth century, where the writer appeals on the inner cover for the physical keeping of the book: “I ask every Christian Man to keep this book hidden…”7 Yet, other books more than imply its alliance with a Christian religious context, for instance when explaining the use of a black book. When Cÿprianus Konstbog advises the reader as to how the black book should be used, the user instructions are, as with the intended readership of the book, closely tied to a Christian worldview and the virtue of piety. On 2r, the reader is reminded that God provides the ultimate protection against all evil. Now one can see for the first time how powerful God’s word is and his power, when you see how God’s words in this writing can show such great examples, if they are used in an unlawful way, but if they are used in distress and to help your neighbour and yourself, that is not a large sin. But to engage in the coarse art, that is an awful sin, but keep to the words of God in faith and love, to God and His word then neither the Devil himself nor evil people can harm you in the slightest.8 The text makes it clear that God’s protection comes with conditions. Misuse of “God’s word” and “His power”, setting free evil spirits and any “unlawful” usage is a violation of God’s law, which God himself monitors, and it can result in punishment. Using God’s power must be done with caution, the 12 Ane Ohrvik right Christian mindset, and in connection with unselfish deeds such as helping others or protecting yourself. In contrast to this, selfishness and cruel deeds are represented by “the coarse art”. What constitutes “the coarse art” is not explicitly stated even though the reader gets hints as to its connection to and involvement with the Devil. The punishment from breaking God’s law does not come from God, though, but seem to come from “the Devil himself” and “evil people.” Looking beyond Cÿprianus Konstbog, advice about the careful use of the knowledge presented in a black book forms further arguments for the insistence on placing the books within a Christian context. By identifying the unwanted users of the book, a black book from Stavanger on the west coast of Norway, short-titled Cyprianus and dated to the mid-eighteenth century, makes a great effort to place the book within a Christian worldview.9 Placed at the very end of the book the text serves as a final call to the reader: God Almighty! In grace forbid: that it should come into any hands of Man who would use the things found here to serve the Devil and his companions, but the same most merciful God! May everyone be ruled, for the sake of Jesus Christ by the worthy Holy Spirit: of those with the greatest deliberation and careful premeditation, use and distil only that by which the name of God can be hallowed, praised and honoured, and promote our neighbour’s name and well-being. Amen Amen.10 The undesirable readers and users are the ones in danger of misinterpreta- tions and misuse of the knowledge presented in the black book. As such, the call above functions both as warning against potential misuse and also as re- assurance to readers that the book in fact is “on the right side of the track” as long as it is handled by a Christian man. It is, however, not the content of the book that is reassured in this statement. Both Cÿprianus Konstbog and Cyprianus acknowledge the potential harmful content of the books. It is rather the user of the book, the Christian man with a pious mindset, who serves as the guarantee against misuse and harm. A last example of this somewhat ambivalent position taken in the books regarding the content they present is found on the inner cover of a black book from Eiker in Buskerud County from the second half of the eighteenth century. I ask every Christian Man, to keep this book hidden, but useful, to his house, without sin, but use in moderation.11 Why keep the book “hidden” and “use in moderation” if the book in fact is, as it claims, “without sin”? Here, as in the other examples, the virtue of “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” 13 moderation is connected to the true religious man who serves as a guarantee against potential misuse. From the writer’s point of view, it is obvious that the knowledge – the art – presented both in Cÿprianus Konstbog and in other black books is far from neutral. The paratextual elements reveal notions of the art being potentially uncultivated, crude, and immoral and thus sinful, and it is only when applying the knowledge in combination with a pious mindset and true Christian virtue that the art can be without sin. As such, the notion of sin and the monitoring of it are closely tied to the appliance of the art presented in the books. When Cÿprianus Konstbog describes the qualities of the art, glimpses of paratextual comments on contextual circumstances outside the book peer from between the lines: “The black book in itself is, however, not as dangerous as many say and are convinced of in general, and no sins as much as one imagines”.12 No doubt this passage, which occurs in several black books, comments on critique put forward by the established religious elite during the eighteenth century as regards what constituted correct religious beliefs and practices. The writer discloses his awareness of the controversial content presented in the book, yet tries to ward off anticipated criticism by defending it. Before discussing these addresses in more detail I will turn to the main content of the books and see what they actually consist of and what particular knowledge and use they defend.

Reading and Use in Cÿprianus Konstbog Cÿprianus Konstbog consists of a total of 117 single recipes on a wide range of topics. Recipes regarding medical treatment and protection against potential illness in humans and livestock constitute altogether 25 items, more than one fifth of the total recipes. Recipes concerning theft, such as advice on identifying thieves, making a thief return stolen gods, or harming a thief’s eyesight comprise 19 records, indicating that this particular topic was quite important for the writer. The rest of the recipes present advice, formulas, and charms on topics such as women’s love and affection, hunting, luck in playing cards and dice, making oneself invisible, protection against envy, bewitching someone, and winning a trial. Even though there are exceptions, the clear tendency in Cÿprianus Konst- bog is to appeal to the power of God, Jesus Christ, the Holy Spirit and other central biblical figures and saints in matters such as curing sickness, protection against bewitchment and other misfortunes in addition to advice on matters of love and affection. A typical example of such appeals is the following: No. 30 For ache and stinging pain 3 birds are flying under the blue sky good owl blood and swallow blood, let them fly who want and can, my ache and stinging pain 14 Ane Ohrvik will stand still on N:N: (female or male) I want in 3 names Father Son and Holy Spirit. Lord’s Prayer 3 times.13 In this formula the treatment is dependent on God’s power to heal, and by naming the Trinity and repeating the Lord’s Prayer three times, the idea is that God’s power is invoked and directed towards the illness as a means to cure. Other recipes go further, however, making Jesus and other biblical figures the “actual healers” in the treatment act, as illustrated in the next formula for stemming blood. No. 32 To stem blood Jesus and St Peter went along the road, then they met a sinful man, the blood above him flooded, Jesus said What have you done? I have cut a wound very big (Jesus stretched out his hand, blew on the wound with his mouth and spoke in the same instance) Stand blood! Stand blood! Stand blood! as the man stood in hell, who knew right and testified unrightfully, in 3 name, God father S: and H: Spirit Lord’s Prayer 3 times.14 Through the speech act Jesus becomes the healer who through touch and spoken words stems the flooding blood. The speech act turns time, place, and the social context into fluid states which make Jesus’ role in the healing process possible. Partly hidden in the formula we can also detect a comment on the actual disease and possibly also an explanation for its existence. Jesus meets a “sinful man” who in this case characterizes the person with the wound, and in the closing formula Jesus once again names the sinful man who “stood in hell” and who turned to lies even though he knew right from wrong: The wound, or the reason for the illness, comes as a result of sinful actions. Consequently, sickness is closely tied to having or lacking Christian virtue (cf. Djupedal 1987). In a charm for Sami sorcery, time, place and social context are no longer a fluid state, but placed in an explicit historical and biblical context. For Sami sorcery Jesus went on the Mount of Olives, then he met a Sami sorcerer and bewitched, Jesus said: I will bind you but neither by rope or linen, but with the power of God, and with the power of Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit’s wisdom in the 3 names Father, Son and Holy Spirit. 3 times Lord’s Prayer.15 Instead of erasing the limits of time and place to make Jesus’s presence and “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” 15

Christopher Hammer (1720–1804), a Norwegian lawyer, scientist, mathematician, botanist, writer, and an urger for the establishment of a Norwegian University bequeathed his entire book collection to The Royal Norwegian Society of Sciences and Letters where he was a member. Among the books he left behind were several black books that he had collected during the eighteenth century and transcribed and commented on. In one of them entitled Cyprianus eller hans Rætta Fri-Kunstar (Cyprian or his Correct Free Art) we find one of the rare illustrations of the devil, depicted as half human, half animal and with horn attached to the head. Placed around the devil figure are heads of three demons named Narion, Neriat and Astarot. The current drawing is a copy made by Anton C. Bang reproduced in connection with his book Norske Hexeformularer og Magiske Opskrifter in 1901. role possible in the healing process, as illustrated in the previous example, this text makes an explicit connection to a historical and biblical context through the speech act. The reference to the Mount of Olives indicates the historicity in the charm by a concrete reference to a place in time that Jesus actually visited according to biblical texts. Here, he gave several speeches 16 Ane Ohrvik according to the New Testament, and directly below the hill is the garden of Gethsemane. Through the speech act the healer makes a symbolic physical journey in search of healing powers. However, when motivated by revenge due to misfortune, especially connected with theft, protection against theft, or in identifying a thief, the text in many cases leaves nothing to indicate how far one should go in naming, invoking and possibly using the darker powers of Lucifer and the devils. When dealing with theft, there are three types of invocations: those exclusively appealing to the powers of God, those which simultaneously invoke both the spirits and powers of God and the Devil, and those who turn solely to the darker forces of Lucifer and the devils. An extract of advice for forcing a thief to return stolen goods is a good example of the second strategy mentioned: No. 3/ Conjuration to urge a thief to return what is stolen. I urge and conjure you in Diabolo company, which always has power to bind on earth which is bound in heaven X in Hell; I urge you, that you bind that Man, who has stolen N: from N:N: I urge you in Devils, by heaven and earth, that you do not let that Man who has stolen N: from N:N: have any rest or relief in heart, soul, mind, or thought, bodily or spiritually, sleeping or guarding walking or standing, sitting or lying, driving or riding before he carries back again N: that he has stolen from N:N: I conjure you in Lucifer’s company, by God the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit, by God’s Mighty Majesty’s power, by the sun, moon and stars…16 This conjuration continues for another couple of pages, naming Patriarchs, Martyrs, Apostles, Disciples, the four elements, and ending by “conjuring in the worst names of the Devils” where ten names are listed.17 Bringing together all possible powers in forcing the thief to return the stolen goods, this conjuration reflects the notion that only the very strongest powers can help fulfil the conjurer’s desire to retrieve his or her goods. The conjuration sets all earthly, heavenly and supernatural powers in motion, and by equally appealing to both good and evil powers in the mission, the conjurer takes no chances of failing in his quest. Having conjured the evil spirits to assist in retrieving stolen goods, the next passage in the book after this conjuration is one that helps to bind the devils and send them back again. Recognizing the danger of having evil spirits “out of control”, the conjurations invoking dark forces is most often “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” 17 followed by such instructions as a safeguard against unfortunate side effects. Behind conjurations like this are conceptions of the devil as a useful tool that can be employed for different purposes. At the same time he must be handled with the greatest caution since he is a shifty, unpredict- able creature who can turn against you at any time and thus cannot be trusted. The book also presents charms where the charmer turns solely to the darker forces for help. There are several examples in the book, almost exclusively tied to topics concerning theft, and I believe this indicates how serious this crime was perceived to be, and accordingly the strength of the power needed to combat it. The following text is an example of how to force a thief to return stolen goods: No. 6 Another way of forcing a thief. Take a coin in your hand and walk to a lake which runs from the south to the north on a Thursday evening after sunset and say as follows: I N:N: conjure you sun, moon and stars, that you do not shine on that thief who has stolen N: from N:N: I conjure you Lucifer with all your company, O! I conjure you Devil of hell (throw the coin in the lake) that you do not give the thief silence or rest, day or night, morning, midday, or evening fasting or eating, walking or standing, sitting or lying or riding. Rather, that he becomes as restless as a wave on the wild beach, until the thief has returned N: what he has stolen from N:N: to the location and to the place and room from which he has stolen, which shall happen in the name of the worst Devil who is in hell. Then you list the 10 princes of hell who are listed above.18 Apart from appealing to natural forces, this conjuration draws on the powers of the Devil and “the 10 princes of hell”, who are urged to afflict constant stress and unease on the thief in order to force him to correct his wrong- doings. As such, it is the Devil himself that is placed in the position of punishing sinful acts and immorality by humans. In addition to the use of evil forces and powers, the conjuration also draws on other elements which were commonly seen as inhabiting magical powers during the early modern period. Conducting the act of conjuration on a Thursday night speaks to the notion of this particular time being especially advantageous for magical practices, whether this was for good or evil causes. Certain times, places, thoughts and words (either spoken or written), and artefacts, such as the coin in this example, were considered especially forceful and imbued with 18 Ane Ohrvik

Conjurations about how to hit a thief’s eyesight are often followed by illustrations depicting an eye as illustrated here in Cÿprianus Konstbog. The illustration is placed to the left on the page but still highly integrated as part of the conjuration. In this way, a reader gets immediate access to both textual and figurative “manuals” for how to perform the conjuration. From the drawing one can see three nails protrude from the corner of the eye indicating where the conjurer was to place the vengeful nails. (Photo: Norwegian Folklore Archive, University of Oslo.) “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” 19 magical powers when used correctly according to specific ritual instructions (Östling 2002:61–75; Alver 2008:46). It is probably not surprising that it is in connection with these particular conjurations we also find the only illustrations in the black book used to inflict pain and harm on the thief. They are commonly tied to conjurations appealing for help from the Devil and demons, as the following example illustrates. No. 14. When you hit a Thief’s eyesight Write an eye on a piece of paper in addition to the following words around it as the figure shows and this shall be written in human blood Then take a copper nail that is made as described in the first section of this book Pag. 19. No. 8. Place the nail on the eye and hit it three times with the same hammer and say, One eye of the person who has stolen N: from N:N: shall 15,000 devils knock out in this instance.19 This type of conjuration is obviously one of the more violent and harmful texts found in the black book. Nevertheless, it serves as one of the more constant and frequent elements in the whole corpus of Norwegian black books and testifies to perceptions of contempt and harm connected with this crime and to how important it was for people inflicted with theft to retrieve what has been taken from them. And to retrieve what had been stolen, no fewer than 15,000 devils would serve as “ammunition”!

Religious Encounters How, then, is the relationship between the introductory paratexts and the way the knowledge is interpreted and presented to be understood in light of the diabolical content in the main part of Cÿprianus Konstbog? Or to put it in another way; how can a potential reader possibly combine the use of the book with “the right Christian mindset” – the virtue of piety – as advocated with the conjurations of devils and demons? I believe the answer to this lies partly in the nature of the paratext and its function as simultaneously pointing outwards towards circumstances surrounding the text but also inwards as comments on the text that follows. As an outward address the text serves to ward off potential criticism. As a text pointing inwards towards the content of the book, it reveals a view of the knowledge as being variants of Christian beliefs and practices. As mentioned in the introduction to this article, beliefs and practices like the ones exemplified in Cÿprianus Konstbog were subjected to a different critique 20 Ane Ohrvik during the eighteenth century, first and foremost among theologians and a growing group of educated people engaged in and promoting “the new sciences.” While intellectual rhetoric in previous centuries placed such beliefs and practices within the framework of witchcraft and its connection to the diabolical concept, the Devil was less frightening in these matters during the eighteenth century. In the historian Robert Muchembled’s view, it was the very perception of Satan that made the most profound effect on the dia- bolically motivated witch hunts and their decline in Europe: “the slowing down or end of the persecution of the alleged disciples of the devil is linked to the decline of faith in Satan and doubts about the reality of the Sabbath and the infernal pact” (Muchembled 2003:154). According to Muchembled, a milder and more oneiric Devil emerged, who did not possess the same power over the human body and mind and thus became less harmful even though his role was not negligible. Was the same view of the Devil’s role present in the united kingdom of Denmark-Norway? To answer this, a closer look into one of the more influential theologians at the time can serve as example, namely Erik Pontoppi- dan (1698–1764), a polymath with experience of working in both Norway and Denmark. One of the things engaging Pontoppidan throughout his life was the battle against superstition, a superstition he saw embedded in beliefs and practices among peasants and the unlearned. In his critique of popular customs, which is particularly and extensively addressed in Everriculum Fermenti Veteris published in Latin in 1736, he comments in particular on the charms read over sick livestock, conjurations commonly found in black books.20 According to Pontoppidan, these charms proved that: “the Devil, with all his powers, endeavours to blaspheme the most holy name of God and to make superstition grow and to keep ordinary mortals from the per- mitted and legal healing arts” (Olrik 1923:62).21 Here, the Devil is portrayed as far from impotent. He still works against God through humans, chiefly through the human mind and less through the body. Being able to influence human thought, he represents the main reason why Pontoppidan can still ob- serve certain beliefs and practices among peasants. No doubt Pontoppidan wanted to see these customs go in favour of what he advocated as the right Christian faith stripped of that which in certain cases was nothing but “futile spider’s web” and “the most foolish nonsense” (see also Ohrvik 2010). And in defending his position and describing his “opponents” he uses satire and ridicule as a ploy in the polemics, rhetorical tools which became increasingly common during this century in debates on “superstition” throughout Eu- rope (Cameron 2010:287). Even though Pontoppidan engaged in a serious and heartfelt project of guiding “the fools”, his project is far from possessing the same diabolical gravity as represented by the previous century. The Devil had indeed, as Muchembled advocates, turned into a creature linger- ing between the real and the unreal. “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” 21 As superstition was a topic that preoccupied Pontoppidan throughout his professional career, another work by him can specify further his view of the Devil’s power and witchcraft in general. In his catechism from 1744 (first published in 1737) titled Sandhed Til Gudfrygtighed (Truth Leading to Piety) he presents a wide range of questions which, in his view should certainly preoccupy a true Christian in the search for guidance and rules to live by. Here, he specifically addresses witchcraft and the practising of it. Styled as a dialogue with questions and answers, he supports his arguments with biblical passages. Question 117: What does it mean to do witchcraft in the name of God? Answer: When the name of God, a passage from the Bible, or something that belongs to the church service, is invoked heal ailments in humans or cows, bless or conjure, banish, or perform any type of superstition (Pontoppidan 1744:28). Deut 18, 10–12: There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch. Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer. For all that do these things are an abomination unto the LORD: and because of these abominations the LORD thy God doth drive them out from before thee.22 In this passage all uses of God’s word are condemned which are considered part of the church liturgy or the Holy Scripture when used in healing acts or other named superstitious performances. Defined as witchcraft, it serves as a desecration of God in contravention of the second commandment stating that you shall not make wrongful use of the name of the Lord your God. If violated, God will punish accordingly. Consequently, any activities connected to witchcraft are condemned by Pontoppidan, as the next question illustrates. Question 118: May one seek advice from witches, or wise men as they are called? Answer: No, none whatsoever (Pontoppidan 1744:28). Lev 19,31: Regard not them that have familiar spirits, neither seek after wiz- ards, to be defiled by them: I am the LORD your God. Engaging witches or wise men is not only wrong; it potentially implies the worship of other spirits than God, and thus the first commandment stating that you shall have no other gods before me echoes in the text. Still, since God is almighty, God also serves as the ultimate protector of the pious. Question 119: Should one fear witches? Answer: No, since they can do nothing to the faithful without God’s per- mission (ibid., my italics).23 No doubt it is views like this that are advocated in the paratext of Cÿprianus Konstbog. The writer is most likely aware that the content of the book would 22 Ane Ohrvik not fit well with ecclesiastical spokesmen like Pontoppidan who would – as we have seen – characterize it as contrary to the true Christian faith. To a reader the text, when addressing the book to honest science-loving Chris- tians, expresses an explicit perception of the book’s content as advocating Christian values, thus functioning to ward off anticipated criticism of what it presents. However, can this be seen as purely strategic measures towards contemporary polemics outside of the text, or does the paratext in fact take an important stand in the polemics against what constitutes the “true Chris- tian faith” when considering the diabolical content of the book? First and foremost I believe this pinpoints the nuances in Christian beliefs and practices during the eighteenth century, and shows how individuals interpreted and used Christian beliefs and rituals in their everyday life. The reader of Cÿprianus Konstbog meets both a potential vibrant, powerful, and vengeful Devil who is used to inflict harm, suffering and punishment on thieves. Whether the Devil has been reduced to a primarily spiritual creature, or if he is still believed to have physical qualities is hard to determine from the text presented here. What is clear, however, is that the charms convey beliefs and practices involving the existence and power of the Devil, beliefs that were not considered “superstition”, but a part of Christian faith. When in want, the devil’s powers could be manipulated to satisfy one’s need. The charms point to a Christian worldview where the devil represent an evil force, a force no longer representing a challenge to the supremacy of God but whose powers can still perform evil in the world. Doing good deeds by healing illness called for the good force in the world – namely God – while revenge and harm demanded its counterpart when people insisted on taking matters into their own hands. As such, the dualistic, yet uneven relationship between God and the devil, between good and evil, persisted as beliefs among the writers of black books long after spokesmen of the church like Pontoppidan had declared the devil virtually powerless. But to whom did these beliefs belong? As I have shown in my previous study, the writers of the Norwegian black books in the eighteenth century were far from the somewhat stereotyped uneducated peasant inhabiting the rural outskirts of Norwegian society, as has often been suggested by scholars. Rather, the writing styles and the way they composed the books as proper literary works, mirroring printed works at that time, testify to an in- depth knowledge of genres and styles, to being well trained in reading and writing and thus having received an education. The biographical information following some of these manuscripts further strengthens this notion (Ohrvik 2012:56–60). Based on the information retrieved from the few writers who can be identified, they were well educated, well travelled, and pursued impressive careers during their lifetime, for instance within the military. Taking these facts into account, I am more than sceptical about simply labelling the beliefs expressed in the black books as “popular”, a de- “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” 23 nomination that has repeatedly been applied by scholars studying this material. Such a social and cultural classification of the beliefs would be too oversimplified. Instead, I believe Norwegian black books like Cÿprianus Konstbog serve to challenge our notions of the cultural and social divisions in religious beliefs and practices in the eighteenth century. The books challenge scholarly perceptions and interpretations of what constituted Christian beliefs and practices within different social groups during this period and what was considered useful knowledge to have and utilize. In a time when philosophy, religion and science gazed towards the future and new knowledge replaced old, the black books remind us that even in the late eighteenth century people from different social and cultural backgrounds still defended old wisdom and tradition. In this way, the black books show how old religious beliefs and perceptions of knowledge existed side by side with new ones on the threshold of modern times.

Ane Ohrvik, PhD Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages University of Oslo P.O. Box 1010, Blindern NO - 0315 Oslo Norway e-mail: [email protected]

References Alver, B. G. 2008: Mellem mennesker og magter. Magi i hekseforfølgelsernes tid. Oslo, Scandinavian Academic Press. Bang, A. C. 1890: Kirkehistoriske Smaastykker. Kristiania, Cammermeyer. Bang, A. C. 1901: Norske Hexeformularer og magiske Opskrifter. Kristiania, I commission hos Jacob Dybwad. Baroja, J. C. 1987: De katolska demonologarna. Häxornas Europa 1400–1700, ed. B. Ankarloo & G. Henningsen, pp. 29–50. Lund, Institutet för rättshistorisk forskning grundat av Gustav och Carin Olin. Cameron, E. 2010: Enchanted Europe. Superstition, Reason, and Religion 1250– 1750. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Clark, S. 1997: Thinking with Demons. The Idea of Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe. Oxford, New York: Clarendon Press, Oxford University Press. Clark, S. 2002: Witchcraft and Magic in Early Modern Culture. Witchcraft and Magic in Europe: The Period of the Witch Trials, ed. B. Ankarloo & S. Clark, pp. 97–169. Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia Press. Djupedal, K. 1987: Sykdomsbegrepet på landsbygda i 1890-årene. Tradisjon 17: 63–76. Edsman, C.-M. 1963: Sjätte och Sjunde Mosebok. Saga och Sed. Kungl. Gustav Adolfs Akademiens årsbok 1962: 63–102. 24 Ane Ohrvik Forsblom, V. W. 1927: Magisk folkmedicin. Helsingfors: Svenska litteratursällska- pet i Finland. Genette, G. 1997: Paratexts. Thresholds of Interpretation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gilje, N. 2003: Heksen og humanisten. Anne Pedersdatter og Absalon Pederssøn Beyer : en historie om magi og trolldom i Bergen på 1500-tallet. Bergen: Fag- bokforl. Grambo, R. 1979: Norske trollformler og magiske ritualer. Oslo: Universitetsforla- get. The Holy Bible, Conteyning the Old Testament, And The New: Newly Translated out of the Originall tongues: & with the former Translations diligently compared and revised, by his Majesties speciall Comandement. Appointed to be read in Churches. Anno Dom. 1611 Imprinted at London by Robert Barker, Printer to the Kings most Excellent Majestie. Johnson, T. K. 2010: Tidebast och Vändelrot. Magical Representations in Swedish Black Art Book Tradition. Seattle: University of Washington. Klintberg, B. af 1965: Svenska trollformler. Stockholm: Wahlström & Widstrand. Levack, B. P. 2006: The Witch-hunt in Early Modern Europe. Harlow: Pear- son/Longman. Linderholm, E. 1940: Signelser ock besværjelser från medeltid och nytid. Uppsala: Dialekt- och folkminnesarkivet. Mitchell, S. 2011: Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages. Philadelphia & Oxford: University of Pennsylvania Press. Muchembled, R. 2003: A History of the Devil. From the Middle Ages to the Present. Cambridge: Polity Press. Ohrt, F. 1917: Danmarks Trylleformler. Innledning og tekst. København, Kristiania: Gyldendal. Ohrt, F. 1921: Danmarks Trylleformler. Efterhøst og lønformler. København, Kris- tiania: Gyldendal. Ohrt, F. 1927: Da Signed Krist. Tolkning af det religiøse indhold i Danmarks signelser og besværgelser. København: Gyldendalske Bokhandel. Ohrvik, A. 2010: “Sjælens Læger” og “de Syge selv”. Sykdomsbehandling i norske svartebøker mellom 1600–1800 med vekt på religiøs tro og praksis. Religiøs tro og praksis i den dansk-norske helstat fra reformasjonen til opplysningstid ca. 1500–1814, ed. A. B. Amundsen & H. Laugerud, pp. 169–187. Bergen: Unipub forlag. Ohrvik, A. 2012: Conceptualizing Knowledge in Early Modern Norway. A Study of Paratexts in Norwegian Black Books. Oslo: Faculty of Humanities, University of Oslo. (Unpublished diss.) Olrik, J. (ed.) 1923: Fejekost. Til at udfeje den gamle surdejg eller de i de danske landetiloversblevne og her for dagen bragte levninger af saavel hedenskab som papisme: 1736. København: Schønbergske forl. Östling, P.-A. 2002: Blåkulla, magi och trolldomsprocesser. En folkloristisk studie av folkliga trosföreställningar och av trolldomsprocesserna inom Svea Hovrätts jurisdiktion 1597–1720. Uppsala. Pontoppidan, E. 1736: Everriculum fermenti veteris, seu residuae in Danico orbecum paganismi tum papismi reliquae in apricum prolatae, opusculum restituendo suae, aliqua ex parte, integritati Christianismo velificaturum. Hafniae, E Ty- pographeo S. Reg. Majest. privil. Pontoppidan, E. 1744: Sandhed Til Gudfrygtighed, Udi En eenfoldig og efter Mue- lighed kort, dog tilstrekkelig Forklaring Over Sal. Doct. Mort. Luthers Liden Catechismo. Kjøbenhavn: Det kgl. Waysenhuses Forlag. “… For All Honest Christian and Science-Loving Readers” 25 Rääf, L. F. 1957: Svenska skrock och signerier. Stockholm: Almqvist & Wiksell In- ternational.

1 “Den katolska läran forklarar, att demoner har förmågan att skada med sina handlingar och hindra sexuellt umgänge.” All translations following this article are my own unless stated otherwise. 2 For a comprehensive study of the intellectual development of demonology, see Stuart Clark’s book Thinking with Demons. 3 In the following, black books will be characterized as books, works, and manuscripts even though I acknowledge that the meaning of these concepts, especially within a book-history context, differ and could be perceived as contradictions. My main reason for insisting on this use lies with the way black books were viewed and what they were called by their makers. While “manuscript” is a modern characterization of the nature of the work (handwritten versus printed), both “black book” and “book” stem from the way the writers viewed and named them, perhaps perceiving them as literate works. 4 “Den som er Elsker af Videnskaber, kan/ altsaa tillægge sig Cÿprianus baade til/ Nÿtte og Raritet, og som Helligdom”, see NB Ms 4 1819. The abbreviation NB stands for the National Library of Norway. 5 See e.g. NFS Moltke Moe 106 III a), NFS Moltke Moe 106 III e), NB Ms 8640b, and NB Ms 8640c1. The abbreviation NFS stands for The Norwegian Folklore Archive. 6 “Tredie Deel/ af Cÿpherianus/ paa Nÿe oplagt efter Originalen/ til/ Alle Christne ærlige/ og/ Widenskabselskende/ Lesere”, see NB Ms 4 1819. 7 “Denne Bog beder ieg/ enhver Christen Mand/ vil holde skjult/”, see NB Ms 8640b. 8 “Nu kan man först see, hvor kraftig Guds/ Ord er og Hans Magt, Da Du seer Guds/ Ord i dette Skrift kan gjöre saa store Prö/ver, om endskjönt de nu bruges paa en/ ulovlig Maade, men naar det bruges/ i Nödsfald og til at Hjelpe sin Næste/ og sig Selv det er Vel ikke saa stoer/ Sÿnd. Men, at indlade sig i den grove/ Konst, det er en forskrækkelig Sÿnd,/ men hold Dig til Guds Ord i Troe/ og Kjerlighed, til Gud og Hans Ord,/ saa kan hværken Satan Selv, eller onde Mennesker i mindste Maade/ Skade Dig”, see NB Ms 4 1819. 9 The full title is in a typical baroque title style: Cyprianus, den over ald Verden viit berømte Sorte Kunster: paa nye igiennemseet og forbedret af Høÿlærde og Konsterfarne Doctoribus Trÿkt udi Stavanger i Norge Anno 1699, see NB Ms 4 832. 10 “Gud allermæktigste! I Naade forbÿde: at det skul=/ de komme i noged Menniskes Haand, der vilde bruge de herudi befindende -/ Ting til at tiene Fanden og hans Anhang med, men den samme aller=/ Barmhiertigste Gud! Regiere en hver, for Jesu Christi Skÿld,/ ved den værdige Hellig Aand:”, see NB Ms 4 832. 11 “Denne Bog beder ieg/ enhver Christen Mand/ vil holde skjult, men/ nÿttig, til sit Huus,/ for uden Sÿnd, men/ brug Maadehold”, see NB Ms 8 640b. 12 “Sortbogen i sig selv er Dog ikke saa Farlig/ som mange sige i Almindelighed, og ingen/ Sÿnder det saa meget som mange indbilder/ sig…”, see NB Ms 4 1819. 13 “No 30./ For Wærk og Svie./ Der flyver 3, Fugler under Himlen blaae,/ god Ugleblod, og Svaleblod, lad dem/ flyve som Vil og kan, min Værk og Svie/ skal staae still paa denne N: N:/ (Qvinde eller Mand) jeg Vil i 3 Navn Fader/ Sønd og Hellig Aand. 3 gange Fadervor”, see NB Ms 4 1819. 14 “No 32./ At stille Blod./ Jesus og St: Peder gik sin Vei frem,/ saa møtte dem en Syndig Mand, Blodet/ over ham randt, Jesus sagde Hvad har/ du jort? Jeg har hugget et saaer meg-/ et stort (Jesus ham ragte ud sin Haand,/ bleste paa Saaret med sin Mund og/ talede saa i samme Stund) Stat Blod!/ Stat Blod! Stat Blod! som den Mand/ i Helvede stoed, som Viste Ret og Vitned/ urett, i 3 Navn, Gudfader S: og H: Aand/ 3, gange Fadervor”, see NB Ms 4 1819. 15 “For Finnegann./ Jesus op paa Oljebjerget gik, saa/ mødte han en Finne Gann, og Forgjør-/ 26 Ane Ohrvik else, Jesus sagde: Jeg skal dig Binde/ Dog hværken med Reb eller Linne,/ men med Guds Magt, og med Jesus/ Christi Kraft og den Hellig Aands/ Viisdom I de 3 Navne Fader, Søn/ og Hellig Aand. 3 gange Fader/ Vor”, see NB Ms 4 1819. 16 “No 3./ Udmaning til at drive en Tyv tilbage/ med det stjaalne./ Jeg maner og uddriver eder i Diabolis sel-/ skab, som altid haver Magt til at binde paa/ Jorden det som er bundet i Himme- len X i/ Helvede; jeg maner eder du, at i nu ban-/ der det Menneske, som haver bortstjaalet/ det N: fra N:N: jeg maner eder du i Djæv-/ le, Ved Himmel og jord, at i ikke lader/ det Menneske som det N: haver stjaalet/ fra N:N: have nogen Roe eller Liise i/ Hjerte, Sjel, Sind, eller Tanker, Legem-/ lig eller Aandelig, Sovende eller Vog-/ ende, gaaende eller staaende, Siddende eller Liggende, Kjørende eller/ Ridende, førend han bær tilbage igjen det N: han/ har stjaalet fra N: N: jeg besværer eder i/ Lusifeers Selskab, Ved Gudfader, Søn og/ Hellig Aand, ved Guds Høy- este Majestæts/ Kraft, Ved Sool, Maane og Stjerner,…”, see NB Ms 4 1819. 17 “…og dette bliver manet i de Værste/ Djævles Navn. Som følger:…” 18 “No. 6/ Paa en anden Maade at drive en Tyv./ Tag en Penge i din Haand og gaae til et/ Vand som rinder fra Sør til Nord, en/ Torsdags Aften efter Solens Nedgang og/ sig saaledes som føl- ger:/ Jeg N:N: Maner Dig Soel, Maqane og Stjer-/ ner, at i ikke skinner paa en Tyv som det/ N: haver stjaalet fra N:N: jeg maner Dig/ Lusifeer med alt dit Selskab, O! Jeg/ Maner dig Fanden af Helvede (kast saa/ Pengen udi Vandet) at i ikke giver/ den Tyv hværken Roe eller Hviile, Dag eller/ Nat, Morgen Middag eller Aften,/ Fastende eller Spiisende, gaaende eller/ staaende, Siddende eller liggende eller/ Ridende. Men, at han maa blive saa/ urolig som en Vandbølge paa den/ hvilde Strandbred, og før den Tyv til/ bage med det N: han haver stjaalet/ fra N:N: til den Plads, og til det/ Sted og Rum, hvor han det sjal ifra,/ som skal skje i de Værste Djævelers Navn/ som ere i Helvede. Siden opregner/ du de 10 Helvedes Fyrster som før/ ere optegnede”, see NB Ms 4 1819. 19 “No 14./ At slaae du en Tyvs Øye./ Skriv paa et støkke Papiir et Øye, og/ følgende Ord om- kring som Figuret/ Viser og dette skal skrives med Menne-/ skeblod:/ Tag saa en Kobbernagle/ som er smid paa saadan/ Maade som staaer i denne/ Bogs første Deel Pag: 19. No 8. Sæt naglen/ paa Øyet da du skal see til Tyvens Øje/ og slaae paa Naglen 3 Slag med samme/ Hammer og siig, Den som har stjaalet/ det N: fra N:N: hans ene Øye skal/ 15000 Djevler udslaae i denne Stund”, see NB Ms 4 1819. 20 The book’s original title was Everriculum fermenti veteris, seu residuae in Danico orbecum paganismi tum papismi reliquae in apricum prolatae, opusculum restituendo suae , aliqua ex parte, integritati Christianismo velificaturum. 21 “…Djævelen af alle Kræfter beflitter sig paa at udsætte Guds allerhelligste Navn for Spot og Spe og paa at faa Overtroen til at tiltage og de Dødelige til at afholde sig fra den tilladelige og lovlige Lægekunst.” 22 The biblical texts are quoted from the 1611 edition of King James Bible. 23 “Spørsmål 117: Hvad er det at giøre Troldom ved Guds Navn? Svar: Naar man ved Guds Navn, et Sprog af Bibelen, eller noget, som hører Guds-Tienesten til, vil helbrede Sygdomme paa Mennisker eller Qvæg, signe eller maale, vise igien, eller øve nogen Slags Overtroe. Ref. 5 Mos 18,10-12: Der skal ikke findes hos dig en Spaamand, en Dag-Væller, eller som agter paa Fugle-Skriig, eller Troldkarl, eller Manere, eller Tegns Udleggere, eller Sandsigere, eller som giør Spørgsmaal til de Døde; thi hvo som saadant giør, er en Vederstyggelighed for Herren. Spørsmål 118: Maa man vel søge Raad hos Hexe-Mestere, eller Vise Mænd, som de kaldes? Svar: Ney ingenlunde. Ref: 3 Mos 19,31: I skal ikke vende eder til Spaa-Qvinder, og ikke søge hen til Spaa-Mænd, at besmitte eder paa dem, jeg er Herren eders Gud. Spørsmål 119; Tør man ey frygte for Hexer? Svar: Ney, thi de kand, uden Guds Tilladelse, slet intet giøre de Troende.” “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden” 27 “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden as the Chief Centre of Folklore-work”

Nils-Arvid Bringéus

The quotation used as the title of this article comes from a letter from Ken- neth Jackson to C. W. von Sydow in Lund, dated 24 May 1938. In essays in the Irish journal Béaloideas for 2010 and 2011, Bo Almqvist acquaints us with Kenneth Jackson (1909–1991), “one of the greatest Celticists of the twentieth century”, and shows that he also was an important folklorist. He also draws attention to Jackson’s contacts with C. W. von Sydow. The two men had met by chance in London, and partly through Séamus Ó Duilearga, Jackson’s interest in von Sydow’s research had increased. In his letter Jack- son writes: “I should be glad to have the opportunity of familiarizing myself with the latest ideas on the subject.” Jackson wanted to come to Lund and spend a year or two there, and von Sydow said that he would be welcome. Unfortunately, the plans came to nothing. A new world war was in the offing. Jackson went instead to the USA, where he became associate professor and later professor in the De- partment of Celtic Language and Literature at Harvard University. Bo Almqvist has urged me to explore further in Jackson’s footsteps, because in 2006 I published a book in Swedish about C. W. von Sydow as a folklorist, now available in English translation, and because it would be easier for me to do research in Swedish archives. I am grateful to Bo Almqvist for the idea and for his keen involvement in the subsequent work.

The Planned Folktale Institute In 1944 Kenneth Jackson resumed contact with von Sydow. His letter is not preserved, but we know from von Sydow’s long letter in response, written from Sjuhult, Mistelås, on 6 August 1944, that the reason for the renewed contact was the international folk-tale institute that was planned. Here, in translation, is what von Sydow writes about this: Hearty thanks for your letter. Forgive me for writing in Swedish, although naturally it may cause you some inconvenience. I usually write in Swedish to my foreign cor- 28 Nils-Arvid Bringéus respondents, but I was a little doubtful as to how to act in this case. However, since I do not have any English dictionary at hand out here in rural Småland, where I now spend my holidays, I finally decided that I ought to follow my habit, and I hope that it will not cause you too much difficulty. Yes, an “International Folktale Institute” is a necessity. There are many folklore archives of various kinds, but their work, as a rule, has a more or less local orientation. The Lund University Folklore Archive, for example, has as its main task to collect folklore of various kinds in southern Sweden, in addition to which it has to register the material from different angles and keep the archive accessible for research and university teaching. This leaves very little scope for international work. This is how it is more or less everywhere. – We have had a kind of personal folktale institute in men such as Reinhold Köhler, H. F. Feilberg, J. Bolte, and the like, but that is no longer sufficient. Old Bolte, whose notes on Grimm are very rewarding and indispensable for any folktale scholar, had his serious limitations, like any individual. He did not give any consideration, for example, to legends, although there is no clear-cut boundary between fairy tale and legend [von Sydow’s original: mellan saga (“Märchen”, fairy tale) och sägen]. On the contrary, in many fairy tales one can clearly see that the actual core is a legend which has been given a continuation through the free invention of fairy tale. Folktale research is obliged to include legends and myths and more within its purview. No matter how valuable older personal institutes such as those listed above may actually have been, folktale research can now no longer content itself merely with what individuals may happen to have the time and interest to do. If research is to find its way in the huge, more or less international and often highly inaccessible material, then an international, well-organized folktale institute is an absolute necessity. It is another matter, of course, to what extent the proposed institute will be able to satisfy all the wishes listed in the circular. Number 7 is a very important wish in this respect, although it cannot be realized by IFI alone. Here we need organized collaboration between IFI and a great many different archives, institutes, and private persons. Naturally, Stith Thompson will be the actual leader and supervisor in the additional indexing work. But IFI must do what it is able to do, and above all must have good contact both with Stith Thompson and with the other institutes and private persons who do work in the field. – Very important in this, as you say, is a thorough registration of the motifs of medieval literature. Doctor Boberg, who has been appointed to head the future IFI, has made an index of motifs for the Icelandic sagas, above all the fornaldarsögur, and is she busy with an index of motifs in Saxo Gram- maticus. The importance of this indexing work of hers is clear, since it is essential to make an absolute distinction between what is Icelandic and what is Danish in Saxo. Axel Olrik made a brilliant start there with his studies of Saxo’s sources, but it is not definitive, since it was not possible in his day to have a complete grasp of the occur- rence of the motifs. The result will not be definitive until after this and other indexing. – One must continue with the medieval heroic poetry, with legends and exempla, and much besides. This is important for folktale research as such, but also for all branches of philology belonging to medieval studies. It was not long ago that a Romanist wrote to me about a number of exempla in a Portuguese manuscript that he was going to print and annotate. I was able to give him some references to a few of the exempla that he asked about, but I had to point out that there is unfortunately no index of either types or motifs concerning exempla or “Schwänke” in medieval or Renaissance collections. I was only able to refer to Wesselski’s works. There we have, thus, a very important wish not only for folklorists but also for manuscript philologists. “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden” 29 […] When one now looks through the draft we made for the IFI working programme, one must be clear from the beginning that in many respects it is and must long be a utopia. The annual government grant that has been requested for the new institute is 15,000 Danish crowns. This budget is supposed to be sufficient to pay a director, Inger Margrete Boberg, Ph.D. and an assistant, Laurits Bødker, Ph.Lic. In addition it has to suffice for expenses and fair copying. The budget is minimal, and the staff cannot be big enough to accomplish the programme alone. But here one must bear in mind that Denmark has suffered dreadful looting at the hands of the Germans, and can only slowly think of increasing its grant. It would be highly desirable if, for example, the Rockefeller Foundation were to provide an additional grant, which could significantly increase the working capacity of the institute. I am thinking particularly of the wish that suitable persons could be sent out to different archives and private persons to act orally to achieve cooperation and to negotiate about the division of labour and the like. I am afraid that correspondence alone has too little effect. What I am trying to say here is that IFI, in the present circumstances, is just a small beginning, which can only succeed very slowly in achieving the great goal suggested in our circular. But it is important that this beginning is made. It is essential for IFI to start the work of indexing immediately, but above all to get in contact with the other folklore archives and institutes in the world, to be able to provide researchers with information about where something can be found, and perhaps also to mediate contacts of that kind. Then the work can gradually be expanded through voluntary staff, through grants from private foundations, and increased government grants, but all this will not go quickly. An important thing would be to get a professorship of folklore in Copenhagen, which would be a very good support for the institute, and that is what they want in university circles there. On 8 June 1946 Stith Thompson wrote to C. W. von Sydow: The Institute should, by all means, be in charge of competently trained personnel. These can doubtless be found in the Scandinavian countries. I should hope that, even though the Danish State might give support to the institution, it would be truly international and that the personnel need not be Danish entirely. We actually have very few well-trained persons still active in folktale study. For that reason we must use to the fullest extent possible, such well-trained persons as we have. In my judgement, the logical person to head such an Institute would be Sven Liljeblad. On 23 June 1946 Kenneth Jackson wrote to von Sydow: I have received a copy of the Proposal for the Foundation of an International Folk Tale Institute. I assume it was sent out by Professor Thompson, as it comes from In- diana; but there was nothing else to show this, and I am writing directly to you, as the answer should reach you more quickly that way. It seems to me that the proposed Institute will be a most admirable thing in every way, and I should like to offer my most hearty approval of its aims. They are all highly important, but perhaps (at least to my mind) most of all number 7, the complete index of motives. I look forward to this as one of the most important things that can be done in the field of folklore; and, since the phrase is “to supplement the work already done by Stith Thompson”. I should like to suggest that the chief gap in that magnificent work lies in the sphere of medieval sources – these are very inadequate- ly treated, and it would be a boon to folklorists if an index to medieval popular tale could be constructed.” 30 Nils-Arvid Bringéus Unfortunately, the institute could not be realized in its original form due to lack of funds and international support. Thanks to efforts in Denmark, however, it was able to begin working as a Nordic institute in April 1949, with Dr Inger Boberg (1910–1957) as director and Laurits Bødker (1915–1982) as assistant. Yet it was forced to close on 31 March 1951, and on 4 March the following year, C. W. von Sydow died. When the Nordic Culture Commission added the institute to its programme, work resumed in Copenhagen in the spring of 1959 with Laurits Bødker as director. He continued in this role until 1966, when he obtained the chair of folklore in Copenhagen that von Sydow had hoped would be established. The Nordic Institute of Folklore moved to Åbo in 1972, where Professor Lauri Honko was director until 1990, followed by the Norwegian folklorist Reimund Kvideland 1991–1997. When the Nordic Council of Ministers decided that it could no longer provide funding, the institute had to close in 1997.

Folklore Studies in England C. W. von Sydow continues his letter from Mistelås with a new topic: I fully agree with what you write about England, and it looks as if it would be virtually impossible to get the English to do efficient collecting of folklore in their own country. It is strange that England, which has given us the word folklore and through Tylor, Andrew Lang, and others has given us the first sound judgements of what the people’s traditions mean and can give to research, shows so little interest in its own primitive culture in the past and among the present-day common people. To some extent, I suppose, it has to do with the fact that educated Englishmen are so bound by propriety and all its narrow prejudices that they cannot condescend to mix with peasants and workers in a familiar and confidence-inspiring way. It is also characteristic that, while all the other countries in Europe, not least Ireland and Scotland, have compiled good and many-sided collections of folktales, England proper has very little to show off. The Folklore Society has published collections of folklore from different counties, but the material is taken from books, periodicals, and the like, and not direct from the mouth of the people. This is a state of affairs that needs to be remedied. It is not easy to determine, however, whether it is possible to send collectors there from the Scandinavian countries. On 19 August 1946 Kenneth Jackson wrote to von Sydow: I was very glad indeed to have your detailed account of the history and aims of IFI. As regards English folklore studies you have put your finger on one of the chief weaknesses, namely the rigid English class system which makes it very difficult for the educated classes to understand the mind of the countryman (though it is only fair to say that this cuts both ways: the countryman is very suspicious of the educated classes); hence most of the wild and absurd theories which characterise English folklore studies. Another weakness is the fact that almost all English folklorists are amateurs, and quite out of touch with the modern science as developed in Scandina- via and Germany. Nevertheless I still believe that much good work might be done, probably best by a foreigner, which is why I suggested IFI might be interested in it. Also I still think “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden” 31 that though perhaps 90% of the work published in folklore in England is rubbish, there is still a small percentage which is worth the serious attention of folklorists; after all, though the theories are usually absurd the facts recorded are usually reliable and sometimes important. That is why I recommend folklorists at least to glance at “Folk-Lore”, because some jewels may occasionally be found among the trash.

C. W. von Sydow on Sven Liljeblad In his letter from Mistelås, von Sydow goes on to write: Stith Thompson wrote to me the other day that he thought that Sven Liljeblad ought to become head of IFI, and he would fit well for that, but what I have just written about the situation says that it is impossible. On the other hand, there is some possibility for him to become professor in Sweden. The possibilities in this field at universities in Sweden have deteriorated, however, since my personal chair has now ceased and has been transformed. The University Working Committee, which was set up during the crisis to see which professorships at the two state universities could be withdrawn and which new professorships needed to be established, had suggested that Lund should receive a professorship of ethnology (material folk culture), since it was necessary in order that Lund, which has many museums, including a large peasant museum, could give a complete education for museum workers, but Uppsala should have a professorship of folklore. This was how things stood when it was suggested that I should have a personal professorship in folklore at Uppsala. Then Lund University objected to this. Since I had taught there since 1910, I should be able to continue there, and parliament decided in accordance with what Lund wanted. At that time I was glad to be able to stay on in Lund, where I have been since my student days, but in Uppsala they were angry with me. When a personal professor retires, his chair should really be withdrawn, but a university which has had a personal professorship of this kind will want to retain it in some form. When it came to compensa- tion, Lund asked to be given the professorship of ethnology suggested by the Work- ing Committee, while Uppsala now demanded its professorship of folklore. Lund was victorious, but Professor Martin P:n Nilsson managed to prevail on the Chan- cellor to declare that the two subjects, ethnology and folklore studies, should be amalgamated into a single subject under the name “folklife studies”. I regard this as sheer madness, since the two subjects have grown out of completely different conditions and require different kinds of talent and different auxiliary sciences. There is, quite simply, no one with scholarly mastery of the two fields. After my departure, then, Lund University received a new permanent professorship with the name “Nor- dic and Comparative Folklife Studies, Especially Ethnological”, and Uppsala will get nothing at all in the next 10 to 15 years, that is, as long as the present Chancellor is in power. That is the situation at our state universities; folklore is now just a little appendage to ethnology, which is unreasonable. The only possibility now is that the non-state university college in Stockholm [Stockholms Högskola] establishes a professorship of folklore. … Would you be willing to write a statement in which you stress the significance of the subject and emphasize Liljeblad’s merits as a scholar and teacher, and the confidence that researchers abroad have in him? He is at present by far the most skilful person in the field of folklore in Sweden. You know him personally and can give an account of what he has achieved during the six years he has been forced by circumstances to stay in America. One troublesome matter is that Liljeblad does not have many printed works to show, which would make it more difficult for our state universities to employ him, but that means less at the private colleges. Liljeblad could 32 Nils-Arvid Bringéus do a lot for the development of the subject in Sweden. All the work that he under- takes he performs in an intelligent, energetic, and conscientious way, and he has extensive learning. I would not hesitate to call him one of our country’s most learned men. His position as professor in Stockholm would mean a great deal for Uppsala, but would also be a good support for IFI in Copenhagen. So, I would be very grateful to you if you would send a statement about Liljeblad to Mr Fredrik Ström (address: Lillsjönäsvägen 60, Ulvsunda) as soon as possible, and if you can prevail on any other suitable professor to do the same, it would be all the better. I have asked Stith Thompson to do the same, but I have not yet received an answer from him.

Kenneth Jackson on Sven Liljeblad Kenneth Jackson states in his letter: “I should like to say also that during this last year I have been happy to make the acquaintance of your friend Sven Liljeblad, what an enthusiastic folklorist and charming person. This has been a great pleasure.” Kenneth Jackson wrote again on 19 August 1946 from Harvard to Profes- sor von Sydow: “Thank you very much for your most interesting letter. I have written to Mr. Ström in strong support of Sven Liljeblad, and have got Professor Starck to promise to do the same (he is more able to speak about his linguistic work than I am). I certainly hope Stith Thompson will do likewise.” On the same day, 19 August 1946, Kenneth Jackson dated his letter to Fredrik Ström (now in Göteborg University Library): Dear Sir, I have been informed by Professor von Sydow that the Stockholms Hög- skola might possibly elect Mr. Sven Liljeblad to a professorship in folklore studies; and I should like to say a few words speaking as a folklorist and as one who knows Mr. Liljeblad personally, in his support. Mr. Liljeblad is of course a young folklorist of international fame. His book on the Tobias legend, as well as a number of other smaller studies, establish him as a brilliant and scientific authority in the folktale, a scholar of fine instinct and one of the most outstanding folklorists anywhere in the world. His opinions are sound and cau- tious without that wild theorising which unfortunately characterises some folklore students; and there can be no question of his wide and deep knowledge of his subject. As regards his personal character, I have known him here in Harvard for several years; and I can say that I have rarely met anyone with so much personal charm and modesty of manner, combined with the capacity to make one sense the true scholar. Of his actual teaching work in Harvard I cannot speak directly, as it has been in a linguistic field quite outside my own; but others in a better position to judge will speak about this. I may say however that I have heard the best possible reports in this respect. His work in the folklore of a western American tribe of Indians has been most remarkable, not only folkloristically but also linguistically. He lived with the tribe, learned their language, and absorbed their culture. There is no doubt that Mr. Liljeblad is an extremely gifted man; a brilliant folklorist who has made a great impression on his American colleagues. Any institution of higher learning might think itself fortunate to have him as a member of its faculty. Yours sincerely, Kenneth Jackson “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden” 33

Sven Liljeblad (1899–2000) Photo: Lund University Library

Stith Thompson on Sven Liljeblad Stith Thompson of Indiana University, Bloomington, had been kept informed through C. W. von Sydow about Sven Liljeblad even before the latter had set off for the USA. On 14 September 1938 von Sydow wrote: Sven Liljeblad is still in hospital here and the doctor wants to keep him through the whole of October. Only then can he think of travelling to America, and consequently cannot take any university job in America this year. He is contemplating taking one of the Johnson Line boats direct to San Francisco. I am sorry that he is so ill, but if he will only obey doctor’s orders, he can perhaps become reasonably well again, and the climate in California is perhaps just what he needs. On 11 December 1938 von Sydow wrote again (in Swedish) to Thompson: I have just had a letter from Sven Liljeblad. It looks as if he cannot get away from here until February. So far now he has lectured in Uppsala and worked in the Dialect Archive for scant recompense. He does, however, seem to have gone through the purgatory of the American medical examination, so that his journey is assured in that respect. Bloomington was to be Sven Liljeblad’s first stop in the USA, however, and on 3 February 1940 Stith Thompson wrote to von Sydow: I have no doubt that Sven has written you his impressions of his American trip. We have had a very pleasant time with him since his arrival in early November. He leaves tomorrow for California, where he hopes to see something of the work of California anthropological school and possibly see a few Indians. Later he expects 34 Nils-Arvid Bringéus to be in New Mexico with Dr. Spier and afterward go to Minnesota to see the Swe- dish communities. … Among other things he has adjusted himself thoroughly to American life and has improved his English very much. It has, of course been a considerable stimulus to me to have him here to talk to. On 21 April 1943 von Sydow wrote as follows in Swedish to Stith Thomp- son: “It is now a very long time since I heard anything from you personally. But I have heard something from Liljeblad, and I now wish to take the opportunity to thank you cordially for everything you have done for him during his stay in the USA.” On 4 August 1946 von Sydow wrote to Stith Thompson at Indiana Uni- versity, Bloomington, to inform him and that the member of parliament Fredrik Ström was trying to get Stockholm City Council to establish a professorship of folklore. He asked Thompson to write a statement and send it to Ström. This he did very soon, in a letter dated 16 August 1946: I have heard from several sources that consideration is now being given to the possibility of the establishment of a chair of Folklore in Stockholms Högskola. I hope you will not consider it a presumption in me if I write you urging the importance of this action for the cause of folklore studies, not only in Sweden, but also for the world at large. It is sometimes hard for those who live in a country to appreciate the importance of their own work in relation to the world as a whole. Long before I was honored with membership in Gustav Adolf Academy and thus established close bonds with Swedish folklorists, I was aware of the leadership Sweden has taken in folklore research of every kind. I knew, for example, that all members of the staff of Irish Folklore Commission had gone to Sweden to receive their training. Closer acquaintance with the folklore archives at Lund, Göteborg and Uppsala confirmed my impression that Swedish folklore research was being carried on at a very high level and that, especially in the organization of its collecting activities and in its systematic archiving, Sweden was furnishing a lesson to the rest of the world. It is a matter of concern therefore to folklorists everywhere that the very fine organized work of Swedish folklore should not only be maintained at its very high level but expanded wherever possible. We have just finished an eight week session of the Folklore Institute of America. One of the important contributions to the Institute was a series of lectures descriptive of the Swedish methods of collecting and archiving. With us, systematic archiving is just beginning, and our collecting has not been properly coordinated. All members of our Institute were greatly enlightened by these lectures, and I believe that the whole course of collecting and archiving of folklore in this country will be affected by these lectures. They were given by Dr. Sven Liljeblad, of whose work you doubtless know. Dr. Liljeblad’s success in these lectures moves me to call your attention to his availability for a chair of folklore. I hope that if such a chair is established at Stock- holm he will be given favorable consideration. I do not need to speak of Dr. Liljeblad’s work on Sweden before his coming to the United States in 1939. His reputation was already international. He is thoroughly trained, not only in folklore techniques, but also in the languages, literatures, and the ethnographic background so desirable as a qualification of the really important folklorist. It will be recalled that aside from his special studies in the folktale, he did field “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden” 35 work in Lapland, he did much toward the preparation of classification and the questionnaires used in Landsmålsarkivet, he collaborated in the editing of the series of books on Svenska Sagor och Sägner and also did much of the editorial work for the still unpublished Lappish collection of O. P. Petersen. He had long wished to supplement his knowledge of the folklore and folk life of Sweden by an acquaintance at first hand with some primitive peoples. When I saw him in 1935, I urged this course as a Swedish folklorist immeasurably better than if he confined his researches entirely to his own country. For such study he received in 1938 the Zorn Stipendium and came to America shortly after the outbreak of the war. After several months study with me on the folktale, he proceeded to the University of California where he worked with the distinguished group of anthropologists at the university and also consulted frequently with Professor Archer Taylor. In due time he went to Southern Idaho to study the Bannack and Shoshone Indians in that region. He has made three lengthy sejours with those Indians and will, within the next few days, revisit them for a month. He became thoroughly acquainted with the tribe and made extensive collections of texts from them. These texts he has recorded phono- graphically and has analyzed linguistically. He now has in preparation a very extensive work on these two tribes. He will do what I think has not been done before for any American Indian tribe. That is, he will publish accurate texts with linguistic analysis, a good translation, and (very important for folklore studies) a stylistic study of the narrative art of these people. I have seen the work and it is nearing completion but it is a large undertaking and I should expect that it might still be some time before its actual appearance. Besides this major piece of research, Dr Liljeblad has had many experiences in America which will doubtless be very valuable to him in the future. Under the auspices of the American-Scandinavian foundation he has delivered lectures in a number of our larger universities. In the summer 1942 and again this summer he has been on the staff of the Folklore Institute of America and has delivered lectures on archiving and collecting. He also assisted in our American war effort, when for more than a year he taught the trainees for the army in Indiana University. He helped us with our studies in “area” and very successfully gave lectures to these classes on Russian history and culture and on Finnish history and culture. In doing this, he displayed not only intelligence of a high order but also unbounded industry, since many of his lectures had to be prepared on the basis of Russian texts. During the last two years he has been a special lecturer in Harvard University under the auspices of the Swedish embassy and he has been appointed for a third year. In his lectures on Swedish literature and life, he has been much helped by his thorough knowledge of Swedish folklore. Mr. Liljeblad has made a very favorable impression in America. To my knowledge he has received offers of positions in American universities but has always de- clined them since he planned to return to Sweden. I feel that these years in America have demanded much of him and that he has continually grown in intellectual stature to meet these demands. Any further testimony I could give concerning Dr. Liljeblad’s work or concerning the desirability of the establishment of this folklore chair, I should be very glad to furnish. Respectfully yours Stith Thompson Professor of English and Folklore 36 Nils-Arvid Bringéus Tylor Starck on Sven Liljeblad On 24 August 1946 Taylor Starck, chairman of the Department of Germanic Languages and Literature, Harvard University, wrote to Fredrik Ström: Dear Mr. Ström: I have been asked to write to you about the work of Dr. Sven Liljeblad during his connection with Harvard University. I have known Dr. Liljeblad since he came to Cambridge in the fall of 1944. I had not known him before that, but we have a great many mutual friends and from them and others I have also learned of his activities during his entire stay in the United States. First concerning his work at Harvard: Dr. Liljeblad was appointed a Research Fellow in Germanic Languages and Lit- eratures, an appointment which carried all the privileges of a faculty member and made him one of the teaching staff. As a member of our Department, Dr. Liljeblad has given courses in elementary Swedish, in Swedish literature and in Scandina- vian civilization. He has, in addition, done a great deal of special work in conference with students who were planning special studies in the Scandinavian field. Dr. Liljeblad is a splendid lecturer and an unusually fine teacher. I have heard him lecture myself, and since we consulted constantly concerning his courses, I know with what pedagogical skill, diligence, and profound knowledge of all that has to do with Scandinavian literature and civilization he carried on his work. An indication of his success is the fact that this year, for the first time in the history of the University, as far as I know, two students have expressed their desire to “concentrate”, that is to do their main work, in the field of Scandinavian Languages and Literatures. As you know, the Boston area contains very few people of Scandina- vian descent, as compared with the middle western states, so that the students’ thoughts do naturally turn to Scandinavia, and their interest was aroused sufficiently to impel two of them to devote their main studies to the field is a great tribute to Dr. Liljeblad’s success. I am not an anthropologist and can, therefore, have no expert opinion on Dr. Lilje- blad’s attainments and scholarship in that field. But as a philologist and one who has been actively interested in folklore all his life, I can testify that Dr. Liljeblad is outstanding as a folklorist, and that his attainments as a linguist are such that he is the equal of many who have devoted themselves especially to that discipline. I have had occasion to talk with Liljeblad in great detail about his work among the Shoshone Indians. The language of that tribe had never been recorded. Liljeblad mastered the language, recorded a great deal of their real literature and colloquial speech, developing an orthographical analysis of the language and in the solution of the many problems connected with its relation to other Indian languages. This was his chief task in the United States. He has material, in various stages of completion, for several comprehensive monographs. He is, at the present moment, again with the Indians, collecting more material. Liljeblad has been extremely busy in many ways during his six years in this country. Of his work in the Army School in Indiana where he taught, you already know, – probably also the many tasks he has undertaken in Washington and elsewhere, in collecting and making available information about the Scandinavian countries. He has devoted a great deal of time in Cambridge to a survey of the Scandinavian collection in the Harvard University Library and has prepared comprehensive lists of books to be ordered to fill the gaps. Many of these he has ordered himself. He has been in every respect a magnificent cultural emissary of Sweden. “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden” 37 As a person, he has gained the respect and affection of all who have come in contact with him. He is very popular with his students. I think that his scholar-ship, pedagogical ability and personality make him a first class candidate for a professorship in the State Högskola at Stockholm, in the field of “folkminnes-forskning.”

Fredrik Ström on Sven Liljeblad One of those whom von Sydow engaged in the work on Sven Liljeblad’s behalf was the author and member of parliament Fredrik Ström, himself a good collector and publisher of folklore. In a letter to Ström dated 14 July 1941, von Sydow had written about Liljeblad and another folklorist, Walde- mar Liungman, who were both potential candidates for a post as docent in Stockholm: Liungman’s works are far too one-sided and use dubious methods. The migration of traditions is the only thing he looks for and is interested in, besides which he has read far too little. He is rich, owns a country estate in Värmland and a stately villa in Djursholm and has a lot of money, but he wants the poor position of docent, even though he knows that Liljeblad needs it to earn his daily bread (original in Swedish, Bringéus 2006:154). In the letter to Kenneth Jackson from Mistelås in 1946, von Sydow wrote (in Swedish): “The member of parliament and author Fredrik Ström, who is a fine and knowledgeable man with a great interest in folk traditions, and who for many years has been chairman of Stockholm City Council, has informed me that he intends to prevail upon the City of Stockholm to establish a professorship of folklore for Sven Liljeblad”. In the minutes of Stockholm City Council for the years 1946–1949, however, there is no mention of a professorship for Sven Liljeblad. What did Fredrik Ström do when he had received so much support from the American professors to help Sven Liljeblad towards a chair of folklore? In a letter of 10 July 1946 to von Sydow he wrote (in Swedish) that he was “doing what I can to bring about a professorship of folklore at Stockholms Högskola and a professorship of Icelandic in Uppsala.” In a new letter to von Sydow dated 28 May 1947 he still hopes that “something can be done for Liljeblad”. On 24 January 1949 von Sydow wrote to Liljeblad to inform him that Fredrik Ström had passed away. Ström’s son, Folke Ström of the City Library in Göteborg, had written in his letter of thanks (in Swedish) to von Sydow: It never ceased to amaze me that he could manage to encompass so many things and so many people with never-failing interest and a good memory, and despite many setbacks and adversities indefatigably continued his struggle for what he considered right. I would like to mention to you that one of the last times I visited him in Hul- tafors, he brought up the subject of Sven Liljeblad; he returned to it several times, and I got the impression that it occupied his thoughts a great deal, and that he felt some anxiety that the matter would not be resolved. 38 Nils-Arvid Bringéus On 20 January 1947 von Sydow wrote to Sven Liljeblad, citing a letter from Sigurd Erixon who wrote (in Swedish): “It may give you pleasure to know that we at the college want a professorship of folklore studies and wish to name Sven Liljeblad explicitly as a suitable candidate.” Erixon is referring here to the deliberations a few days previously in the Faculty of Humanities on account of the 1945 University Working Committee. In a separate statement he wrote: “Desirable, however, that a special professorship of folklore be established as soon as possible at the college. Fortunately, there is already a suitable talent for this, Docent Sven Liljeblad, who is currently working in America.” On 9 January 1947 the Faculty of Humanities declared: “It would be desirable for a special professorship to be established as soon as possible in this discipline [folklore studies]. But at this very time a new subject was created, folklife studies, which included folklore, albeit only peripherally.” The circumstances were therefore scarcely the best to endeavour to achieve a chair of folklore. The correspondence with Fredrik Ström that is published here, which was initiated by the English scholar Kenneth Jackson, sheds light on the attention paid to the research done by C. W. von Sydow and his pupil Sven Lilje- blad. Their work had given Swedish folkloristics an international reputation, which is particularly apparent in comparison with the situation in England. Thanks to their letters to Fredrik Ström, we learn about Sven Liljeblad’s work in America during the first six years. The cited letters are a valuable complement to Jan Öjvind Swahn’s biography, where Liljeblad’s activities in the USA are only glimpsed in passing (Swahn 2003, 2010).

Waldemar Liungman and the Institute for Folklore Studies In the letter from Mistelås to Kenneth Jackson, von Sydow also touches on the folklorist Waldemar Liungman and his research: Perhaps I ought to draw your attention here to some circumstances of some significance for this proposal for a chair for Liljeblad. Liljeblad went out to America in September 1939 with a one-year scholarship. Shortly afterwards, Dr Gunnar Granberg resigned from a position as docent in folklore that he had occupied for a few years at Stockholms Högskola. Then the former docent at Göteborgs Högskola, Waldemar Liungman, asked me for a testimonial so that he could apply to succeed Granberg as docent in folklore. I had envisaged, however, that Liljeblad should get this position when he returned from America, and this is what I told Liungman in reply, which made him furious but he applied all the same. The teachers’ council at the college would have preferred Liljeblad, but recommended appointing Liungman despite my firm objection, since they did not think it proper to refuse a person who had been docent at another college to become one in the same subject. Liungman was given the position. When I objected to Liungman’s appointment it was not only because I considered Liljeblad more suitable but also because I found Liungman downright incompetent. “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden” 39

Waldemar Liungman (1883–1978) Photo: Lund University Library

The dissertation with which he became doctor and then docent in Göteborg was meticulous in many respects, but what rendered the dissertation such a high grade at that time was its migration theory, which looked promising then but has since turned out to be wholly fruitless. If it had been possible to demonstrate this at the doctoral disputation, he would not have earned the title of docent. A beginner’s dissertation, of course, should not be the cause of any difficulties for its author a couple of decades later, but since he still sticks to his false theory in his detailed but inadequate dissertations about “Traditionswanderungen” in FFC, this is a downright disqualification. Perhaps you do not think this has anything to do with Liljeblad, since a Swedish official may not keep his position after the age of 65. Since Liungman has now reached that age, the field should at any rate be open for Liljeblad, but Liungman is inadequate not only as regards scholarship but also morals, as he has shown through Nazi intrigues and in other ways, and he can be expected to try to damage Liljeblad and obstruct the professorship, if nothing else because Liljeblad was in some sense in his way when he applied for the position of docent. Liungman should not, of course, be mentioned in the statement about Liljeblad, but it may be of some importance to know about the prior history of the matter to be able to express oneself with the necessary force. There is at present no Swede without promotion who can be considered equal to Liljeblad in any way when it comes to folklore studies. C. W. von Sydow reports on Waldemar Liungman’s article in Rig 1941, which criticized von Sydow’s doctoral dissertation, Två spinnsagor: But then he applied to become docent without a testimonial from me, and by approaching all the professors in the faculty there, he was recommended by them. I then found it necessary to show how poorly qualified he was and wrote my response 40 Nils-Arvid Bringéus [in Rig 1943]. His application was turned down by the Chancellor but he is now appealing to the King, who I hope will confirm the Chancellor’s decision. I may add that after I turned him down the first time for Liljeblad’s sake, he wrote to Liljeblad and asked him to abstain from the position as docent and simultaneously asked him to break with me. Liljeblad, who is a fine and reserved man, replied that he would like to be docent but was willing to stand back since he did not wish to compete. On the other hand, he saw no reason to break with me. Finally, von Sydow turned to the University Chancellor, Östen Undén, in a letter where he wrote: “Liungman is not at all suited to collaboration, partly because he is such a pusher that he would give himself to the Turk, the Pope, or Satan with equal relish, just as long as it helps him to have his way. He lacks the honesty and authority that is absolutely necessary both for a scholar and for a teacher of youth” (original in Swedish, Bringéus 2006:192). Waldemar Liungman nevertheless became docent. Bengt af Klintberg writes that “he lectured in the years 1943–1954 at Stockholms Högskola on selected folkloristic topics, chiefly folktales and their migrations. There were not many listeners” (af Klintberg 2010:100). One even gets the impression that Liungman’s work at the college was of little significance. But in a letter to Sven Liljeblad on 18 November 1949 von Sydow wrote: “Liung- man watches over Stockholm like a dragon and he has managed, strangely enough, to have won the college over to him.” What von Sydow is referring to is Liungman’s action to establish an institute of folklore at Stockholms Högskola, which both his biographers, Sigfrid Svensson and Bengt af Klint- berg, seem to have missed. In a letter to the vice-chancellor of Stockholms Högskola dated 23 April 1946, Waldemar Liungman presents a proposal to set up an institute of folklore. In eight points he gives examples of the kind of work that could be done at the institute: 1. Compiling an inventory and catalogue of folktales printed in Sweden according to Aarne’s type system. 2. Editing and printing a collection compiled by a teacher in the subject [i.e., Liung- man himself], comprising approximately 50 per cent of the range of types in the country. 3. Editing and printing unpublished folktale material available in various places. 4. Publishing commentaries on these tales and indicating their distribution and the probable time and place of their origin. 5. Cataloguing according to Aarne’s type system of “Die Märchen der Weltlitera- tur.” 6. Compiling a system for legend types, beginning with the folk legends of Sweden. 7. Compiling an inventory and catalogue of folksongs printed in Sweden. 8. Cataloguing collections of folktales, legends, and folksongs stored in different institutional archives in Stockholm according to a type system. Liungman adds that “The State Labour Market Commission has made available to the college three assistants with higher education in language who “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden” 41 have been assigned to the teacher of folklore. With their help it has been possible to start the above work already. The continuation of these tasks and the adoption of new ones can only be assured within the framework of an institute attached to the college.” In a letter dated the same day to the Board of Stockholms Högskola, Liungman requests the ratification of statutes drawn up by him. According to these, the management of the institute would consist of a director and two other persons. On 27 April the Faculty of Humanities decided to ask Professor Sigurd Erixon to state his opinion of the proposal. Erixon’s response included this statement: At this very moment … a major Scandinavian action has been started to establish an international institute of folktale research in Copenhagen. Through the Gustav Adolf Academy a large-scale project has been launched to publish Swedish folk tales and folk songs, and preparations have been made for the publication of folk legends as well. The planned folklore institute can therefore scarcely undertake more than a part of the registration, excerpting, and publishing that is planned. … Docent Liungman’s initiative and energetic research are of course something that ought to be utilized, and folklore studies ought to be able to find a home within the framework of the college, to grow and be promoted within it. I therefore consider it appropriate that a preliminary organization be created, and that Docent Liungman be given the possibility, through an institute of a more temporary character, to start suitable parts of his work programme, but that no decision should now be taken about definitive statutes for this institute. In the faculty’s deliberations on 26 October 1946 it was clear that Sigurd Erixon and Waldemar Liungman had agreed that the institute could be set up without awaiting the impending change in the regulation of the subject of ethnology. It is thus assumed that the College will not need to incur any expenses whatever for the institute; the necessary funding will be acquired by Docent Liungman privately. Furthermore, the work at the institute will be coordinated with the work pursued at the Institute of Folklife Studies shared by Stockholms Högskola and the Nordic Mu- seum. After discussion the faculty decided to request the Board to establish an institute of folklore studies at the college on the terms suggested by Docent Liungman in his letter of 23 April and on the conditions presented above by Professor Erixon. Estab- lishing the statutes of the institute ought to wait until the position of the subject of Nordic ethnology at the college has been regulated. The faculty decided to nominate an interim board for the institute, proposing Vice-Chancellor Professor Tunberg as chairman, Professor Erixon and Docent Liungman, and with Docent Liungman as acting director. Sigurd Erixon was undoubtedly playing a double game by supporting von Sydow’s hopes for a professorship of folklore at Stockholms Högskola for Sven Liljeblad and simultaneously backing Liungman’s institute of folklore. 42 Nils-Arvid Bringéus It is not stated who the three persons were who were made available by the Labour Market Commission, but there are good grounds for concluding that one of them was Carl-Herman Tillhagen. He would go on to become su- perintendent of the staff that the Nordic Museum received from the Labour Market Commission (af Klintberg 2010). Waldemar Liungman could thus continue the planned work of the Insti- tute of Folklore. His financial independence meant that he could publish his books privately and in lavish form (af Klintberg 2010:101). The planned projects, however, were on far too large a scale to be possible for Liungman to complete. But he undoubtedly helped to ensure that much work for the benefit of folklore was performed in Stockholm, where the study of folk legends was carried on by Carl Herman Tillhagen and Bengt af Klintberg.

Sven Liljeblad Returns to Sweden Sven Liljeblad certainly longed to get back to Sweden. He wrote to von Sydow from Harvard on 6 December 1946: “In the first years here I was never homesick. They passed quickly. Now they drag by. … It was only after I arrived here that the homesickness became hard to bear. But not so much in the winter, mostly in the spring and summer.” In retrospect, one might think that Liljeblad would hardly have had anything to gain by returning to Sweden. Through the letters from Jackson, Ty- lor, and Starck we get a strong impression of his achievements in the USA and how popular he was among colleagues and students alike. In Sweden, on the other hand, intrigues robbed him of a position as university teacher. C. W. von Sydow wrote in his last letter to Liljeblad: “It would please me greatly if I had been able to give you good news about everything you wish for here, but I cannot possibly find anything that would give you pleasure. A true source of joy that I have found is that you have by your side an excellent wife, for which we, your old friends, are very happy.” It was not until 1992 that Sven Liljeblad returned to settle in Solna together with his wife, Astrid von Heine. He died on 17 March 2000, at the age of 101.

(Translated by Alan Crozier)

Nils-Arvid Bringéus Professor Emeritus of Ethnology Galjevångsvägen 4 SE-224 65 Lund Sweden e-mail: [email protected] “Nowadays We All Look to Sweden” 43 References Unpublished Göteborg University Library Letters to Fredrik Ström from Kenneth Jackson, Tylor Starck, Stith Thompson.

Lund University Library Draft letters from C. W. von Sydow to Kenneth Jackson, and Stith Thompson. Letters to C. W. von Sydow from Kenneth Jackson, Fredrik Ström, and Stith Thompson. Published works Almqvist, Bo 2002: von Sydow agus Éire. Scoláire Sualannach agus an Léann Ceilteach [von Sydow and Ireland. A Swedish Scholar and Celtic Studies]. Béa- loideas 70 (with summary in English). Almqvist, Bo 2010: Kenneth Jackson and Peig Sayers. The Creation of Scéalta ón mBlascaod. Béaloideas 78. Almqvist, Bo 2011: Kenneth Jackson and Peig Sayers. The Perfect Memory. Béa- loideas 79. Bringéus, Nils-Arvid 2006: Carl Wilhelm von Sydow som folklorist. Stockholm. Bringéus, Nils-Arvid 2009: Carl Wilhelm von Sydow a Swedish Pioneer in Folklore. Academica Scientiarum Fennica. Helsinki. af Klintberg, Bengt 2010: Waldemar Liungman (1883–1978). Svenska etnologer och folklorister, ed. Mats Hellspong & Fredrik Skott. Stockholm. Svensson, Sigfrid 1980–1981: Liungman, Carl Gudmund Waldemar. Svenskt bio- grafiskt lexikon 23. Stockholm. Swahn, Jan-Öjvind 2003: Sven Liljeblad som folklorist. Saga och Sed 2003. Swahn, Jan-Öjvind 2010: Sven Liljeblad. Svenska etnologer och folklorister, ed. Mats Hellspong & Fredrik Skott. Stockholm.

44 Nils-Arvid Bringéus Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 45 Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland

Terry Gunnell

Post-Reformation Clerics It might be said that the key role played by Icelandic clerics in collecting and writing about Icelandic folklore was not an innovation of the nineteenth century but goes back to the arrival of the Protestant church, if not before. And then, as in the mid-nineteenth century when the first formal wave of folklore collection took place, it seems that attitudes varied greatly by individual. Es- sentially, we are dealing for the main part with learned individuals with time on their hands, and interest in the lives of their parishioners, rather than hell-fire priests. We are also dealing with individuals that grew up in the countryside where folk tradition had played a natural part in their childhood surroundings. In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, it seems that not only Protes- tant priests but also bishops were deeply involved in research into folk beliefs: a row of Icelandic bishops composed historical or geographical accounts of Iceland which contain matter of fact statements about sea and lake monsters, trolls, ghosts, spirits, devils, sea cows, mermaids, changelings, and the sexual and washing habits of “elves” (álfar). One bishop of Skálholt, Brynjólfur Sveinsson (serving between 1639 and 1674), had even planned a whole treatise on “elves”.1 This was during a period when 20 people were burned for witchcraft in Iceland, two at the request of a cleric who seems to have had a protracted bout of flu in 1656.2 Things changed slightly during the time of the Enlightenment. The official approach (led by Copenhagen) was reflected in the Danish Bishop Erik Pontoppidan’s Everriculum fermenti veteris (Sweeping Out the Old Sour Dough: 1736), which was designed to wipe out the old beliefs and traditions of the rural populace in Denmark (but in fact helped record them in print for posterity). The influence of such works in Iceland can be clearly seen in an unpublished treatise against dance traditions, Manducus eður leikfæla (AM 963 4to), written shortly after 1757 by the furious and shocked Icelandic cleric, Séra Þorsteinn Pétursson (1710–1785). In part 46 Terry Gunnell upset by the drinking and fornication that formed part of the dance gatherings, Þorsteinn also stresses that “those who make themselves costumes of tatters for dance-games and private parties are the Devil’s apes and a laughing-stock, hateful to the angels, God, and all good people.”3 Accord- ing to Þorsteinn, the Bible clearly shows that disguise traditions, like all kinds of theatre,4 all go back to the Devil appearing in snake disguise in a tree in Eden.

The Collection of Icelandic Folkloric Material This leads us to the state of things a hundred years later in the developing Icelandic nation in the national-romantically-inspired mid-nineteenth century. As in Norway, Denmark and Sweden,5 almost all of the key early Ice- landic movers and shakers in the collection and preservation of folkloric material were clerics or came from clerical families. Magnús Grímsson and Jón Árnason, the collectors of the first two collections of Icelandic folk legends, Íslenzk æfintýri (1852) and Íslenzkar þjóðsögur og æfintýri (1862– 1864) were respectively a cleric and the son of a cleric who had been brought up by three other clerics. Ólafur Davíðsson (1862–1903), Jón’s great nephew, who took over from Jón Árnason as the editor of the first collection of riddles, rhymes, games and dance verses (Íslenzkar gátur, skemtanir, vikivakar og þulur: 1887–1903) was also the son of a cleric; and the same applies to Jón Sigurðsson, seen as the champion of Iceland’s independence, who was also closely involved in the publication process of the folktales.6 Jónas Jónasson (1856–1918), the first real collector of ethnology and folk ways (Íslenzkar þjóðhættir: 1932), was an influential cleric in the north of Iceland (see Gunnell 2008). Things were to change later, but in the nineteenth century, Icelandic clerics were central for the collection of Ice- landic folklore, not only as organisers, but also as active collectors assisting the organisers. I have elsewhere discussed the nationalistic agenda involved in the first collection of Icelandic folk legends (Gunnell 2010). What I am more interested in examining here is the network of clerics that was involved in Jón Árnason’s collection of folk legends in the mid nineteenth century: why they were involved – or not involved – and what they felt about what they were involved in. Why were their attitudes so different to those of Séra Þor- steinn Pétursson, noted above. As I will show in the following, several things become clear from this examination: first of all, just as in the earlier period noted above, it is impossible to talk about any general clerical attitude existing in Iceland – or indeed Scandinavia and Britain at this time –, disassociating it from a more generally book-learned attitude to the thoughts and behaviour of the rural folk (also felt by doctors, lawyers, teachers and other members of official- Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 47 dom). Icelandic clerics differed greatly in their thoughts and approaches, just as they do now, and regarding the fervour of their religious beliefs, it is questionable how many of those involved had ever felt a particular “calling” to be a cleric. Many of them (34% in 1850–1900) came from clerical families, and following in their parents’ footsteps was natural. It was simply one of the few non-practical jobs open to those with a learned background (outside jobs with the Danish government): 40% of graduates from the only Latin School went into the church in 1850–1900 (60% in the previous 50 years: Pétur Pétursson 1990, 34 and 39). It gave you a particular social standing, and access to a particular social hierarchy.7 Secondly, very few clerics at this time seem to have judged the value and quality of this material on the basis of its superstitious nature (in other words, its threat to Christian belief). Unlike the dance games of the eighteenth century, comparatively few moral threats were posed by these narratives (which would have been something different). For most, it was a question of the cultural, literary and historical value of the material, and here there was a great deal of disagreement. Thirdly, the involvement of the Icelandic clerics in folktale collection was often not so much as a result of their respect for the material, but more often due to the fact that clerics in Iceland, as elsewhere, formed part of several social networks: As noted already, they were often genealogically inter- linked; and almost all of them went to the same schools where they bonded as part of a social and learned elite. Unlike most of the rest of the nation, they did not have to take part in fishing or farming activities. As some of these close colleagues went abroad to study, these networks also gave local access to a range of contemporary foreign ideas by means of books, journals and letters, all of which provided added support to the idea that this material might actually have national cultural value and a role in the creation of a new national cultural identity.8

The “Grimm Ripples” in Iceland Certainly, in many ways, as elsewhere, it might be argued that the eventual “official” collection of folk legends in Iceland by Jón Árnason and others in the mid-nineteenth century was not home grown, but owes at root a great deal to outside influence. It owes especially much to people working in the foreign capitals, and most particularly to foreign academia and those friends and relations who were working within it. Not least, it owes a great deal to Herder and the Grimms, and the “Grimm ripples” which formed part of the national romantic movement of the early nineteenth century. In- deed, in some ways, it might be said that Jón Árnason’s use of the clerical network to collect material in Iceland has roots in an earlier national clerical collection of geographical, social, political, archaeological and 48 Terry Gunnell cultural material regarding all of the Icelandic counties and parishes which had been instigated by the poet, Jónas Hallgrímsson (1807–1845), one of Iceland’s key cultural and nationalistic saints, in 1838–1839: the so-called Sýslu- og sóknalýsingar. The survey was eventually run by a committee made up of Jónas himself and five other romantically-inspired Icelanders working, studying or researching in Copenhagen: Finnur Magnússon (1781–1847), Konráð Gíslason (1808–1891), Brynjólfur Pétursson (1810–1851) and the earlier mentioned “national father”, Jón Sigurðsson (1811–1879). Funded by the Copenhagen-run Icelandic Literary Society (Hið ízlenska bókmenntafélag), it was sent out to all parish priests and local provosts in the country. Most of them answered (even if it took them thirty years, and a reminder or so).9 There is no question that these county and parish descriptions (sýlsu- og sóknalýsingar), which contained one question (nr. 58) about the nature of local entertainments, also formed part of a particular nationalistic agenda: As the committee states in the accompanying letter: “It is essential that every nation has a detailed knowledge of the land it inhabits” (“Það er harla áríðandi hvörri þjóð að þekkja til hlítar landið sem hún býr í”: Dalasýsla 2003, 2). Indeed, three of the committee, Jónas, Konráð and Brynjólfur, had earlier in 1835–1847, along with Tómas Sæmundsson (1807–1841) (later a priest in Breiðabólsstaður in Fljótshlíð), started the influential nationally- romantic inspired journal Fjölnir which appeared nine times between 1835 and 1847.10 Among other things, the journal called for support for Icelandic language and Icelandic culture, and political independence. Considering the other two committee members involved in the collection of the county and parish surveys in 1839, the politician and philologist Jón Sigurðsson, son of a cleric and head of both the Literary Society and the Ice- landic parliament (1849–1853; 1857; and 1867–77) should be borne in mind. The last name is that of Finnur Magnússon, himself the grandson of one bishop (Finnur Jónsson), and brought up by another (Hannes Finnsson). Finnur was professor and librarian in Copenhagen. Unfortunately largely neglected today, he was one of the foremost scholars of Nordic mythology in his time, closely connected to Oehlenschläger, Nikolaj Grundtvig, and Rasmus Rask and the Indo-European movement. He was also the first editor of the other key Copenhagen-based Icelandic historical and literary journal Skírnir (1827). The potential use of the clerical network was not new to Finnur. In 1817, on behalf of the Commission for the Preservation of Ar- chaeological Materials (Commisionen for Oldsagens Opbevaring), he had previously (without much success) sent his own questionnaire to the Icelan- dic bishop and other Icelandic clerics asking about archaeological sites, and legends connected to them.11 It might be remembered that this was a year after the publication of the first volume of the Grimms’ Deutsche sagen Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 49 (1816), something which seems to have had more influence on Finnur than Kinder und Hausmärchen did.12 The call for the collection of legends and rare ancient poems in general (rather than wonder tales) was echoed again in another comparatively un- successful call from the Bókmenntafélag in 1838, at the same time that Jónas Hallgrímsson was preparing his own call for parish descriptions from clerics. It was, however, already twenty years since the first part of Theile’s Danish collection of folk tales had appeared (1818–1823), and five years since the publication of Andreas Faye’s Norske Sagn (1833). The key figures involved in considering Icelandic independence were aware that little collecting had been going on in Iceland, home of the sagas and Eddic poems. The importance of the preservation of such traditional oral material was thus simultaneously backed up by a Fjölnir article (“Fjölnir”, in Fjölnir, 4, 3–18), probably written by Konráð Gíslason in the same year (1838). Among other things, this stated: “Our common people, and especially older people – men and women – know many of these stories, which people have ceased caring for, and are generally referred to as “ligasögur” (lit. lying stories: fictions), “bábiljur” (lit. superstitions) and “kerlingabækur” (lit. old wives’ books). There is though more truth in them than people suppose, and many would prove to be interesting, noteworthy or have amusing origins; sometimes they have been inspired by something that has actually taken place; sometimes they come from afar; sometimes they are totally made up. They are often very old indeed. The same applies the many old poems (fornkvæði: i.e. ballads) which still exist in the country. It would be good if clerics and other learned parties [my italics] who had the possibility of doing so, could start keeping an eye open for everything of this kind that exists in their vicinity, have it written up, and have it sent to a safe place, such as the library in Reykjavík, so that what remains does not get lost in the future” (p.13).13 It seems that some clerics may have heeded the call, but far from enough. Two more detailed requests for similar material (again essentially legends and poems rather than wonder tales) were then made in Danish and Icelan- dic in 1845 and 1846 by another international networker well aware of the potential cultural value of collecting folklore: the English philologist and runologist George Stephens (1813–1895) who was working in Sweden, and had published Svenska Folk-Sagor og Æfventyr with Hyltén-Cavallius a year earlier.14 The call was this time made on behalf of the Royal Nordic Society of Antiquities (Hið Konunglega Norræna Fornfræðafélag), which included among its members Finnur Magnússon, Jón Sigurðsson and Jón Árnason’s current employer Sveinbjörn Egilsson. While the request was now sent by means of a learned journal to all its readers (not just the clerics who made up a large per cent of these readers), it clearly echoes the earlier Fjölnir call, attempting to play on Icelandic national pride with the state- 50 Terry Gunnell ment that: “Old Iceland [“det Gamle Island”], in terms of “Folk History”, stands above any other country in or outside Europe; modern Iceland is perhaps the only place in Europe where no collection has been made of folk tales, songs, heroic ballads and legends from the mouths of the common people. Whether such survivals could help shed light on Nordic mythology and history, we cannot say. But it is likely to help improve our knowledge of popular archaeology and poetry” (Stephens 1843–1845).15 The results were now a little more effective. Two clerics, Páll Jónsson at Myrká (1812–1889 (Úr forum, I, 92–94: letter 3/2/59) and Magnús Grímsson (1825–1860) made collections of material, Magnús sending a copy of his records to Copenhagen (Ferðabók Magnús 1988, xxiv).16 An- other apparent result of this call was that Jón Árnason and Magnús Grímsson went on to actually publish their first modest collection of folk tales Íslenzk æfintýri in 1852. However, the reception was again such that they near enough abandoned the idea of following up on the enterprise. This in itself provides a clear image of the state of things. The tide seems to have turned when Jón and Magnús were pressed back into action by another foreigner, Konrad Maurer, a friend of the Grimms and the Norwegian folk tale collector, Peter Christen Asbjørnsen.17 Mau- rer had travelled around Iceland in 1858, staying with many clerics and collecting folk material which was later published in Leipzig in his Islän- dische Volksagen der Gegenwart (1860) (see Maurer 1997; and Gunnell 2010). He had met Magnús Grímsson and was put into contact with Jón Árnason by another cleric, Séra Jón Þorleifsson (1825–1860: Úr forum, I, 69–70: letter 24/9/58). Newly inspired as to the international interest in his work, Jón Árnason now sent a new call to people around the country (especially to a number of clerics, and in particular to relations and old school friends) both privately and in the local journals Norðri (1859) and Íslend- ingur (1861) (see Guðbrandur Vigfússon 1954: xxxv–xxxvi).18 It was as a result of this, Maurer’s own encouragement to clerics during his visit, and the eventual appearance of Maurer’s book in 1860 that material gradually started coming in (after a very slow start).19 The end result was the large two-volume edition of Ízlenskar þjóðsögur og æfintýri which appeared in 1862–1864. (Indeed, the later complete collection, published in 1954– 1961, amounted to a total of six volumes.) A large amount of this material had been collected and recorded by a total of 36 clerics (along with a variety of other collectors).

A Lack of Clerical Interest Two key questions arise: Certainly, as noted above, these facts underline that clerics had a key role in the initial collection of folklore in Iceland, just as they had elsewhere. But why had they sent so little material in Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 51

Eirúkur Kúld (1822–1893, priest in Stykkishólmur 1860–1893). (Picture courtesy of the website of the Icelandic Alþingi: http://www.althingi.is.) answer to earlier requests; and why was Jón Árnason’s collection more effective? To start with, the fact must be faced that most clerics were not terribly interested in the material, which was largely passed on orally in the evenings on farms outside their immediate jurisdiction. Most clerics, for logical reasons, respected “the book” (thereby echoing the ideas expressed in Fjölnir, 5 [1839] on the importance of book-learning and reading for national development). They had all had a somewhat rationalist20 learned upbringing in the Latin School in the south of Iceland (previously in Skálholt and Bessastaðir and now in Reykjavík), before going on to either the Theological Seminary (Prestaskóli21) in Reykjavík (the only university-level education available in Iceland). A few had gone on to learn theology in the University of Copen- hagen (see further Pétur Pétursson 1990, 29–40). For them, social value had arisen as a result of “the book”. In comparison, oral literature was little more than air. In their answers to the county and parish questionnaires of 1839, most clerics state simply without any further comment that the most popular entertainments, outside work22 and a few games, are conversation, the reading aloud of books (sagas, the Bible and other religious works), the telling of stories, and the chanting of ballads (rímur). One cleric nonetheless expresses his disapproving judgement on this latter material when he sneers at how people were “for the most part still wailing damned rímur” (“Enn að orga bannsettar rímurnar mestmegnis”, a direct reference to an earlier Fjölnir statement made by Jónas Hallgrímsson, who was far from fond of this brand of poetry).23 As noted previously, 36 of the 127 who collected and sent material in to 52 Terry Gunnell Jón Árnason were clerics, most clerics in their thirties or forties (a similar age to Jón himself). 15 of them, like Skúli Gíslason, Eírikur Kúld, Finnur Þorsteinsson, Guðmundur Bjarnason, Guðmundur Einarsson, Jón Kristjáns- son, Jón Norðmann, Jón Þorðarson, Páll Jónsson, Sigurður Gunnarsson, Sveinbjörn Guðmundsson, Sveinn Níelsen and Magnús Grímsson, were main providers of material. Some, like Skúli and Páll, were known as being excellent storytellers (and preachers) in their own right. Nonetheless, against this one might remember that there were around 170 clerics working in Iceland at this time, all of whom could have sent material (Pétur Pétursson 1990, 41). In the second version of an introduction which Jón Árnason was prevented from publishing by the more diplomatic Copenhagen elite that stood between him and the printing press in Leipzig, Jón writes: “Even though some clerics are not lacking in superstition and heresy, as the oral legends demonstrate, many of them wanted to wipe out such beliefs, which is understandable. Indeed, the disapproval of some of the more forceful priests was such that certain individuals who were engaged in studying ancient fields, which was called magic in order to blacken the name of both them and their work in the eyes of the public, were persecuted24 […]. One can sympathise with the priests whose direct duty it was to wipe out the superstition and heresy from their congregations, but with the loss of this superstition, other things were lost: because once you had introduced the disgust for oral literature and antiquities (fornfræði) amongst the public, the direct result of this is that people stop ‘telling stories’. Indeed, the state of things is such that very few can tell about such events historically and in a professional fashion, even though the stories themselves have survived” (Jón Árnason 1954–1961, I, XVII–XVIII).25 One nonetheless needs to be careful about drawing quick conclusions with regard to these complaints of negativity or lack of assistance. There were obviously several reasons. One of them was the fear many people had of passing on such information to the learned clerics, many of whom, even though they had grown up in rural areas, were seen as comparative outsiders within the local community in which they worked. As Konrad Maurer himself writes in the introduction to his own collection of Icelandic folk legends (Maurer 1860, viii (1860, 60), “People are ashamed of themselves for their beliefs, and hardly admit their beliefs to themselves, let alone others. Many know very few of the old oral accounts, and even more despise them as superstitious rubbish (bábiljur) and old wives’ tales, and are afraid they would be making themselves and their nation a laughing stock if they told foreigners such things”. Then there was the personal opinion of the learned clerics themselves. Maurer adds (probably from his personal experience of meeting and staying with over 70 clerics as he travelled the country in 1858 [see Maurer 1997]), “Many clerics, and especially those of the older generation, actually despise Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 53

Sigurður Gunnarsson (1812–1878, priest in Desjamýri 1844–1861; and Hallorms- staður 1861–1878). (Picture courtesy of the website of the Icelandic Alþingi: http: //www. althingi.is.) these stories, and are frightened, if not for the spiritual health of their parishioners, then for their image as true Christians, if they hear that such material is being collected” (Sigurður Nordal 1971–1972, I, l).26 Such ideas were also reflected to some degree in the later reception of the collection when it was eventually published. As Jón Sigurðsson notes in a letter to Jón Árnason in 1873, some felt that “the folk tales were the lowest kind of nonsense, superstition and heretical belief, and put both the Literary Society [which supported the publication] and Icelanders themselves to shame.”27 Arguably it was for this same reason, in other words, the fear of offending the clergy and others, that Jón Árnason and Magnús Grímsson had earlier deliberately chosen relatively harmless wonder-tale like legends for their first small collection (1852). Here they also go out of their way to stress that such material, the “poetic creation of the nation” (skáldskapur þjóðarinnar), had previously been respectfully published by the Danes and Germans (cf. Fjölnir noted above and Gunnell 2010). It had national importance: “With regard to the material itself, it is rich and variable, and often shows the level of knowledge that the nation has reached; and the wealth of heresies/ delusions and superstitions – as they are now called – that have lived amongst the nation. In this sense, the folk tales are very important for the history of our nation’s education. They are a kind of latter-day Edda, or a mythology, which time has altered or changed.28 In their letters to Jón Árnason during the process of collection, several clerics stress that people are often wary of giving them material, partly as a result of the earlier Enlightenment approach: As Séra Jón Þorleifsson (1825–1860), who had first encouraged Maurer to contact Jón Árnason (Úr 54 Terry Gunnell forum, I, 69–70: letter 24/9/58), writes, following a complaint that education has almost killed off traditional narrative: “As Dr Maurer discovered, the common people, at least the most intelligent of them, do not dare to say fan- tastic traditionis, because the common people no longer recognise real poetry. For this reason, you can’t get any stories, even if they are known, except from imbeciles who don’t know how to tell them”.29 Séra Jón later complains: “I can’t get the best material from the real believers, because they don’t see the purpose, and regard it as throwing pearls to swine to let a non-believer write it up; but the non-believers tell you the most and the best stories. However, even though they are well told, the naivety which is a feature of many such stories is lost, and it is hardly possible to imitate it in such a way that the childish, clear honesty remains (Úr forum, I, 74–75: letter 10/10/58).30 Similar difficulties in getting people to tell them stories were experienced by Jón Árnason’s nephew, Séra Jón Þórðarson (1825–1885), at Auðkúla (Úr fórum, I, 86),31 and one of his most staunch supporters, Séra Sigurður Gun- narsson (1812–1878) at Desjamýri (Úr fórum, I, 88–89; and 262–263).32

The Legacy of the Enlightenment Another explanation given by clerics for the lack of material was that the narrative tradition had already been half wiped from memory by the processes of the Enlightenment. Jón Þorleifsson’s complaint about the influence of education (see above) is echoed by one of Jón Árnason’s best collectors, Séra Páll Jónsson (1812–1889), who writes that “nowadays many fewer oral narratives are told than in the time of my youth. I see the reason for the weakening of superstition being the growth in enlightenment. Also the stories have gradually faded from memory to the degree that less and less people had interest in hearing them told” (Úr fórum, I, 184: letter: 7/2/60).33 Similar feelings are expressed by another key collector and storyteller, Séra Skúli Gíslason (1825– 1888), who, like Páll Jónsson, was one of the few who had been educated in Copenhagen. In one letter, Skúli echoes Jón Þorleifsson in complaining about the effects of what he calls “half education”, in other words, people who are not educated enough to appreciate real art.34 Certainly, several clerics seem to have frowned on the literary quality of the material. Skúli Gíslason complains that it does not help when collecting material that many of those who see themselves as educated “make fun of” this kind of material (Úr fórum, I, 103: letter: 31/4/59). He adds: “the taste of some learned men in this regard is hardly believable” (Úr forum, I, 105).35 The attitudes in question are nonetheless well reflected by another of Jón Árnason’s key collectors, his old school friend, Séra Sigurður Gunnarsson, who refers several times to the material he is sending (if he sees it worth sending at all), as “pure fantasies” (“argar lygisögur”) (Úr forum, I, 146: Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 55

Björn Halldórsson (1823–1882, priest in Laufás 1853–1882). (Picture courtesy of the website of the Icelandic Alþingi: http// www.althingi.is.) letter 28/9/58) and “badly written… rubbish” (“4–5 örk af þvættingi, illa skrifað og rangt”: Úr forum, I, 147: letter: 28/9/58).36 Other clerics express a certain bewilderment about the value of the material: Séra Björn Halldórsson (1823–1882), another old school friend of Jón’s who did not send any material, writes: “Unfortunately, I will not be able to be much help in this matter, and there are several reasons for this: First and foremost, I lack the eye of the prophet to comprehend why this sort of material is as valuable as the friends of antiquities preach. For my own part, I enjoy these old superstitions, poems and wonder tales, but it passes my ears like the wind, and I’m left standing there like ‘the half wit who dreamt that he had eaten his fill, but woke up with an empty stomach’ ”.37 He nonetheless refers to an old woman who knows a great deal, but has a terrible habit of adding flourishes of her own (Úr forum, I, 90–91: letter: 31/1/59; also relevant here is a letter from 16/7/59 in which Björn comments on a lack of goodwill [“velvild”] towards the project).38 A similar statement of incredulity is made by Séra Sveinn Níelssen (1801–1881) of Staðastaður, who sent in a ghost story: “When I was in Þing- eyjasýsla, I heard mention of two ghosts, Húsavíkur-Lalla and Þorgeir’s bull, but I never considered doing anything with such kinds of stories. Thirty years back, some people were still wary of all such stories, but I laughed at that sort of thing. I didn’t take any more notice of it in those days […]. I think the idea of people collecting “elf” and ghost stories would have been seen as nothing more than a (loose) prophecy at the turn of the last century, but tempora mutantur [times change]” (Úr forum, I, 273: letter 20/2/61).39 Some older clerics, such as Séra Árni Helgason, stíftsprófastur in Garðar, 56 Terry Gunnell also seem to have been wary about the idea of such material appearing in print and being made available to the common people. In answer to Jón Árnason sending him proofs of the collection, and asking him whether Jón will be turned out of houses after the book is published, Séra Árni writes that even though he himself never believed in “elves” as a child, he is a touch worried that the book might frighten the young: “There was enough superstition and heresy in this country even in our enlightened age (even though it has not passed), but I foresee – even though looking into the future is no longer done – that it [this superstition] will not be reduced if the public read this book, because one need do no more than print something and everyone believes it; and one needs do no more than tell people who doubt some truth, ‘it is in print’. The kind of collection you mean to publish should appear in Latin, which the public cannot read. It is quite right for the learned, who need to have something to play with because they can neither row out fishing or cut hay. I think that this collection of yours should be accompanied by an essay explaining how it should all be understood” (Úr forum, I, 355– 356: letter: 11/1/62).40 Séra Árni later (27/4/62) writes another letter ex- pressing his feelings about a memorate of how the spirit of a drowned man appeared in Iceland to local people who knew him: “(It’s something psycho- logical.) I don’t understand it. But what do I understand? Not Hegel, not Murinekke, not Marteinsen, not the article written by our Theological Sem- inary on altaris sakram, this blessed Christian ritus.” He adds, “Oh, I wish you’d had more of such accounts [of strange phenomena] in your important collection, and less about hauntings, the raised dead and witches’ familiars” (Úr forum, I, 375–376).41 Similar tentative acceptance of the existence of spirits (later to be reflected in the support for spiritualism expressed by Prof. Haraldur Níelsen and the Theology Department of the University of Iceland in the early twentieth century) is expressed in a letter by Séra Guðmundur Einarsson (1816–1882) of Kvennabrekka (who wrote Jón Árnason over 60 letters, and collected a great deal of material for him): “It is strange how stories like the ghost and spirit accounts come into being; it’s like there is something that might exist in the spirit world. I think I have noticed that these spirit and ghost stories are mostly about people who have been evil or noteworthy in their lives, especially those that have died in a troubled state of mind, or in a nasty way (Úr fórum, I, 226–227: letter: 14/7/60).42

The Liminal Position of the Icelandic Clergy In short, in examining the attitudes of the Icelandic clergy to the collection of Icelandic folklore in the mid-nineteenth century, we are not dealing with one but a variety of opinions. All the same, there was clearly very little real antagonism to the beliefs involved (an idea also expressed by Pétur Péturs- Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 57

Skúli Gíslason (1825–1888, priest at Breiðabólsstaður (1859–1888). (Image of Skúli Gíslason from Úr fórum, I, 61.) son, 1990, 58, who states while many of the clergy influenced by the ideas of rationalism and the Enlightenment, there is no reason “to conclude that the majority of the clergy actively tried to abolish the folklore stories and the related popular literature”).43 The main question seems to have been one of literary value, and this material was far from as threatening to the establishment as other works that were beginning to appear around this time: Folk tales were not Nietzsche’s Zarathustra, Ibsen’s Ghosts, Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Grey, or Hardy’s Tess of the D’Urbervilles. This brings us back to the background of these clerics, and the way in which they interacted. As Pétur Pétursson in his doctoral thesis on Church and Social Change: A Study of the Secularization Process in Iceland 1830– 1930 (first published 1983) underlines (1990, 29–51 and 87–109), we need to remember that many of the Icelandic clergy had grown up in the rural community (even those c. 34% who were children of the clergy) where these stories were part of daily life. Very few of them had left the country to study theology, most having studied first at the Latin School and then the Theo- logical Seminary in Reykjavík (Pétur Pétursson 1990, 38). This, as in our own time in Iceland, made for some very close friendship networks, which existed alongside those which had actually been built up around family connections. As has been previously noted, these networks were made good use of with regard to the spread of foreign ideas from Copenhagen, not only by means of letters from old school friends, but also new books and journals such as the earlier-mentioned romantic journal Fjölnir and then the cultural news and views spread by Skírnir. It might be remembered that Iceland 58 Terry Gunnell lacked bookshops. In their place was a network of booksellers, of whom the clergy formed a large part.44 Of the c. 177 members of the Icelandic Lit- erature Society, which in 1853 included the two Grimm brothers and George Stephens, and had Jón Árnason and Magnús Grímsson as board members, were 59 clerics or prospective clerics (see: http://www.aviisitoq- qat.gl/view_page_init.jsp?pageId=1996879, last viewed 1st November 2012). These stood alongside merchants, parliamentarians, farmers, sheriffs, teachers, doctors, bookbinders, students and ship captains (see Skýrslur og reikníngar hins íslenska bókmentafélags 1852–1853). All of them received Skírnir, and bought or distributed many of the other works published by the society. Five years later, in 1858, at the time of the folk narrative collection, membership of the society (and readership of Skírnir) seems to have tripled: the 698 Icelandic members (people living in Iceland and Icelanders abroad) now include 142 priests (of the 174 clergymen Pétur Pétursson notes from 1860: Pétur Pétursson 1990, 41). Key outside figures have also increased: in addition to the Grimms and Konrad Maurer, we now find George Webb Dasent (translator of Asbjörnsen and Moe), the Norwe- gian historian P. A. Munch, and the Grundtvigs (see Skýrslur og reikníngar hins íslenska bókmentafélags 1857–1858). Members now also include a number of so-called reading societies, which would have brought the international ideas expressed in Skírnir to the attention of an even greater readership. Jón Sigurðsson, well aware of the long-term potential of the folktales on the basis of his own experience in Europe, was to make sure that every one of these members was to receive a free copy of Jón Árnason’s folk tale collection when it appeared in 1862–1864 (Sigurður Nordal 1971– 1972, II, lii–liii), something that of course helped encourage the Leipzig publishers J. C. Hinrichs, to risk taking on the work. All of these points underline that fact that as Pétur Pétursson has underlined (1990, 94), in addition to keeping up their day jobs as priests, the learned Icelandic clergy of the time were also a key conduit for the foreign nationalistic ideas of the time. It might thus be said that they existed in a kind of liminal state not only with regard to their position between religious and secular thought, but also with regard to the rural areas in which they were living and had been brought up, and the outside world of learning. It might be said that they had one foot firmly embedded in the home soil, and another dipping in the sea of international thought. This was a good background for folklore collection. Less directly connected to the Danish church than they were to Danish secular thought, the Icelandic clerics took little part in the revivalist movements of the time, many of them being more directly involved in politics in one form or another.45 As the letters quoted show, the stories that were being collected were part of their local cultural background. However, many of them were also becoming aware, through the work of people like the Fjölnir editors and other outsiders and semi-out- Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 59 siders like the Grimms, Maurer, George Stephens, and then other people like Finnur Magnússon, Konráð Gíslason, Guðbrandur Vigfússon and Jón Sigurðsson, that this material had another potentially international value as part of creating a new national cultural identity not only at home but also in the eyes of the outside world. When it comes down to it, it is little surprise that some of the Icelandic clergy should have been involved in the initial process of collecting folklore for posterity. It may have been rubbish, but it was rubbish with international potential.

Terry Gunnell, Professor in Folkloristics Faculty of Social Science Oddi University of Iceland IS-101 Reykjavik Iceland e-mail: [email protected]

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Safn til landfræðisögu Íslands: Sýslur- og Sóknalýsingar Hins Íslenska Bók- menntafélags 1839–1873: II: Skagafjarðarsýsla, ed. Pálmi Hannesson & Jakob Benediktsson. Akureyri: Bókaútgáfan Norðri, 1954. Sigurður Nordal, “Inngangur.” In Skúli Gíslason, Sagnakver Skúla Gíslasonar, ed. Sigurður Nordal. Reykjavík: Helgafell, 1947, v–xix. Sigurður Nordal, “Forspjall.” In Þjóðsagnabókin: Sýnisbók íslenzkra þjóðsagnasaf- na, I–II. Reykjavík: Almennabókafélag, 1971–1972, I, xiii–lvii; II, xv–xxxiii. Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 61 Skaftafellssýsla: Sýslur- og Sóknalýsingar Hins Íslenska Bókmenntafélags 1839– 1874, ed. Jón Aðalsteinn Jónsson & Svavar Sigmundsson. Reykjavík: Sögufélag 1997. Skúli Gíslason, Sagnakver Skúla Gíslasonar, ed. Sigurður Nordal. Reykjavík: Hel- gafell, 1947. Skýrslur og reikníngar hins íslenska bókmentafélags 1852–1853. In Skírnir, 1853. Skýrslur og reikníngar hins íslenska bókmentafélags 1857–1858. In Skírnir, 1858. Snæfellsnes III: Sýslur- og Sóknalýsingar Hins Íslenska Bókmenntafélags 1939– 1874, ed. Svavar Sigmundsson & Ólafur Halldórsson. Reykjavík: Snæfellingaút- gáfan, 1970. Sóknalýsingar Vestfjarða I: Barðastrandasýsla; II: Ísafjarðar- og Strandasýlsur. Reykjavík: Samband Vestfirzkra Átthagafélaga, 1952. Stephens, George, “Forslag Til Islændernes Uudgivne Folkesagns Og Sanges Op- tegnelse Og Bevaring.” Antiquarisk Tidsskrift (1843–1845), 191–192: See http: //runeberg.org/antiqdk/18431845/0206.html, last viewed 1st November, 2012. Úr fórum Jóns Árnasonar: Sendibréf I–II, ed. Finnur Sigmundsson. Reykjavík: Hlaðbúð, 1950–1951 Wawn, Andrew, The Vikings and the Victorians: Inventing the Old North in Nine- teenth-Century Britain. Cambridge: D. S. Brewer, 2000. Þingeyjarsýslur: Sýslur- og Sóknalýsingar Hins Íslenska Bókmenntafélags 1839– 1844, ed. Björn Hróarsson, Heimir Pálsson & Sigurveig Erlingssdóttir. Reykja- vík: Gott mál hf., 1994.

1 Qualiscunque descriptio Islandiae, an early description of Iceland probably written by Bishop Oddur Einarsson (Skálholt 1589–1630) during the same period that Shakespeare wrote Macbeth and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, talks of water monsters; mermaids, power poets; “elves” (álfar) living in hills, trolls, kidnapped children; sex between “elves” and humans; and the dangerous delusions of the Devil. In 1595, Bishop Guðbrandur Þorláksson had sea cows, hot springs, and a sea serpent included on his new map of Iceland. A year later, in 1596, Guð- brandur’s nephew, Arngrímur Jónsson (1568–1648), a scholarly priest who also worked at Hólar and Mælifell, wrote Rerum Danicarum Fragmenta, which provides us with other early accounts of “elves”, the changelings they leave in exchange for children, their fishing and their clothes-washing activities, as well as mention of sea creatures (“vettlingavinir”) and men who have children with elven women. In 1637, Bishop Gísli Oddsson based at Skálholt in the south of Iceland in 1632–1638 wrote De mirabilius Islandiae which talks of a variety of monsters, past and present, including trolls (now apparently extinct), and two types of elves (ljúflingar and huldufólk [bad]). His successor, Brynjólfur Sveinsson (bishop between 1639–1674) planned to go one step further and write a whole book on the “elves”. In 1660, Gísli Vigfússon, rector of Hólar, wrote about the existence of ghosts and spirits, and Jón Daðason, a cleric in Árnar- bæli, wrotes a work called Gandreið which talks of water horses, lake spirits, evil spirits, and poisonous fish. In 1666, Brynjulfur’s successor at Skálholt, Þórður Þorláksson (1674–1697) composed his own historical work called Dissertatio Chorographica-historica de Islandia, which once again mentions lake serpents, but disagrees with the foreign idea that the volcano Hekla was home to the spirits of the damned: see Sigurður Nordal 1971–1972, I, xxi–xxiii; and Einar Ólafur Sveinsson 2003, 82–116. 62 Terry Gunnell

2 See Jón Magnússon 2007. Around the same period, a scholar named Jón lærði Guðmundsson (1574–1658) who had composed magical poems, collected runes, and written about supernatural being had to flee the country to seek legal protection to avoid joining the dark list of the burnt. 3 “Þeir sem smíða sér tötrabúníng í gleðileikjum og gestaboðsveizlum, þeir eru réttir djöfulsins apar og athlægi, en andstygð einglunum, guði og góðum mönnum”: quoted in Ólafur Davíðs- son, Íslenzkar gátur, 1887–1903, III, 23. 4 Note the somewhat short Danish ban on theatrical activities instituted between 1738 and 1746. 5 Andreas Faye (1802–1869) was a priest; as were Jörgen Moe (1813–1882); H. F. Feilberg (1831–1921) and Nikolaj Frederik Severin Grundtvig (1783–1872). Svend Gruntvig (1824– 1883), the ballad collector, was thus the son of a priest, as were Evald Tang Kristensen (1843– 1929), Molke Moe (1859–1913) and Gunnar Olof Hyltén Cavallius (1818–1889). Pehr Magnus Arvid Säve (1811–1887) who collected folklore in Gotland was also the son of a theologian. George Stephens (1813–1895) had a fiery Lutheran protestant brother. 6 To give one example: Jón Árnason was son of the priest Árni Helgason (born in 1819). Árni had three wives. His second (Sesselja) had one son, Þórður Árnason, who later became a priest and had a son who himself became a prófastur, and a daughter who married a priest. Árni’s daughter with Sesselja married a hreppstjóri – and had the later priest Davíð Guðmundsson, father of the folklorist Ólafur Davíðsson. 7 Pétur Pétursson 1990: 49: “The clergy were still a considerable part of the intellectual stra- tum in Iceland during the latter half of the 19th century.” 8 Pétur Pétursson 1990: 94: “By way of their publications and private letters, the intelligensia in Copenhagen informed their former classmates and friends of trends in Europe and their ideas about the implications of these for the political situation in Iceland. All of these configurations help account for the role of the clergy in the distribution of the political ideas and programmes of the elite in Copenhagen.” 9 The survey was proposed by Jónas on 25th August 1838. It was eventually sent to all Ice- landic parish priests on 30th April 1839, and received 116 answers in the first two years. Other reminders followed until 1859, and a new appeal was made in 1870, which provided not only a few new parishes, but also a few updates: Múlasýslur 2000, VII–VIII. 10 These figures were behind the first four issues printed up to and including 1838. 11 “Áskorun til presta og biskups: spurningar um fornleifar og sagnir tengdar þeim: ‘sögusagnir meðal almugans um fornmen (aðrar enn þær sem til eru i rituðum sögum, merkileg pláts, fornan átrúnad edr hjátrú á ymsum hlutum, sérlega vidburdi o. s. frv. Einkum nær þær vidvíkia slíkum fornalldarleifum.’” 12 As noted in Gunnell 2010, it is noteworthy that those involved in the collection of Icelandic folklore (Finnur Magnússon, Konrad Maurer, and then Jón Árnason, Guðbrandur Vigfússon and Jón Sigurðsson), seem to have been essentially interested in the possibility of finding links to (remnants of) Old Icelandic poetry or sagas, and thus verses and legends rather than wonder tales. 13 “Alþiða vor, og eínkum eldra fólk – karlar og konur – kunna mart af þesskonar sögum, sem hætt er að hirða um, og almennt eru kallaðar: ligasögur, ‘bábiljur’ og kerlingabækur. Það er þó meíra satt í þeim enn menn higgja, og margar munu þær reínast merkjilega eður kátlega undir komnar og eptirtektaverðar; stundum hafa þær atvikast af einhvurju, sem hjer hefir við borið, stundum eru þær lángt að komnar, stundum algjörlega uppspunnar, og margopt feíkigamlar. Hið sama er að seígja um mörg fornkvæði, sem enn eru til um landið. Það væri betur, að prestar og aðrir fróðleiksmenn, sem hæast eíga aðstöðu, tækju sig til, og lægju út firir allt þessháttar, hvur í kríngum sig, ljeti skrifa það upp, og kjæmu því so á óhultan samastað, sosem t.a.m. í bó- kasafnið í Reíkjavík, so það glatist ekkji hjeðan af, sem enn er til.” 14 It might be noted that Stephens developed his international career by moving on to Copen- hagen in 1851. See further Wawn 2000, 215–244. Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 63

15 “Medens det Gamle Island i folkehistoriske Henseende staaer höiere end ethvert andet Land i og udenfor Europa, afgiver det nyere Island maaskee det eneste Exempel paa et europæisk Folk, bandt hvilket man endu ike saaledes har omhyggelig samlet Folkesagn, Sange, Kjæmpe- viser og Legender fra Almuens egen Mund. Om slige Levninger der ere tjenlige til at oplyse Nordens Mythologie og Historie, kun vil ikke sig; i alle Tilfælde synes de dog at maatte kunne afgive gode Bidrag til vor fuldstændigere Kundskab om populair Archæologie og Digting.” 16 Magnús seems to have collected material during a trip made around the country collecting geological specimens in 1848–1849. It is noteworthy that Konrad Maurer trusted him as a means of measuring the typical quality of the stories he himself had collected: see Maurer 1997, 382–383. Sigurður Nordal (1971–1972, I, xxviii–xxix) notes that material had also been collected by other priests: Friðrik Eggerz (1802–1894) collecting wonder tales in his twenties; and Lárus Sigurðarson (1808–1832) encouraging Ólafur Sveinsson á Purkey to record his “álfa- sögur” (“elf-tales”). 17 The Institutt for kulturstudier og orientalske språk at the University of Oslo contains letters from Maurer to Asbjørnsen dated: 6th May 1856, 25th May 1858, 20th May 1860, 9th August 1860, 18th May 1862, 25th February 1864, 23 February 1866, 8th August 1869, 8th April 1870, 12th August 1870, 5th January 1871, 2nd April 1871, 22nd October 1871, 28th October 1872, 27th November 1872, 6th January 1872, 10th July 1872, 26th November 1873, 30th November 1873, 27th December 1873, 25th May 1874, 30th September 1875, 2nd February 1877, 8th August 1878, 27th October 1878, 5th February 1880, and 30th December 1883. I am very grateful to Kyrre Kverndokk for arranging for copies of these letters to be sent to me. 18 See also Úr fórum, I, 83–84: letter from Jón Árnason to Maurer: 3/12/58; and Jón Árnason 1954–1961, VI, 62–63 (list of people Jón Árnason contacted between October and December 1858). 19 See also Úr fórum, I, 107–108: letter from Jón Árnason to Maurer: 5/4/59. 20 See Pétur Pétursson 1990, 31. Pétur suggests the rationalistic element was greater in Icelan- dic education than it was in the other Nordic countries. 21 Prestaskólinn (the Priests’ School) in Reykjavík had been established in 1847 after the old Latin school in Bessastaðir was replaced by the Latin School in Reykjavík in 1846, and might be seen as the first step towards an Icelandic university. The main aim was to educate prospective priests. The education, which lasted just two years, was intended for those who did not have the financial wherewithall to study theology at the University of Copenhagen. In 1911, it joined the school of medicine and school of law to become the University of Iceland. 22 See, for example, Múlasýslur 2000, 348 (1874: Hallormstaðir and Þingmúli), where the cleric, Sigurður Gunnarsson, writes, “Work is the main entertainment for most, because there are few lazy people here” (“Vinnan skemmtir flestum best því hér eru fáir letingjar”). For similar statements, see Eyjafjarðarsýsla 1972, 119; Safn til landfræðisögu Íslands, I, 1950, 69 and 111; and Skaftafellssýsla 1997, 153. 23 See Snæfellsnes, III, 1970, 111 (Hannes Jónsson, who also refers to Fjölnir and Skírnir). See also Múlasýslur 2000, 181 (Björn Vigfússon, Kirkjubæjarsókn: “Til skemmtunar á kvöld- vökum er víða haldið á rímnakveðskap og lestrum í fornsögum. Nokkrir sem betri föng og smekk hafa velja til lestrar það sem fremur horfir til siðbóta og fróðleiks” [“For entertainment at evening wakes, rímur poetry and the reading of the sagas is widely practised. Those with better materials and taste prefer to read more morally improving and educational texts”]), 212 (Snorri Sæmundsson: Desjamýrarsókn: “Of mikið af rímum og sögum” [“Far too many rímur poems and sagas”]); Sóknalýsingar Vestfjarða, II, 1952, 92 (Séra Jón Sigurðsson: Mýraþinga- prestakall: “sögur og marklitlar rímur” [“sagas and unimportant rímur”]), and for typical answers, see, for example, 46, 61,108, 129, and 154 (Séra Benedikt Þórðarson, Snæfjallastran- dar: Sögulestur á vetrum, samt samtöl, helzt um örlög og sjóferðir o. fl.” [“the reading of sagas in the winters, along with conversation, mostly about fate, sea voyages, and more”]). 24 The key example here is Jón Guðmundsson lærði (the learned: 1574–1658): see Einar Ólafur Sveinsson 2003:, 97–113. 64 Terry Gunnell

25 “Þó sumir prestar væru ekki lausir við hjátrú og hindurvitni eins og munnmælasögurnar sýna vildu flestir þeirra útrýma slíkum kenningum úr hjörtum tilheyrenda sinna sem þeim var alls ekki láandi. En svo mikið kvað að vandlætingum hinna ákafari presta í þessu að einstakir menn, sem gáfu sig við alþýðlegri fornfræði sem þá var kallaður galdur til að sverta bæði þá sjálfa og iðn þeirra í augum almennings, voru ofsóttir…” “Prestunum var hin mesta vorkunn og bein em- bættisskylda þeirra að útrýma hindurvitnun og hjátrú úr söfnuðum sínum, en með hjátrúnni misstist meira; því þegar búið var að koma inn fyrirlitningu á munnmælum og alþýðlegri forn- fræði hjá almenningi var það bein afleiðing að það legðist af að ‘segja sögur’. Enda er svo ko- mið að örfáir kunna nú orðið að segja sögulega og áheyrilega frá slíkum viðurðum þó sögurnar sjálfar loði enn eftir.” 26 “Bezüglich anderer, z. B. der Gespenster- oder Zaubersagen, herrscht zwar, wider wie bei uns, bei beschränkteren oder minder gebildeten Leuten wenigstens noch einiger Glauben; aber die Gläubigen selber schämen sich ihres Glaubens, und mögen diesen kaum sich selbst, gesch- weige denn Anderen eingestehen. Viele wissen hiernach bereits Nichts mehr von den alten Überlieferungen; Mehrere noch verachten diese als Aberglauben und Altweibergeschwätz, und fürchten sich und ihr Volk lächerlich zu machen, wenn sie dem Fremden von solchen erzählen; mancher, zumal ältere, Pfarrer verfolgt die-selben auch wohl noch mit gründlichem Hasse, und fürchtet wenn nicht für das Seelenheil, so doch für den christlichen Ruf seiner Gemeinde, sowie ihm das Bestrehen solche zu sammeln in den Weg tritt.” See also Sigurður Nordal 1947, V: “Á söfnun og útgáfu Þjóðsagnanna var upphaflega litið með ærið misjafnri velþóknun af ýmsum mönnum, sem menntaðir voru í anda ‘upplýsingarinnar’, og margir alþýðumenn voru tregir að láta hafa eftir sér hjátrúarsögur og hindurvitni. Því vænna mátti Jóni þykja um, hversu alþjóð tók safni hans tveim höndum, er það kom út.” (“At the start, people had varying opinions about the collection and publication of the folk tales, especially those what had been brought up in the spirit of the Enlightenment, and those of the lower classes who were wary about being connected to superstitious tales and popular beliefs. Jón thus had good reason to be excited about how positively the general public too his collection when it eventually appeared.”) These ideas are reflected in Maurer’s travel account, where he tells of how one cleric, Guðmundur Jónsson was “shy about telling me stories of this kind, full of superstition”, but nonetheless ended up passing on at least six accounts about sea creatures and “elven” illusions: see Maurer 1997, 96. 27 “Sumum finnst ‘að þjóðsögurnar væri sú argasta vitleysa, hjátrú og hindurvitni, sem væri bæði félaginu og Íslendingum til elífrar skammar’” (Úr fórum, II, 174). 28 “Hvað efnið snertir, þá er það mjög ýmislegt og auðugt, og sýnir það opt, á hvaða þek- kingarstigi þjóðin hefur staðið; hvað villa og hjátrú – sem nú er kallað – hefur verið ríkt hjá þjóðinni. Í þessu tilliti eru því ævintýrin harla markverð fyrir menntunarsögu þjóðar vorrar. Þau eru eins konar seinni tíma edda hennar, eða goðafræði, sem tíminn hefur lagað og breytt” (Jón Árnason and Magnús Grímsson, 1852: 3). A similar attempt to encourage people to see beyond the prejudices of the Enlightenment can be seen in Jón Sigurðsson’s statement in his review of Maurer’s collection of 1860: Jón writes: “Það er eitt af þeim einkennum, sem fylgdi skynse- mistrúar öldinni, að kasta frá sér öllu, sem var byggt á trú, en ekki reynslu; menn þóttust ekki vilja trúa því, sem menn ekki skildi, en ef satt skal segja þá skildu þeir harla lítið, sem von var, þeir vissu ekki enn, heldur þá Nikodemus, hvaðan vindurinn kom eða hvert hann fór. Til hvers á að láta sér svo drembilega, eins og maður þykist vita alt og skilja alt og ekki vilja heyra anað nefnt? Látum vera, að mörg trú sé hjátrú og hindurvitni; vér getum ekki að því gert, að oss finnst þessi trú vera samfara einhverju andlegu fjöri og skáldlegri tilfinningu, sem ekki finnst hjá þeim, er þykjst svo upplýstir að trúa engu. Látum vera, að það sé hjátrú að trúa á álfa; oss finnst það vera skemmtilegt að heyra um alt það líf, sem er í hólum og steinum og klettum, þeim sem nokkur kveður að… .” (“One of those features which accompanied the Age of Sensibility was that of rejecting anything that was based on belief rather than experience; people acted like they did not want to believe anything they did not understand, but in truth, as one can expect, they understood very little; they still knew no better than Nicodemus where the wind came from or where it went. Why act to pompously, as if you know and understand everything and do not Clerics as Collectors of Folklore in Nineteenth-Century Iceland 65 want to hear anything else mentioned? So what, if many beliefs are superstitions; we can do nothing about the fact that we feel these beliefs seem to be accompanied by a kind of spiritual life and poetic feeling, which is not found among those who act to enlightened that they believe nothing. So what if believing in “elves”is mere superstition; we like hearing good stories about the life in the hills and rocks and cliffs ... .”). See Jón Sigurðsson, 1860, for the whole review. 29 “… eins og Dr. Maurer var þegar búinn að reyna, að alþýða, og það hinir greindustu, þora eigi að segja traditionis, sem lygilegar eru, því alþýða er hætt að þekkja sannan skáldskap. Af þessu fást ekki sögurnar, þó einhver kunni þær, nema máske hjá bjánum, sem þá kunna ekki að segja þær.” 30 “… eg næ ekki i beztu fontes: hjá því rétta hjátrúarfólki, því það skilur ei tilganginn og álitur það að kasta helgidóminum fyrir hunda að láta vantrúaða vera að skrifa slíkt upp, en vantrúaðir segja manni mest og bezt sögurnar, og þó þeim segist vel, þá hverfur þetta naivitet, sem prýðir svo mjög slíkar sögur og sem varla er mögulegt að stæla eftir, svo allt í þessari barnlegu og ljósu hreinskilni verði aptum… .” 31 Jón Þórðarson: letter: 4/1/59: “Bændur eru svo latir og seinir að skrifa, að það dugir ekki að biðja þá; eg hefi farið á fjörurnar við tvo, sem hafa heima hjá sér gamlar og fróðar kerlingar, en ekkert fæ eg frá þeim[…] Fólk lætur það ekki uppi við mann þó maður komi sem snöggvast og sé að spyr- ja það, og þó það viti eitthvað, finnst því það vera svo auðvirðilegt, að það vill ekki segja frá því … .” (“Some farmers are so lazy and slow at writing that there is no point in asking them; I’ve walked the beaches with two people who have old, wise women living at home with them but can’t get anything out of them [...]. People tell you nothing even when you take them by surprise, and even if they know something, they feel it so embarrassing that they won’t tell about it.…”). 32 Sigurður Gunnarsson: letter: 10/1/59: “Eg er annars verri en sumir aðrir til að safna hjatrúnní, því menn forðast að láta mig heyra hana, og sjálfur hefi eg gleymt flestu þess háttar. Hér er einn fræðimaður, sem væri fús til að safna, en mér er nauðugt að níðast á honum, nema eg gæti borgað honum vel… .” (“I am worse than many others at collecting superstitions because people avoid letting me hear anything of that kind, and I’ve myself forgotten most such things. There is one scholar here who would be willing to collect, but I’d rather not get him to give up his time unless I can pay him well.”) See also letter: 16/12/60: “Fyrir skömmu datt mér í hug stúlka, og það í minni sveit, afbragðs fróð og skynsöm og minnug; hana skal eg nú biðja, því eg veit nú, að hún kann óvenju af kerlingasögum, hjátrú og þulum. Kerling er á sókn minni, nærri níræð, sem trúir svo á álfa, að hún sér þá oft og segir um hætti þeirra, – hún sér fylgjur allar og vofur, en vill ekki segja mér neitt.” (“A short while ago, a girl who lives in my area came to my mind, she’s very knowledgeable, sensible and has a good memory; I’ll ask her, because I know now that she knows an unusual large amount of old wives’ tales and rhymes. There is an old women in my parish, nearly ninety, who believes so much in “elves” that she often sees them and tells about their ways, – she sees all kinds of ghosts and spirits, but won’t tell me anything.”) 33 “Nú á dögum er sagt miklu minna af munnmælasögum en í ungdæmi mínu, og álit eg þá or- sök til þess, að hjátrúin hefir rénað að því skapi sem upplýsingin hefir vaxið. Svo hafa sögurnar smám saman liðið mönnum úr minni, þegar svo var komið, að fleiri en færri höfðu ógeð á að heyra þær sagðar.” 34 Skúli Gíslason, letter: 8/4/62 (Úr fórum, I, 371). See also Jón Þorleifsson, letter: 10/10/58 (Úr fórum, I, 74–75): 35 “Það spillir annars fyrir þeim, sem vilja safna þess konar fróðleik, hvað þeir, sem þykjast vera menntaðir, hafa haft hann i skopi[…]. Ekki gjörir Síra J. Briem mikið úr sögusafninu um Eyvind útilegumann, er hann hefir… en smekk sumra lærðra manna í þessu er líka stundum varlega trúandi” (Úr fórum, I, 103 and 105). 36 See also a letter from Guðmundur Einarsson in Úr fórum, II, 55, about ghost stories as being nothing but “hégiljur” (“superstition”) (dated 24/7/64). 37 “Ég verð því miður að litlu liði í þessu efni og ber margt til þess. Fyrst og fremst vantar mig auga sjáandans til að glöggva mig á, að þess konar efni séu eins dyrmæt eins og fornfræðavi- 66 Terry Gunnell nirnir vilja prédika mér. Fyrir mitt leyti þykir mér gaman að gömlum hindurvitnum, ljóðum og ævintýrum, en þó þýtur það eins og vindur um eyrun, og eg er á eftir eins og heimskinginn, eins og ‘dárinn sem dreymir að hann fái saðling, en vaknar upp með hungruðum maga’ […]. Kerling ein er hjá mér, margkunnandi, en flest, sem hún kann, er alkunnugt og með nýjabragði, og þar að auki er hún viðsjál og skreytin í öllum framburði sínum og vís til að fylla eyður með sínum eigin tilbúningi […]. Helzt ættirðu að geta fengið hjá mér ýmsar setningar og ummæli hjátrúar, því á hverjum degi heyri eg að kalla nýja hjátrú….” 38 It might be stressed that in a later latter after the collection had appeared (Úr forum, II, 22: 12/ 2/ 63), Séra Björn says that he enjoyed reading the material, and did not wish to be seen as one of those clerics that saw it as being “beneath them” (“under sin Værdighed”) to collect such material, even though he couldn’t be bothered (“ekki hafi eg nennt að gjöra það”). 39 “Þegar ég var í Þingeyjarsýslu, heyrði eg oft minnzt á tvo drauga: Húsavíkur-Lalla og Þor- geirsbola, en mér hugkvæmdist þá ekki að skipta mér neitt af slíkum sögum[…]. Við allar þes- sar sögur þóttust jafnvel sumir enn vera varir nú fyrir 30 árum; en eg hló að slíku og skeytti því ekki framar í þá daga […]. – Ég held það hefði þótt spádómur um næstliðin aldamót, að vísin- damenn færu á miðri 19. öld að safna saman álfa og draugasögum, en tempora mutantur.” 40 “Nóg var hjátrú og hérvilla hér í landi enn á voru upplýstu öld, þó ekki sé á henni alið), en nú skal ég spá, þó spádómurinn sé slotað, að henni fer ekki aftur, ef almenningur les yðar bók, því ekki þarf annað en prenta, því trúa allir, og ekki þarf annað en segja fólki, sem efast um einhver sannindi, en segja því: það er prentað. Þess háttar safn sem yðar hefði átt að gefa út á latínumáli, sem almenningur les ekki. Það er rétt gott fyrir þá lærðu, sem þurfa að hafa eitthvað til að leika sér við, af því þeir hvorki kunna að róa eða slá. Mér finnst, að með þessu safni yðar komi út ritgjörð um það, hvernig allt þetta á að skilja.” Similar wariness is expressed by another farmer who did not send some accounts about ghosts because he was wary about them appearing in print and being believed: “Eg vildi ekki senda þá sögu, enda þó eg gæti fengið hana, af því ekki er trútt um menn festi enn trúnað á, að þetta hafi verið eitthvað óeðlilegt, og því verður jafnvel ekki neitað, að maður getur enga skynsamlega ályktun gjört um það, hvernig við- burðurinn hefur átt að geta skeð með náttúrulegum hætti” (Úr forum, II, 20–21: 8/2/63: “I did not want to send that story, even though I could get it, because it is not unlikely that people will still believe that it is something unnatural, and, of course, it cannot be denied that one can reach no sensible conclusion about how this event can have a natural explanation”). 41 “(Þetta er nú eitthvað physcologiskt). Ekki skil eg það. Já, hvað skil eg? Ekki Hegel, ekki Murinekke, ekki Marteinsen, og ekki Prestaskóla vors ritgjörð um altaris sakram. Þennan blessaða ritus kristinna manna […]. Æ, eg vildi að þér hefðuð meira safn að viðlíka noticer og þessu, en minna af afturgöngum og uppvakningum og snökkum í yðar merkilega safni.” 42 “Það er annars undarlegt, hvernig þessar sögur myndast, og eins vofu- eða svipa-sögurnar; það er eins og til einhvers sem að líkindum kann að eiga sér stað í andríkinu. Eftir því þykist eg taka, að þessar svipa- eða vofusögur eru helzt eftir þá, sem hafa verið illir eða mikilfenglegir í lífinu, einkum hafi þeir dáið í misjöfnu skapi eða voveiflega.” 43 As others have noted, it is worth remembering that it was a cleric, Matthías Jochumsson (later to become a playwright and national poet), who provided Jón Árnason with the legend of “Sálin hans Jóns míns” (“The Soul of My Jón”) in which an Icelandic woman gets her sinful husband into Heaven after making fun of St Peter, St Paul and the Virgin Mary’s morals (having a child with someone other than her husband): see Jón Árnason 1954–1961, II, 42–43. 44 Pétur Pétursson 1990, 93: On Fjölnir and Ármann á Alþingi: “Clergymen comprised nearly half of the agents in 1844 and 1846, and two thirds in 1856”; see also 91 on clergymen selling books; and Loftur Guttormsson 2003, 49. 45 See Pétur Pétursson 1990: 201 and 96: “The Icelandic revival was dominated by nationalistic and political overtones whereas the dominant theme in the other Nordic countries was centred around religious and theological issues”. See also Maurer 1997, 304 (on Séra Geir Bachmann); 178 (on Séra Jakob Guðmundsson); and 141 (on Séra Sveinbjörn Hallgrímsson, who had been editor of the paper, Þjóðólfur). The Folk in the Church 67 The Folk in the Church Magnus Brostrup Landstad (1812–1880) as a Clerical Folklore Collector

Arne Bugge Amundsen

In Norway the priests and theologians of the Lutheran state church played a central role in the work of developing a national culture in the nineteenth century. For much of the century, theology was the most important academic study qualifying people for public office in the young state. In a country with a historically weak urban culture and with a majority of the population consisting of peasants, the church officials were crucial for the state administration. Studying theology was an important career path for an individual, and for many men it was a “bread-and-butter study”. At the same time, academic theology gave them an important framework for understanding and interpreting reality and their own role in the church and the local community. Norway did not acquire a university of its own until 1811, and it took on a central function in the time after 1814, when Norway became an autonomous state in union with Sweden. Under the influence of confessional Lutheran ideas and romantic currents, Norwegian theology began to speak of “the Norwegian church” as something independent from the state, as a separate corporation with its own development and its own distinctive historical and cultural features. This made it natural for individual theologians and priests to take an interest in the increasingly important idea of nationality, which became a natural starting point for the work of determining what Norway was. From the middle of the nineteenth century the relatively conflict-free relationship between theology, the church, and the clergy was seriously challenged when a radical pietistic ideology began to dominate the Faculty of Theology. A central figure in this development was Professor Gisle Johnson (1822–1894), who was not concerned with culture or the nation, but with “revival” (vekkelsen). Revival had no room for any understanding of Christianity as historically and culturally given in the state and the nation; the only thing of value was individual religiosity and the community of the converted. 68 Arne Bugge Amundsen In this complex picture of nineteenth-century Norway it is nevertheless interesting to note that the work of collecting, interpreting, and communi- cating folklore or knowledge about the cultural heritage of the Norwegian people was highly significant for a number of theologians and priests. There were not many of them, but their efforts were fundamental and dominant. The aim of this article is to examine some of the motives, interpretations, and perspectives of these actors from the point of view of the church and theology. The focus is on the theologian, priest, folklore collector, and hymn writer Magnus Brostrup Landstad (1802–1880). I shall try to analyse him not only as a folklore collector, but also as a cultural actor in an important phase of Norwegian cultural history. Analysing the nineteenth-century Norwegian clergy is of course nothing new in research in the fields of history and church history. Several scholars have tried, for example, to describe the generation of priests who were influenced by Gisle Johnson’s pietistic teaching and preaching from

Magnus Brostrup Landstad (1802–1880) portrayed in the 1860s, probably with a copy of his Hymnal for the Norwegian Church in his hand. The Folk in the Church 69 the 1840s onwards (Elstad 2002), while others have studied the late nineteenth-century clergy in their encounter with the “modern breakthrough” (Haanes 1998). There are also studies of the shifts between different types and generations of priests through the nineteenth century (Amundsen 1992), as well as detailed social and demographic studies of the background and references of these generations of priests (Mannsåker 1954). One generation that perhaps has seen less systematic analysis, however, is the “pre-Johnson” priests who were educated at the newly established (1811) Faculty of Theology in the days before Gisle Johnson. What one tends to find about them in the literature is that they were influenced by neo-orthodox Lutheran theology, with a strong orientation towards the distinctive confessional character of the church, with powerful bonds between the preaching rector and his congregation, and with little understanding for the emerging liberal state and the aggressive lay religiosity of the pietists. An important exception should be mentioned here: Ørnulf Hodne’s biography of Jørgen Moe (1813–1882) (Hodne 1982). Jørgen Moe is a figure that most people associate with Norwegian folklore in the nineteenth century. As a theologian and cleric he belonged to the same generation as Magnus Brostrup Landstad.

A Shared Clerical Interest in Folk Culture? The importance of describing what may be called the Landstad generation of Norwegian clerics is evident from an ongoing European research project based at the Vrije Universiteit in Amsterdam. The project is entitled SPIN – Study Platform on Interlocking Nationalisms, and its aim is a comparative survey of European national romanticism in the nineteenth century (http: //www.spinnet.eu/). As a contribution to this survey, in the summer of 2010 the project arranged a conference entitled European Clerics and Vernacular Culture in the Long Nineteenth Century. As a way to broach this theme, the conference used an idea by the Hungarian folklorist Vilmos Voigt, who raised the question whether there was a distinct European “ecclesiastical code” in relation to nineteenth-century folk culture. Voigt himself answered the question in the negative (Voigt 2010–2011). Other delegates at the conference showed less agreement in their answers. It is not difficult to demonstrate that priests and theologians, not only in Norway but all over Europe, took part in the collection and study of folk culture in the nineteenth century. Many of them knew of each other, cor- responded, read the same literature, and had links to academic networks, particularly the networks built up by the brothers Jacob (1785–1863) and Wilhelm (1786–1859) Grimm. On the other hand, it is more complicated to determine whether the interest in folk culture was due to the fact that they represented a particular theology or if they were more generally rep- 70 Arne Bugge Amundsen

Jacob (1785–1863) and Wilhelm (1786–1859) Grimm were German academics, linguists, cultural researchers, and folklore collectors. Their works played a major role in the Ro- mantic movement in 19th century Europe. resentatives of a group of men with a cultural and academic interest, ambitious officials with the resources and time to collect and write. It was, after all, just a small minority of European priests who were interested in folk culture. I believe that this problem can be solved relatively easily. Although not all nineteenth-century priests were concerned with folk culture, the theology was significant for the way they identified and used folk culture. It is fundamental to all Christian theology to find answers to how the church can affect and interpret the present in social and cultural terms, and how negative tendencies can be counteracted or compensated for. From a general perspective it makes sense to claim that theology in the nineteenth century either meant preserving the status quo in order to prevent modern disbelief and liberalism – with its neutrality or even hostility to religion – from gaining a foothold, or else changing the status quo to revitalize religious life “from within”. And some theologians found it important to identify a folk (religious) culture in order to achieve this theological goal. The Folk in the Church 71 Catholics and Protestants in the Encounter with Folk Culture At the same time, there have been clear differences between the Christian confessions on this point. These differences obviously had their roots in different theological assessments of folk traditions of piety. In Roman Catholic countries the nineteenth century was a time of systematic opposition to all modern disbelief. This was especially clear under Pope Pius IX (1792–1878, pope from 1846), when an important church strategy was to mobilize believers to defend the Catholic church against modern nationalism, democracy, and freethinking. The aim was to get members of the church, under the leadership of the clergy, to support the church’s established organization, doctrine, and tradition. By referring to the believers’ concerted testimony about old and new saints, religious revelations, the veneration of the Virgin Mary and the belief in her immaculate conception, folk religious culture could counteract negative development and critique of the church. To achieve this, it was necessary to collect “testimony” about religious faith

Pius IX (1792–1878), count Mastai-Ferretti, was Roman Catholic Pope from 1846. He was the last sovereign head of the Papal State, and made the fight against all “Modernism” his most important strategy during his 32 years on the Papal Throne. 72 Arne Bugge Amundsen and experience, a “popular piety” which would show that this unanimous testimony had broad support. The folk culture that many Catholic clerics wished to collect and describe was thus important for the church’s struggle against modern society (Eriksen & Stensvold 2002). In Protestant countries the theological project was similar in many ways to the Roman Catholic one – to ensure backing for religion and the church under pressure from modern disbelief – but the strategies were evidently more ambiguous and varied in relation to folk culture. Ecclesiastical and theological pietism, with roots going back to the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, emphasized that the truth of the religion should not be confused with its external forms or with the tradition of piety. The pietists claimed that the inner meaning and experience were the “true face” of religion. In this form, pietism was a cultural and social elite movement that perceived “the peasantry” as a problem and “peasant culture” as something that had to be changed and cleansed of misunderstandings and anything that obstructed true Christian experience and insight. This outlook is clearly articulated in a central figure like Erik Pontoppidan (1698–1764). He thought it important to collect and survey religious folk culture, but this was in order to eradicate superstition and all the pagan and Catholic customs and ideas enshrined in this culture (Amundsen 1999:14ff). A similar view was representative of the theological and ecclesiastical enlightenment project from the late eighteenth century, a project which emphasized that the true, simple religion was in harmony with enlightened reason. In this context too, the “folk” and their culture were interesting, but still as a problem. Spokesmen of enlightenment wanted to eradicate superstition, enlisting the assistance of schooling, theological authority, and human persuasion to achieve the goal of changing folk culture (ibid.:25ff). Following in the same tracks was the folk pietism that can be found in the early pietistic revival movement founded by the Norwegian farmer’s son Hans Nielsen Hauge (1771–1824) at the start of the nineteenth century (Amundsen 2007). With this movement, the critique of folk culture by pietism and enlightenment hit at the heart of peasant culture. The Haugeans were extremely sceptical of traditional folk culture, and many of them were also negatively disposed to the idea of collecting and preserving this culture. As a whole, then, it is correct to say that in many important religious and cultural currents in the Protestant world before and during the nineteenth century, “folk” or “peasant culture” was not viewed favourably; it was rather a problem and a challenge.

The Romantic Movement This is one picture of the nineteenth-century perception of culture and piety among the common people, a perception that probably had many spokes- The Folk in the Church 73 men among the Norwegian clergy as well. The other picture is linked to the fact that the nineteenth century was an arena for a new way of interpreting and understanding “folk culture”. “The folk”, especially in Protestant Eu- rope, became a large, important, and positive concept, particularly in the romantic movement. This ideological movement came into existence in a Eu- rope that was on the brink of what many people saw as a collapse of the status quo. The French Revolution made it clear that the old, religiously based society with clear boundaries between the estates of the realm was no longer the only way to organize human society. Increased criticism of traditional interpretations of the Bible led many people to question the value of history: perhaps the biblical stories were not true in a modern sense, and perhaps human history was not a coherent narrative about good and evil people, but instead a narrative of constant change and movement away from the ideals of the past. Some people went even further and criticized traditional religion as such. The old authorities were challenged, the church and the clergy were openly criticized, church attendance fell, the modern protest movement grew in scale and support, and new heretical interpretations of religion made themselves felt. And in the midst of all this, the old order of European states also collapsed during and after the Napoleonic Wars in the first decades of the nineteenth century. In Norway most people were perhaps on the margin of this European development, but they were collectively overtaken by it in 1814. The old union with Denmark was forcibly broken, absolutism disappeared, and Norway acquired a constitution based on the modern idea that its inhabitants were not the obedient subjects of a prince but a population of acting and choosing subjects. But if this was the new reality and a new community was to be built up and given symbolic form, what was it that tied this community together? For many people the answer was “the nation”, a community based on a unifying history, a common language, and a shared and distinctive culture. And important sources and inspiration for describing this community could be found in “the folk”. It was problems of this kind that that dominated the romantic movement, which can be understood as a broad consolidation movement in the encounter with major historical, cultural, and political changes in Europe. An important figure in this movement was the German theologian and philosopher Johann Gottfried von Herder (1744–1803). He emphasized that, as creatures made by God, people developed their humanity in any circumstances, but these circumstances changed depending on the time and place. The reason for differences in human expression, according to Herder, was that history developed organically on given premises. The fact that cultures were different and subject to change and development also united them from a higher, divine perspective. Cultural differences could be detected in aes- 74 Arne Bugge Amundsen

Johann Gottfried von Herder (1744–1803) was a German philosopher, theologian, poet, and literary critic. From 1776 he was General Superintendant in Weimar. thetic, historical, and linguistic respects. This meant that acquiring knowledge about how “the folk” behaved, spoke, invented and told stories was important for grasping significant cultural differences and characteristics. To help in acquiring this knowledge, Herder himself was one of the early collectors and publishers of German Volksdichtung. For him this “folk poetry” was an important element in building up an understanding of what was distinctive in German culture and a German Volk, entities that were greater than the borders drawn by a complicated political landscape. In principle, according to Herder, it was the German language that constituted these entities. Herder and his successors were also concerned with how cultural similarity and dissimilarity could be communicated and made accessible to thinking and acting people. A romantic thinker who articulated a clear stance on this was the German Friedrich Schelling (1775–1854), who believed that the organic totality of nature, culture, and history contained three elements or “steps” by which people could relate to their reality: cognition, action, and art. What could be observed, understood, and experienced constituted a greater whole. Watching one’s immediate natural surroundings, understanding connections in the history and culture of the place, and learning it all through emotions was an educational process in which everyone should endeavour to take part. To assist in this process there were artists, philosophers, and aesthetes whose insight enabled them to communicate the cultural totality in the form of poetry, literature, and figurative art (Amundsen 2002:51ff). “The folk” that the romantics saw before them were far removed from the The Folk in the Church 75 actual local culture or local democracy of the peasantry. “The folk” was an ideal entity, a concept created by the elite which was intended to open for an understanding of history, society, the community, the symbols, and religion in a concrete physical area.

Norwegian Solutions There was scarcely anyone who fully identified with Herder’s or Schelling’s ideas, but they did serve as important premises for the way in which many more people thought in concrete terms about society and cultural community in the first half of the nineteenth century. It was important to trace historical lines backwards in time, to identify a distinctive language, to find “the folk” and its aesthetics and symbols, to understand what distinguished an organically developed national culture. An important question is how such perspectives were captured in church matters in Norway and how they affected the nineteenth-century Norwegian clergy. It has been argued that there were hardly any representatives of Eu- ropean romanticism in our country, and that the clergy in particular were more influenced by the thinking and strategies of the Enlightenment. This is a one-sided view, yet it highlights something important: that many of those who developed national cultural perspectives in Norway actually were theologians and priests who had a responsibility as state officials for poor relief, school education, the electoral system, public rituals, and moral control. They could not devote themselves unreservedly to aesthetics, poetry, or art, but primarily had to discharge their duties, with roots not just in the En- lightenment but also in the absolutist state that was abolished in 1814. This did not, however, prevent them from adopting modern romantic perspectives in some of their activities and as motivation for the way in which they fulfilled their official duties. This ambivalence is important to bear in mind if one wants to understand the Norwegian clergy in the first half of the nineteenth century. The events in 1814 represented an unusual mixture of old and new for the clergy. The absolute monarch was no longer the sovereign head of the church, the Danish Chancery disappeared as the administrative authority, the Faculty of Theology in Copenhagen was no longer the traditional seat of learning, and instead an elected king became the head of the church, a Nor- wegian Ecclesiastical Department headed by a member of the government became the senior political and administrative body, and the newly established university in Christiania was given a theological faculty that was small and not exactly weighed down by learning. At the same time, the most important basis of ecclesiastical law and the ritual framework for the clergy was retained, namely, the monumental Norwegian Law from 1687 and the Church Ritual from 1685, from the days of Danish-Norwegian absolutism. 76 Arne Bugge Amundsen It was not so easy to decide what was distinctively Norwegian and national as regards the church and the clergy on these premises. Under the influence of the first professors of theology at the faculty in the capital, there were many who placed greater emphasis on the Lutheran confession as the national foundation of the church and theology: Norway was a Lutheran country, and its ecclesiastical history bore the stamp of this. Under pressure from liberal resolutions in parliament in the 1830s and 1840s which ended in fairly radical rules about freedom of religion, comprising both a self-assured pietistic lay movement and new denominations (Amundsen 2010), the confessional line was strengthened in a national direction, and people began to speak of “the Norwegian church”. This church and its history were interpreted in the spirit of romanticism as a church that had grown up organically in Norway and belonged to the Norwegian people both culturally and insti- tutionally – as opposed to all the “foreign” church denominations that could not claim any such national status. Some clergymen went even further in a national and popular direction under the influence of the Danish theologian Nikolai Frederik Severin Grundt- vig (1783–1872). This applied especially to a very influential minister in Christiania, Wilhelm Andreas Wexels (1797–1866). Some also cast their eyes – undoubtedly inspired by romanticism – on peasant culture and its potential to give deeper insight into the distinctive character of Norwegian history, culture, and religion. It is in this complex landscape that we must place Magnus Brostrup Landstad.

Some Clerical Types Before we look more closely at Landstad, there is good reason to give a brief sketch of some other contemporary clergymen who also displayed an interest in folk culture: Andreas Faye, Jørgen Moe, and Eilert Sundt. Andreas Faye (1802–1869) was the same age as Landstad and the earliest of them all – a fact that would also affect his fate. After a long educational journey, where he made the acquaintance of crucial people and places in the Danish and German romantic movement, and with the nationally conscious industrialist, politician, and historian Jacob Aall (1773–1844) as his mentor and patron, he started a collection of “Norwegian legends” early in the 1830s. In 1833 he published the book Norske Sagn, which was first ac- claimed but then quickly criticized and marginalized by the new national in- telligentsia with their base in Christiania. Faye had intended his collection of legends as a contribution to a national educational process in schools, among people interested in history, and among the reading public. Instead he was criticized for being “un-national” – in language, presentation, and aesthetics – and “unscientific” in his comments on the legends. All the criticism obscured Faye’s own perspective on his project, namely, The Folk in the Church 77

Andreas Faye (1802– 1869) was a theologian famous for his historical and paedagogical writings. In 1833 he edited the first collection of Norwegian legends. that the folk legends could be interesting sources for national history, that they allowed a national Norwegian voice to be heard in a larger European cultural community, and that by retelling the stories as he had done, he actually helped to bring this crude, unworked material into an aesthetic and educated framework that made it nationally comprehensible. It was the national “folk culture” that he had identified. Detecting anything of “the folk” in the church or making room for it in ecclesiastical culture is not a topic that Faye discusses. He is mainly concerned with creating a new understanding of national history. As regards the religious dimensions in the legends, Faye was in fact rather reserved, influenced by the Enlightenment with its theological critique of “superstition” among the peasantry (Amundsen 1999: 31ff; Amundsen 2002). The slightly younger Jørgen Moe (1813–1882) was an important force in Faye’s destiny. Moe was a farmer’s son with ambitions to become a national poet, and he realized that Faye’s project would get in the way of his own career plans, which included becoming the leading literary and poetic inter- preter of folk-culture material. Despite the crude methods that Jørgen Moe employed to neutralize his rival, he had an obvious literary talent far sur- passing Faye’s, and until the middle of the 1850s Moe managed to produce important interpretations and refined versions, especially of legends and fairytales that he had collected along with Peter Christen Asbjørnsen 78 Arne Bugge Amundsen

Jørgen Moe (1813–1882) was a theologian and folklorist, best known for his collection of Norwe- gian folk tales which he edited in collaboration with Peter Christen Asbjørnsen (1812–1885). In 1853 he became a parish priest, and from 1875 he was Bishop of the Diocese of Christiansand.

(1812–1885) and others. But while Faye evidently did not see any conflicts between his interest in folk culture and national history and his clerical career, with Jørgen Moe it was different. On the premises of romanticism, Jørgen Moe perceived a kind of “creative longing” in folk culture and its forms of expression. The classical passage here is Romans 8:22: “For we know that the whole creation groaneth and travaileth in pain together until now.” From this point of view it is possible to see a theological value even in legends and fairytales. The value was close to Herder’s idea that humanity as made by God was expressed in organically created culture and history. On this foundation Jørgen Moe was also able to establish himself as a poetic and aesthetic in- terpreter and mediator of folk culture. By refining raw material collected among simple people he was able to help this “creative longing” to come closer to its goal. When he underwent a profound religious conversion in the 1850s and decided to enter the clergy, however, Jørgen Moe made a sharp break with his former commitment to folk culture. As a priest Jørgen Moe became a conservative, Lutheran-confessional official. The clerical calling had to go fur- The Folk in the Church 79

Eilert Sundt (1817–1875) was known for his work on mortality, marriage and other subjects among the working class. He did his investigations with grants from the Nor- wegian Parliament. ther than just refining the “creative longing”; it was the gospel of Christ and conversion that would sound from the pulpit. A third clerical profile with an interest in folk culture was Eilert Sundt (1817–1875). For him it was not the poetry or the aesthetic presentation that was crucial, but a scholarly interest in the living circumstances of the peasantry, their poverty and social conditions. Sundt became one of the central spokesmen of the value of systematic public enlightenment in Norway in the nineteenth century, and he was among the founders of the Society for the Promotion of General Education, the Christiania Workers’ Society, and the journal Folkevennen. In Folkevennen around 1860 he published a number of articles about “superstition” among the peasantry, where he argued that it was important to collect and interpret material about the way the common people thought. Sundt envisaged that it would be possible to systematize a kind of theology of superstitions in Norwegian rural communities. With this approach there was actually not much good that Sundt could say about the material he studied. He saw that it had some historical interest and in that sense a scholarly value, but most of it was in the process of disappear- ing – and he did not deplore that. Sundt also believed that the superstition could say something about changes in the spiritual status or cultural level of the population, but his general opinion was that a lot of evil and negative things could be found. He therefore forged an alliance with schoolteachers 80 Arne Bugge Amundsen all over Norway to collect and systematize false notions and get the young generation to distance themselves from their ancestors. In other words, there was not much romantic thinking in Eilert Sundt. If anything, he was influenced by the old Enlightenment project to replace superstition with rational ideas and confessional Christianity. For him folk culture in this sense was of no interest for theology and the church, other than as a negative contrast. And even if it is easier to find traces of romantic thought in Andreas Faye and Jørgen Moe – the community of peoples, the distinctive national character, the reflection of nature in culture, the poetic aesthetics, the historical lines going back to the Old Norse, the significance of the national language – the link between the romantically interpreted folk culture and the church ecclesiastical piety is weak or virtually non-existent. An important reason for this is presumably that there was too great a distance between a modern confessional Lutheran understanding of Christian- ity and the religious reality of which traces could be found, it was believed, in the part of the common people who were bearers of “folk culture” (Amundsen 2010–11:6ff). These are important observations if we are to place Magnus Brostrup Landstad in relation to his colleagues and fellow clergy.

Magnus Brostrup Landstad’s Landscape An important theme in Landstad’s dealings with folk culture was his reflections on the relationship between contemporary modernity and the distinctively national. In his own time he found that it was change, movement, and vulgarization that dominated, and that processes were working to eliminate the last traces of the distinctive national character as they could be detected in folk culture. The fact that culture changed rapidly and people moved more than previously meant that distinctive national features were erased. He describes this theme in such a central place as the introduction to his edition of folksongs from 1852: “We are thus now in a time of transition here in the mountain communities, where the new clashes with the old, and a motley blend is visible both in the clothing of the body and in that of the spirit, which is the language.” His conclusion was that it was now urgent to rescue “what can be rescued and deserves to be preserved of the old”. In other words, there was also a lot that could be allowed to disappear without damaging the national character; perhaps it even had to disappear: “The old must go under. It is with the same sense of melancholy with which one takes farewell of an old friend that a person who has become accustomed to these old-fashioned ways and felt comfortable among them sees them disappear, and the only consolation one has is that this is how it must be …” (Landstad 1853:iv). The Folk in the Church 81 When he goes on to describe “the time of transition” in detail that Land- stad invokes the metaphor of the burning house: “I too ought to lend a hand to rescue, if possible, an old family jewel from the burning house” (op. cit.). It has been common to interpret this image to mean that Landstad thought it was a matter of urgency to collect folklore, and this is probably true enough. On the other hand, not much has been made of the actual image, the metaphor of “the burning house”. The house as such can be read as an expression of permanence, the collective, traditional, total – representing the God-made human community and the framework around it. The whole confessional Lutheran understanding of the Christian community subject to God’s will had often been summed up in the past in the metaphor of the house, for instance in such a key text as Martin Luther’s Haustafel, the household code appended to his small catechism. And Landstad’s point is that this metaphorical house is on fire – it is destruction, the loss of a historically and religiously defined context that is in progress. This development is not defined only as something coming from the outside, but as something at the heart of peasant culture itself, with the result that even mountain farmers are starting to dress and talk differently. It is the clerical official Landstad who declares this, not the schoolteacher Faye, the poet Moe, or the social reformer Sundt. The question then is whether it is possible to find in this metaphor some distinctive feature in Landstad’s approach to folk culture. Possible answers to this can be given through a reading of three “Landstad cases”: his poem about Nesland church, his description of folk customs and rituals, and his encounter with the free church.

Nesland Church Magnus Brostrup Landstad became famous all over Norway in 1852 when he published – in Fredrikshald – a long poem about the recently demolished stave church at Nesland in Vinje Parish. Following a long political debate in the local community, it was torn down in 1847 after the parish acquired a new, larger church. From having been a local controversy, the demolished stave church, as a result of Landstad’s poem, suddenly became a national concern. The poem as such is interesting enough, but just as interesting for understanding Landstad’s way of thinking is the introduction to the poem. Here he says that what has occurred is that “the people” have deprived themselves of an irreplaceable national treasure. It happened as a consequence of local disagreement about who should pay for the maintenance of the old church after the new one had been built. Landstad himself had tried to mobilize opinion to preserve the stave church, but he acted too late. Publishing the poem five years after the demolition was a way to warn against comparable 82 Arne Bugge Amundsen

In his long, printed poem about the old stave church in Nesland (1852) Landstad critized the local peasants for their destruction of this important national historical monument. The Folk in the Church 83 events (a warning that would prove to be in vain), but probably the most important thing was to erect a poetic monument to the significance of the demolished stave church. Nesland church, according to Landstad, was an important monument because it made it possible to recreate the past and transform national and Christian history into present-day experience: “it made itself felt, and one suddenly had the sensation of being transported back to a long-vanished time” (Landstad 1852:5). If it had been preserved, it would have been able to arouse that feeling in others. Through six centuries it had been the framework for a folk religiosity that had long since vanished, with pilgrimages, celebration of Midsummer Eve, and old-fashioned sermon reading. Land- stad had to admit that the stave church had been cold, dark, and cramped, but it could have been left standing as “remnant of antiquity”. Twelve thou- sand services had been held here, and it had created a physical framework for the possibility of experiencing history, the landscape, and Christian feasts on the site. By demolishing Nesland church, the local farmers had profaned the place and the church. The “folk” who had acted in Vinje and Nesland were not portrayed in a positive light by Landstad; they were petty, stingy, vulgar, lacking insight. But perhaps this was inevitable, because (ibid.:21) Tiden hun er en flyvende Fugl og haver en Vinge stærk, knuser hun med sit blødeste Dun det stærkeste Mandeværk. Time is like a flying bird, her wing is powerful, crushes with her softest down the strongest work of man. With these lines, Landstad marks that the tension between historical permanence and man-made change is a challenge for national culture and an occasion for grief among those who seek to preserve the past. Traces of history can and should be preserved, but this does not prevent changes from taking place. There are always old friends to say farewell to.

Custom and Legend In the poem about Nesland church we meet Landstad when he laments how changes in society lead to the loss of opportunities to experience the organic bond between history, culture, and religion. In his accounts of traditions and narratives in peasant settings in Telemark, it is an encounter with people’s actual behaviour he describes. Little of this was printed in Landstad’s lifetime, but I shall look here more closely at the material that was published in 1927 under the title Skik og Sagn fra Telemarken (Customs and Legends from Telemark). 84 Arne Bugge Amundsen The folksongs he collected and published in 1852 were good enough, because they reflected that among the common people there was a voice of “the folk”, even if it was weak and vanishing. But how did Landstad relate to what people in his own congregation actually did? One might expect that he was behaving like Faye, Moe, and Sundt when they rejected the pagan and Catholic “survivals” still maintained by the peasantry through their traditional customs. When Landstad describes how the peasants of Telemark celebrate Christ- mas, Easter, and Whit, for example, he does so in the form of ethnographic accounts, but they are timeless and rather general. His description of Christ- mas celebrations is fairly positive up to the reading from the book of ser- mons on Christmas Eve, but there is a sudden change when he quotes a schoolteacher’s report: for the devotions were followed by drinking and noisy revelry from one farm to the next, and then the Christmas vigil and a frantic journey to the church on Christmas morning. The schoolmaster, however, was able to report that this kind of behaviour had been more common in the past; the “bad habits” had now been abandoned by God-fearing families (Landstad 1927:13). Landstad is more positive in his description of the celebration of Easter and Whit, as “the religious aspect of these feasts comes better into its own”. When he then returns to an assessment of Christmas celebrations he writes that they “retained something of their old pagan touch, and sacred and pro- fane were sadly blended in folk life. The immoderate eating and drinking also help to drive Christ away, and call back the Asgard gang” (ibid.:19). As for wedding customs in Telemark, Landstad criticizes the Enlighten- ment theologian Hans Jacob Wille (1756–1808), who describes the corresponding customs in far too negative terms in his description of Seljord from 1786, but Landstad admits: “it should not be denied that these customs, for us who are used to the refinement of modern times, are somewhat crude and repulsive, ridiculous”. Landstad points out, however, that these customs were more beautiful and simple in the past (ibid.:21). Landstad’s assessments are complex. He points out how the folk customs could have ancient pagan elements, and that immoral aspects could drive out Christ out and bring the gods of Asgard into the Christmas feast, but his overall impression of these festive customs seems favourable. This positive view contains several elements. First of all, Landstad emphasizes that the festive customs must be viewed in the light of the past, partly because they were simpler, purer, and perhaps more moral then, and partly because they are an echo of “the saga age”, the mythical Norse past. The festive customs of the folk should really be read backwards: “If one first becomes familiar with the saga age and then with the folklife in our mountain communities […] one can be reconciled with a great deal that formerly made one indignant because it was considered of- The Folk in the Church 85 fensive or unseemly. That, at any rate, is how it worked for me.” The festive customs, in other words, contained historical and national characteristics. Secondly, according to Landstad, one must be able to see through perhaps distorted outward forms of these customs as they are today to catch sight of “the moral strength, the wealth of spiritual vigour that is still active in our mountain people, despite the heavy days through which they have to struggle”. This is the dynamic of the “time of transition” that Landstad described in the introduction to the edition of folksongs he published in 1852. For “what is coarse is not therefore more spiritually impure than the refinement under which unchastity finds a better disguise”. The spiritual vitality and moral strength that Landstad describes here seem to contain historical vigour, moral weight, and religious experience. The “mountain people” – the peasants of Telemark – are in Landstad’s opinion closer to the national, historical, and Christian essence than many of the educated and refined people of the present day (ibid.:21f). Landstad assembles these perspectives in a combination of personal clerical reflections and an appeal to his fellow clergymen. In a note he states: “In the same way the priest in the old days dined at the same table as his children and servants – and indeed I often feel a desire to do the same” (ibid.: 12). Here we can detect Landstad’s dream of the united household, the God-loving Christian community, where the priest was a father and guide to his congregation; this is the dream of a house before the fire broke out. And he advises his clerical brethren not to assist in maintaining the distance between priests and “the people among whom and for whom we are supposed to work”. In the encounter with “our mountain valleys” the clergy should not “imagine that they have come among savages […]and immediately start raging against everything old, as the people have had to endure too much” (ibid.:22f). In the descriptions of the festive customs of “the mountain folk” we see Landstad as the conciliatory, experienced rural priest who tries to meet his congregation on their own terms. At the same time, he is the father and head of his flock, because his understanding of the Christian tradition, the national culture, and the nation’s history enables him to see the values represented by this congregation. As a clerical official he therefore tries to defend his congregation and thereby his Lutheran church and its distinctive national character.

Landstad in Fredrikshald There is an element in this that is at once important and confusing: the poem about Nesland church, the edition of Norwegian folksongs, and the description of festive customs in Telemark were written or published while Magnus Brostrup Landstad was rector in Fredrikshald. He had been appointed to this 86 Arne Bugge Amundsen

Marcus Thrane (1817– 1890) was an author, journalist, and the leader of the first Norwegian labour movement, later known as the Thrane movement, from 1848. He was prisoned in 1851, and emigrated to the United States in the 1860s. office in 1849, and a short time later he was also elected dean of Nedre Borgesyssel. Scarcely any part of Norway could be further removed from “the mountain communities” and “the saga age” as this part of the country (see Bjørndal 2002). The lumber industry, trade, and shipping had turned Fredrikshald into a thriving part of the new Norway. Social differences were large, migration was extensive, and religious unrest was palpable. The radical socialist movement under the leadership of the agitator Marcus Thrane (1817–1890) had gained a firm foothold here, as had strong, independent, and sometimes rebellious pietistic groups. Parts of the educated bourgeoisie entrenched themselves at a distance from much of what was happening, while the radical pietist Olaus Nielsen (1810–1888) advocated freedom from the modern clergy and the religious books with their newfangled ideas. When parliament repealed the Konventikkelplakat, the ordinance governing religious assembly, in 1842 it became possible for anyone to announce religious meetings and gatherings without using the local parish priest, and the radical Dis- senter Act of 1845 enabled anyone over the age of fifteen to leave “the The Folk in the Church 87 Church of Norway” and join some other organized Christian denomination, or none at all. In Landstad’s time as parish priest in Fredrikshald there was one group that made particular use of the provisions of the Dissenter Act: the Method- ists. Brought home by Norwegian seamen who had experienced it in Ame- rica, Methodism appealed to many of the socially insecured workers in the town. When a Methodist pastor in 1856 announced that he would be holding services in the town, Landstad as parish priest and dean reacted immediately and with great vehemence. His argument was that no outsider had the right to use his parish for pursuing missionary work. Methodism was heretical and it came from abroad. It therefore had no place in a congregation where Landstad was rightfully called and appointed. He based his argumentation on article 14 of the Confessio Augustana, the most important confessional document of the Lutheran church. Of course he was aware of the provisions of the Dissenter Act, but he interpreted them in the narrowest sense possible. Since this act meant that the Norwegian church was unable to reject anything that conflicted with its confession and its unity, it was a coercive law – and “I cannot believe in any such madness in our legislation”. Landstad published his correspondence with the town’s civil authorities on this matter, but he did not receive unreserved support from his bishop, Jens Lauritz Arup (1793–1874) in Christiania, and the Methodists established their legal congregation in the middle of Landstad’s parish, turning it, in practice, into Methodist missionary territory (Rygnestad 1955:31f). The move from rural Telemark to urban Smålenene must have been violent for Landstad. Of the “folklife” he had described, analysed, and valued in his writings from the 1850s, he found not a trace in Fredrikshald. What he found there, on the other hand, was the attack by modern liberal society on the unity and purity of the Lutheran church and on the honour and responsibility of its clerical officials. But he still had a believing congregation that was threatened and injured; indeed it had been set on fire. There were no folksongs or festive customs here to remind him of the “saga age”, and no stave churches to rescue either. On the other hand, he did try to save the innocence of his Lutheran congregation. This attempt was doomed to failure.

The Folk in the Church? This analysis of different clerical profiles in Norway in the first half of the nineteenth century has shown that Magnus Brostrup Landstad was one of several Norwegian priests and theologians, influenced by both the Enlight- enment and romanticism, who took an interest in folk culture as an idea and as inspiration for action. The relative strength of the influence of Enlighten- ment and romantic philosophies can be discussed. Presumably the result as regards the Norwegian clergy was of hybrid character. This shows that Vil- 88 Arne Bugge Amundsen mos Voigt’s question whether there was a common “ecclesiastical code” for the understanding of folk culture in the nineteenth century is not easy to answer unambiguously. What figures like Andreas Faye, Jørgen Moe, Eilert Sundt, and Magnus Brostrup Landstad had in common, however, was a notion that narratives and customs among the Norwegian peasantry had more than an intrinsic interest; this was also a source for understanding national history, culture, and religion. But while Faye, Moe, and Sundt all had obvious problems in com- bining their interest in the national folk culture with their official clerical duties, Landstad brought these entities together in a context that was – for want of a better word – pastoral. All the time when Landstad was engaged in his cultural activities he was also a working priest, the shepherd of his flock. With his interest in folk culture both as an idea and as contemporary practice in the congregations, he tried to arrive at a position that combined folk culture and ecclesiastical culture. He determined this position from many of the fundamental perspectives of romanticism: in folk culture there were traces leading back in national history, which opened for a contemporary experience of the unity of history, culture, and religion, and it could provide a cultural and moral critique reminding the educated intellectual world about Christianity’s fundamental demand for moral purity and spiritual strength. The sources of this folk culture were, on the one hand, “folk” in the sense that their existence could be demonstrated in the “mountain communities”, but on the other hand they were not “folk” in the sense that they were identical with everything that the mountain people did or told stories about. The voice that united all this was the pastoral one, the voice of the clerical official who knew the history of the nation, the Lutheran confessional tradition, and the contemporary challenge from destructive and divisive forces in society. When read in this way, we see that Landstad tried to incorporate folk culture in church culture in a way that distinguished him from Faye, Moe, and Sundt. And of course it was all a hopeless project. Landstad’s experiences in Fredrikshald clearly demonstrated this. His search for new positions for ecclesiastical authority and unity, a search that also entailed an attempt to create a national social, cultural, and moral community around the shared Lutheran ecclesiastical culture was overtaken by the liberal ideology of modern society. The same thing happened with the political and religious processes that were thrown open to the common people. The “folk” who took part in these processes demonstrated and created a different “folk” from the one desired by Faye, Sundt, Moe, and Landstad in their more or less romantic approach to the national – the Haugeans were a “deterrent example” of “the other folk”, as were the peasant politicians and the leftists. When this kind of “folk” were admitted to the project, it was ruined: the The Folk in the Church 89

The industrialized city of Fredrikshald (now Halden) in Southwestern Norway represented many of the cultural values that Landstad despised. common people answered back and demanded their rights from the elite. The fate of Nesland church was one example of this; another was the victory of the Methodists in Fredrikshald. And the humility vis-à-vis folk culture in “the mountain communities” that Landstad recommended to his fellow clergymen was presumably built on a shaky foundation.

(Translated by Alan Crozier)

Arne Bugge Amundsen, dr.philos. Professor of Cultural History Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages University of Oslo P.O.Box 1010, Blindern NO-0315 Oslo Norway e-mail: [email protected]

References Amundsen, Arne Bugge 1992: Presteprofiler i ytre Østfold på 1800-tallet. Bernt T. Oftestad (ed.): Prest og predikant på 1800-tallet. Foredrag fra Isegran-semina- ret 1991. (Kirkegeografi for Østfold 1.) Sarpsborg. Amundsen, Arne Bugge 1999: Med overtroen gjennom historien. Noen linjer i folk- 90 Arne Bugge Amundsen loristisk faghistorie 1730–1930. Siv Bente Grongstad, Ole Marius Hylland & Arnfinn Pettersen (eds.): Hinsides. Folkloristiske perspektiver på det over- naturlige. Oslo. Amundsen, Arne Bugge 2002: Fortelling og foredling. Andreas Faye som romantisk sagnfortolker. Arne Bugge Amundsen, Bjarne Hodne & Ane Ohrvik (eds.): Sagnomsust. Fortelling og virkelighet. Oslo. Amundsen, Arne Bugge 2007: Books, Letters and Communication. Hans Nielsen Hauge and the Haugean Movement in Norway, 1796–1840. Arne Bugge Amund- sen (ed.): Revival and Communication. Studies in the History of Scandinavian Revivals 1700–2000. (Bibliotheca historico-ecclesiastica lundensis 49.) Lund. Amundsen, Arne Bugge 2010: Haugeanism between Liberalism and Traditionalism in Norway 1796–1845. Jonathan Strom (ed.): Pietism and Community in Europe and North America, 1650–1850. (Brill’s Series in Church History 45/Religious History and Culture Series 4.) Leiden & Boston. Amundsen, Arne Bugge 2010–11: Clerical Culture and Nation Building. Four Nor- wegian Nineteenth Century Examples, http://spinnet.eu/images/2010-11/amund- sen_norwegian_examples.pdf. Bjørndal, Ivar 2002: Magnus Brostrup Landstad. Prest, dikter og borger i Fred- rikshald 1849–59. Halden. Elstad, Hallgeir 2000: “-en Kraft og et Salt i Menigheden-”. Ein studie av dei såkalla “johnsonske prestane” i siste halvpart av 1800-talet i Norge. Oslo. Eriksen, Anne & Anne Stensvold 2002: Maria-kult og helgendyrkelse i moderne ka- tolisisme. Oslo. Haanes, Vidar 1998: “Hvad skal da dette blive for prester?” Presteutdannelse i spenningsfeltet mellom universitet og kirke, med vekt på modernitetens gjennom- brudd i Norge. (KIFO Perspektiv 5.) Trondheim. Hodne, Ørnulf 1982: Jørgen Moe. Folkeminnesamler, dikter, prest. Oslo. Landstad, Magnus Brostrup 1852: Neslands Kirke. Et Digt. Fredrikshald. Landstad, Magnus Brostrup 1853: Norske Folkeviser samlede og udgivne. Kris- tiania. Landstad, Magnus Brostrup 1927: Fra Telemarken. Skik og sagn. Efterladte opteg- nelser. (Norsk Folkeminnelags skrifter 15.) Oslo. Mannsåker, Dagfinn 1954: Det norske presteskapet i det 19. hundreåret. Sosialhis- toriske studiar. Oslo. Rygnestad, Knut 1955: Dissentarspørsmålet i Noreg frå 1845 til 1891. Lovgjeving og administrativ praksis. Oslo. Voigt, Vilmos 2010–2011: Is There an Ecclesiastic Code of Early Folk Song and Folk Ballad Collecting in Europe? http://spinnet.eu/images/2010-11/voigt_folk.pdf. An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 91 An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists A Biographical Sketch of Reidar Th. Christiansen (1886–1971)

Bjarne Rogan

Reidar Th. Christiansen was among Norway’s most important folklorists of the twentieth century. Yet he is less well known today and less referred to than those who preceded him, Moltke Moe and Knut Liestøl, and those who followed, Svale Solheim and Olav Bø – just to mention the succession of professors of folklore at the University of Oslo during that century. This lack of acknowledgement is all the more remarkable as he published far more than any of his contemporaries, with a broader thematic spread and covering a much wider geographic area. This state of anonymity was relative, however; internationally he was Norway’s most renowned folklorist. For 35 years Christiansen was active at Norsk Folkeminnesamling (NFS, or the National Folklore Archives of Norway) and the University of Oslo. He was the foremost archivist in Norway, both for organizing the archive and for the invention and implementation of catalogues. The development of NFS was in the main his merit. Christiansen was appointed to the chair after Knut Liestøl in 1952 and was succeeded by Svale Solheim from 1956. All through his long career he made important contributions to the development of the discipline, and he had a more holistic conception of the field than most of his contemporaries and especially his successors. To him folklore and ethnology were but two faces of the same coin, and this currency included comparative religion. In a period when the milieu was impregnated by national considerations and embedded in the nation-building process, Christiansen looked to more distant horizons. He did archive research and fieldwork in Finland, in Ire- land and in the USA. He had an exceptionally broad international contact network and he received many honours from abroad, in the form of guest professorships and the like. Back home in Norway, however, he tended to be overshadowed by others. In the struggle carried on by the adherents of nynorsk (Neo-Nor- wegian), to whom belonged the great majority of the folklorists, he sided 92 Bjarne Rogan with the urban elite who used riksmål, that is the conservative, Danish-like version of the vernacular. Furthermore, and in opposition to several of his fellow folklorists, he did not care about national culture politics. In the interwar period and the early post-war years it might have entailed some cost to put an international perspective before a national one. Obviously, this “sin” of his has contributed to Christiansen’s position in the half-shadows of the “national strategists” of folklore and the vernacular. A major aim in this article is to view Christiansen as an international agent, another is to study the development of a writing career stretching over more than 50 years. A third intention is to refute the widespread opinion today that Christiansen remained locked in the historical-geographical or “Finnish school” research paradigm.

Life Course and Career The son of a vicar (Olaf Martinius Christiansen, 1858–1932), Reidar Thor- alf studied theology – intellectual baggage that he shared with more than one folklorist. He obtained the degree of Cand. Theol. in 1909, but he did not want to be ordained, a choice that his father the vicar supported. When still a student of theology, he began reading Finnish and Sami, and he made contacts with the professor of folklore, Moltke Moe (d. 1913). He combined these interests in philology and folklore when he obtained a scholarship from the University of Oslo and travelled to Finland in 1912. In Helsinki he met Kaarle Krohn, who gave him first-hand insight into the historical-geographical method for comparative studies of oral literature. The two kept close contact for many years.1 In the years 1914 to 1916 Christian- sen travelled with new grants in his pocket. He went to Copenhagen, where he came into contact with Axel Olrik, and he visited Berlin, where he met the renowned folktale researcher Johannes Bolte.2 In 1916, after his dissertation, he spent a period in Lund, where made close contacts with Carl Wil- helm von Sydow and established a friendship that lasted until von Sydow’s death in 1952.3 During these formative years, partly while he was writing his thesis, he was in direct contact with the leading folklorists in all the Nordic countries, the four founders of The Folklore Fellows included. In Lund he met Karin Lundblad from Tågarp (near Landskrona) whom he married in 1920, a liaison that strengthened his bonds to Sweden. One of the great advantages Christiansen had as a researcher was his unusually wide command of languages. In addition to the main European languages and the Scandinavian ones, he mastered Finnish, Sami, Russian, Irish and (Scots) Gaelic. For a period he studied Arabic, in order to widen his field of research to the Middle East, and as a theologian he could read texts in Latin, Ancient Greek and Hebrew. And Old Norse and Icelandic texts offered him no problem, as can be seen from original quotations in his An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 93

Reidar Th. Christiansen. Portrait by Øyvind Sørensen (1887–1962), Aftenposten 1956. Be- longs to Christiansen’s daughter Elin Christiansen Smit. Photo Arthur Sand. texts. His private library included well-used grammars and dictionaries of a series of other languages, such as Turkish, Breton, Serbo-Croatian, Spanish, Hungarian, and others.4 His knowledge of and interest in languages made him better prepared for archive work and comparative studies than virtually any other Nordic folklorist. Among his merits is the translation into Nor- wegian of the breakthrough novel of Mika Waltari, The Grand Illusion, in 94 Bjarne Rogan 1929, only a year after its publication in Finnish. Ten years later Christian- sen, together with the distinguished Norwegian author and “national laure- ate” Arnulf Øverland, published a translation of another novel of Waltari, A Stranger Came to the Farm (1939, original publication 1937). Telling evidence of his reputation and his proficiency in Finnish is the fact that he was appointed – as first archivist – to the expert committee for the chair of “Finnish and comparative folk poetry research” both in 1929– 30 (after Kaarle Krohn) and in 1948 (after Uno Harva), as well as for the chair of “Finnish and comparative ethnology” in Turku in 1962. Christiansen received his doctor’s degree in 1915 for a comparative study in German of Finnish and Norwegian variants of an old magic spell – the second Merseburg formula (die zweite Merseburger Zaubersprüche). This medieval charm, which is known from books of black magic from most parts of Europe up to the nineteenth century, in pagan and Christian variants, is a formula for healing a horse’s sprained foot or fractured leg. The following year he obtained a four-year university scholarship (adjunktstipend, 1916–20). When the chair after Moltke Moe (d. 1913) was announced in 1917, the 31-year-old Christiansen presented himself, in competition with Knut Liestøl and C. W. von Sydow. The committee deemed von Sydow the best qualified. Liestøl, being better versed in Norwegian topics, however, was offered the chair for “national reasons”.5 And the young scholar Chris- tiansen pursued his studies in new directions. During his first years of scholarship, Finnish culture and language were closest to his mind and heart. He never abandoned his Finnish interests, but just after World War I he engaged in a lifelong relationship with Ireland and with Irish and Gaelic popular culture. His closest circle of colleagues in Oslo consisted of philologists and linguists: Carl Marstrander (Celtic), Alf Sommerfeldt (Breton, Celtic), Konrad Nielsen (Sami, Finno-Ugrian languages) and Adolf Fonahn (Asian languages). This circle must have meant as much – and perhaps more – to him than the national-minded and Neo-Norwegian milieu of cultural historians in Oslo, very many of whom came from a rural and “counter-cultural” background. On the other hand, there was no open warfare with the “nationalists”. Christiansen got along well with both Nils Lid and Knut Liestøl. Or as he wrote to his Irish friend Séamus Ó Duilearga about Liestøl in 1951, just after Liestøl’s retirement: “He is a good man, you know, and I know from some 30 years of daily collaboration how just and good; and even our disagreement on our language business has never led to a fight. By some it would be considered the same as if you had an Ulsterman in your office!”6 To the above names of close colleagues should be added that of Magnus Olsen, the successor of Sophus Bugge. Professor Olsen was the foremost Norse philologist of his time, but also with broad scholarship in religion, myths, and onomastics – fields that interested Christiansen. Both through An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 95 his central university position and as founder and editor of the journal Maal og Minne, Olsen served as an academic mentor to Christiansen. Cooperation with Finnish and Swedish folklorists was his entrance to Germany in the 1930s (Berlin, Greifswald, Freiburg). His contacts with German scholars seem to have ceased completely during the war, and post-war contact with German Volkskunde was confined to some editorial work for the Göttingen-based journal Fabula. All the more hearty, however, was his relationship to American folklore both before and after the war, especially to Stith Thompson – a friendship that had started in the 1920s, as well as Warren E. Roberts and the Bloomington scholars. His international network was very large. He travelled much and was an assiduous letter writer. He has left behind a huge amount of correspondence, not least with Irish colleagues like Séamus Ó Duilearga and Seán Ó Súilleabháin. Among Nordic folklorists and historians of religion who were close to him were the Dane Ferdinand Ohrt, the Finn Uno Harva and the Swede Carl-Herman Till- hagen – to mention just a few. He also collaborated closely with Sigurd Erixon both before and especially after the war, on international issues (journals and organizations). In 1920 Christiansen had been appointed to the position of archivist at the newly established Norsk Folkeminnesamling (NFS, The Folklore Archives of Norway), at the University of Oslo, the forerunner of the Institute of Folk- lore. In Professor Liestøl’s period as Minister of Culture (1933–35), Chris- tiansen held the chair as deputy. There were very few, if any, students or teaching obligations, and Christiansen’s teaching took place mostly in other institutions. As a fresh theologian he had earned his living for a couple of years in secondary schools. From 1932 to 1943, when the Nazi authorities closed the university, he taught Sami and Finnish during the long leaves of absence of Professor Konrad Nielsen. And he gave courses in Sami for the emissaries of the Lapp Mission. When the chair of history of religion became vacant in 1939 (a chair he applied for), he lectured there too until it closed in 1943. From 1946 until his retirement he taught Norwegian popular traditions every year at the International Summer School at the University of Oslo. From his period as a research fellow until well after the war he travelled all over south-eastern Norway on Saturdays and Sundays to give lectures at the Popular Academies (Folkeakademiene), and after the war he also gave a number of popular talks on radio. In the daily and weekly press he wrote a high but unknown number of popular articles on folklore, history, biographies, comparative religion and literature, an activity that he jestingly used to call his “home industry” but which gave some sorely needed supplement to a meagre salary as an archivist. Knut Liestøl, his senior by only five years, for a long time blocked the chair for the far more versatile Christiansen with his wide-ranging interests. When Liestøl retired in 1951, the assessment committee for the chair of 96 Bjarne Rogan folklore, consisting of professors Nils Lid, Magnus Olsen and Dag Ström- bäck, had an easy task. There were no other applicants than Christiansen, and the committee was enthusiastic in its appraisal. Not a single critical re- mark was uttered. The committee was overwhelmed by the volume of his scholarly output and by the wide geographical and thematic range of his publications, stating that his publications were “extremely wide-ranging” with “contributions to all special fields of folklore”; Christiansen is described as a “driving force in the relatively young science of folklore, which has […] made the whole world its workplace”; his publications show “an exceptional breadth and erudition” and Christiansen himself “occupying a prominent place at the cutting edge of research”.7 Just after the retirement from his chair in Oslo, Christiansen was invited as a guest professor to Indiana University, Bloomington, in the circle around his close friend Stith Thompson. Near the end of the stay in Bloomington (1956–57), he was strongly urged by Scottish colleagues to apply for the vacant position as director of the School of Scottish Studies in Edinburgh. So he did, but he felt a great relief when finally he was not elected.8 At the same time he was called upon to spend a year at the Irish Folklore Commission in Dublin (1957–58), to assist his colleague Seán Ó Súilleabháin with cataloguing Irish fairytales. In 1963–64 he was invited as a guest professor to Leeds, at the only university department in England that for a period taught folklife studies, until it was closed down under Margaret Thatcher’s regime as Secretary of State for Education in the early 1970s. Christiansen’s retirement years, from 1956 to the mid 1960s, were extremely productive. In addition to several important articles, he published as a pensioner no less than six books and comprehensive catalogues – all in English or German – which contributed to his position as an ambassador for Norwegian folklore studies. He was made Doctor Honoris Causa at Univer- sity College Dublin in 1954.

Membership and honours Member of Suomalaisen kirjallisuuden seura (Finnish Literature Society) from 1921; Member of Videnskabsselskapet / Det Norske Vitenskapsakademi (The Norwegian Academy of Science and Letters) from 1922 and Secretary of its Historical-Philosophical Class 1938– 45; Member of the Board of Instituttet for sammenlignende kulturforskning (Institute for Comparative Research in Human Culture) 1923–64 and leader of several of its subsections; Member of Suoma- lais-ugrilainen seura (Finno-Ugrian Society) from 1949; Member of Kalevalaseura (Kalevala Society) from 1949; Member of Kungl. Gus- taf Adolfs akademien (Royal Gustavus Adolphus Academy) from 1949; President of the Commission internationale d’ethnologie et de folklore (CIAP) 1954–64. An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 97 The Archivist and the Catalogues Norsk Folkeminnesamling (NFS) had been established in 1914 as a national archive for folkloristic material. The chair of folklore was formally in charge of the archive, but there are few traces of Professor Knut Liestøl in the collections. It was Christiansen, engaged in 1920 as its first archivist, who did practically everything in the archive all through Liestøl’s long period in the chair, including the publishing in cooperation with Norsk Folkeminnelag (NFL). Christiansen’s role for the discipline of folklore in Norway can hardly be overestimated. He systematized the older collections of manuscripts, took care of the library and organized new collections. A task of fundamental importance was the creation of a systematic catalogue. This had a practical as well as a theoretical aspect: practical, as a working tool – because it was important to guide the network of local collectors, in order to secure homo- geneous material that could be filed directly; theoretical – because the classification system that he invented had a normative function, it “froze” the categories and consequently the conception of the whole field. The categories thus defined would steer future collecting in the field, and the classification scheme would function as a programmatic declaration of what the science of folklore was supposed to be.9 As early as 1917 he had published the first manual for collecting, Veiledning ved indsamling av folkeminder, and in 1925 he published a more comprehensive manual, Norske folkeminne: En veiledning for samlere og interesserte (125 pp.). Christiansen also experimented with new forms of collecting. His book Norske sagn (Norwegian Legends, 1938) is based on material collected through the weekly press. The object of the catalogue was thus threefold: to organize the collecting, to make the material accessible, and to develop folklore as a scholarly discipline. With the latter challenge in mind Christiansen addressed very ambitious classification projects for two types of materials: fairy tales and legends. During his very first year at NFS he wrote Norske eventyr: En systematisk fortegnelse efter trykte og utrykte kilder (1921, Norwegian Fairy- tales: A Systematic Inventory based on Published and Unpublished Sources.) This was a pioneering work in the field of fairytale catalogues. He was inspired by the Finnish folklorist Antti Aarne’s first, short type catalogue from 1910. But Christiansen’s development of a motif index and the inclusion of variants, based on the Norwegian material, attracted attention internationally. A shorter version of the catalogue was published in English the following year (The Norwegian Fairytales: A Short Summary, 1922), and this edition contributed to a standardization of the classification scheme. During the 1920s national catalogues were published in several countries, many of which have emphasized Christiansen’s edition as a model. Stith Thompson described it as “perhaps the most thorough that has appeared 98 Bjarne Rogan from any country” (1946:399). Thompson has himself proposed further developments (1928, 1932–37, 1961) towards a detailed international reference system of types and motifs, and a final version – for the time being – of the type catalogue has been proposed by Hans-Jörg Uther (2004). Christiansen’s catalogue of Norwegian fairytales was revised in 1984 by Ørnulf Hodne. The need for a revision was not due to an outdated typology or classification, but to the fact that much new material was available, mainly through the released collections of Richard Berge and the series Norsk Eventyrbibliotek. Ørnulf Hodne’s revised and enhanced edition brought a simplification as regards the motif index of all the variants. Because of his thorough experience with classification and his knowledge of Irish language and Irish traditions, Christiansen was called to Dublin in 1957–58, to assist Seán Ó Súilleabháin in his work with a catalogue of Irish tales. The Types of the Irish Folktale (1963) contains an index with reference to some 43,000 variants, published and unpublished. As stated by Brynjulf Alver (1974:193): Only those who have worked with the typology of oral tradition are able to understand the incredible amount of work that goes into the making of such a catalogue, with the reading of manuscripts, making excerpts, evaluating and checking the material. Legends were also made the object of scholarly systematization by Chris- tiansen. In 1958 he published The Migratory Legends: A Proposed List of Types with a Systematic Catalogue of the Norwegian Variants. The migratory legends were systematized and exemplified on the basis of the Nor- wegian material, mainly from the collections of NFS. The reception abroad was very positive. “I threw myself over it like a hungry wolf”, Åsa Nyman wrote.10 She was at that time responsible for the edition of the volume on legends, beliefs and customs of the Atlas för svensk folkkultur. American folklorists were also enthusiastic. “Infallible for the kind of thing we wanted”, wrote Edson Richmond, who proposed that a similar classification should be transferred to ballad research.11 “A very important scholarly contribution,” Warren E. Roberts stated, adding that he hoped it would have the same influence on legend research that Antti Aarne’s work had had on folktale research.12 Francis Lee Utley characterized it as “epoch- making in its definition and classification” and as a tool that finally made it clear what was contained in this diffuse category.13 Stith Thompson was just as clear in his verdict, or as he wrote in his memoirs: “An indispensable reference for the study of popular legend” (1996:336). To my knowledge, the book was never reviewed in any of the main Norwegian journals. The catalogue was reprinted in New York in 1977 (Edvardsen 2010). But no international overview of this type of material has ever been published, as Thompson did for the fairytales. It may be due to the fact that classification was overshadowed by other approaches, such as those of morphology and structure, context and performance. But the need for both overview and An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 99 specific references, even with more recent types of studies in view, has led to a renaissance for type catalogues and motif indexes in the last couple of decades. The comprehensive catalogue of the Swedish folk legends, published by Bengt af Klintberg as recently as 2010, is the best proof of this . Christiansen’s catalogue of legends has not undergone a full revision, the way Ørnulf Hodne did with his fairytale catalogue. But a partly revised edition has been made accessible in an online version.14

Multifaceted Scholarship Christiansen’s bibliography (Tuneld 1978) lists 460 numbers, book reviews included. To this should be added a long series of popular articles in the daily and weekly press and radio lectures.15 His first article, published in German in 1910 in Finnish-ugrische Forschungen, is a study of an aetiological fairytale known only from Finn- ish and Scandinavian areas. In the early years he published several texts related to Finland, his doctoral thesis on magic charms and his first monograph on fairytales included, but from around 1915 he also produced texts based on Norwegian materials, and on collecting and archive issues. Around 1920 began his long flow of publications on Irish themes and Nordic-Celtic encounters. Christiansen never abandoned the eastern, Finno-Ugrian field. But if we look at his publishing activities over a span of time, the pivot shifted after the war to the Celtic area and the North Sea circumference, and later also more in the direction of North American topics. His research concerns all the contemporary subfields of folklore. Interna- tionally he enjoyed a stellar position as a fairytale researcher, and in Stith Thompson’s great survey (1946) Christiansen is depicted as “one of the ablest of folktale scholars”. In addition to studies of the itineraries of individual tales, he published exhaustive catalogues of Norwegian and Irish tales and two monographs. The first one – The Tale of the Two Travellers or the Blinded Man (1919) – is a detailed investigation of the movements in space of the variants of the tale, true to the contemporary historical-geographical method. Forty years later he published Studies in Irish and Scan- dinavian Folktales (1959), a quite different type of investigation on the interrelation between the traditions of the two culture areas. This study was hailed as “a major contribution” to the discipline (Roberts 1961) and as a highlight of his research (Alver 1974). Few if any have made so exhaustive investigations of legends as Chris- tiansen. Within the Celtic tradition he dealt with historical legends, first in some minor articles and then in the great monograph The Vikings and the Viking Wars in Irish and Gaelic Tradition (1931) – an investigation of ballads deriving from historical legends. In the centre stands the cluster of leg- 100 Bjarne Rogan Bloomington, Indiana, during the Mid-Centennary Congress (1950) arranged by Stith Thomp- son. Seated, from left: Åke Campbell, unidentified, Sigurd Erixon, Reidar Th. Christiansen, Walter Anderson, Mrs. Karfeld (folk song specialist), Otto Anderson. Standing, from left: Seán Ó Sulleabháin, unidentified, Laurits Bødker. Photo: National Folklore Collection, University College Dublin. An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 101 ends about the hero Finn, which must have originated in the Nordic period in Ireland. Christiansen shows how different traditions have melted together: Irish and Nordic traditions on the one hand and on the other mediae- val migratory stuff on the Franks’ warfare against their arch-enemy the Moors. Contemporary critics praised the investigation for situating the legends in a historical context. In later studies he focussed on legends that were less place-bound and more apt to migrate, mostly “mythical” legends that include representations of “the others”, or the underworld – gnomes, goblins, trolls or “trows”, wood nymphs, the little people, and so on. Among his many studies of legends, only a few can be mentioned here. “Gårdvette og markavette” (Farm gnomes and field gnomes, 1943/1946) is related to settlement and land clearing history, while “Til de norske sjøvetters historie” (On the History of Norwegian Sea Trolls, 1935/1946) states that the mermaid is a late phenomenon in Norwegian popular belief, probably an importation from the south combined with traits of “huldra” (the nymph of the forests) and very different from the old Norse sea trolls. The article “Sagnstudier” (Legend Studies, 1941) was declared by the expert committee for the chair as “an especially valuable contribution to the understanding and the interpretation of the legend tradition”. Several of his publications from the 1950s are comparative studies of migratory legends from the countries around the North Sea. His work on legends reached a ze- nith with the catalogue The Migratory Legends (1958). Christiansen’s last project on legends was never finished. He worked all through the 1960s gathering the threads and synthesizing the odd ends of his research on the representation of “the others” – “the little people”, “the hidden people” or the “hill people”, as he named them in letters to colleagues. This was also the subject of his last guest lectures at the University of Oslo, in 1968.16 By the time of his death in 1971 the manuscript remained a bunch of often hardly legible sketches, due to health problems and especially his impaired vision.17 One of his main fields of interest was comparative religion, a discipline that he taught for some years at the university (and he even applied for the chair when it became vacant towards the end of the 1930s) and a field that he included in folklore studies. As early as in his doctoral thesis (1915) he concluded that the charm against sprained horse feet was of Christian origin, and many of his later studies of mythical legends treat popular religious beliefs. He never missed a chance to stress the close relationship between comparative religion and folklore studies, disciplines that melted together in his research. Some of his studies rather belong to the history of religion. His knowledge of Sami and Finno-Ugrian culture is demonstrated in the booklet Ekstase og religion hos arktiske folk (1947), which appeared some years later as Ecstasy and Arctic Religion (1953). The former is a well-formed and easily read essay on ecstasy, or the spiritual travel of the shaman, as the cen- 102 Bjarne Rogan tral component of religious life in the arctic cultures. Shamanism is here treated as a universal religious experience, which is transformed into new forms as these societies become more differentiated. The English edition is an expanded and more thoroughly documented version of the topic. In the 1950s he also published several smaller articles on noaider (Sami shamans) and shamanism, Sami legends and mythology. His profound knowledge of legends and his interest in representations of death are combined in The Dead and the Living (1946b), a long essay that starts with a broad and erudite overview of Norwegian, Nordic, and Finno-Ugrian customs, usage and ways of thinking. In the second part he returns to the discussion of the legend cycle of “Kjetta på Dovre” (The Beast in the Dovre Mountains) – thirteen years after Liestøl’s critique (see below). He now situates the legend in a new context – no longer as a migratory legend, but as part of a complex of representations of the regular return of the dead, and as a possible reminiscence of pagan belief and an element that might contribute to a better understanding of the belief in the existence of the little people. Christiansen’s scholarly and popular publications range much wider, from editions of ballads, Norse mythology, riddles, proverbs and sayings, to texts on archives and collecting questions, on theoretical concepts such as “memorat” and “fabulat”, myth and metaphor, etc. There is no room here to enter all these fields, but mention should be made of his contributions to several local history publications, where he wrote popular texts on customs, beliefs and traditions. Together with Oluf Kolsrud he edited Boka om Land. His chapter in vol. II (1952) on local folklore and ethnology is among his most easily read, in spite of its length of more than 200 pages. In his publications Christiansen often make bridges to literature on anthropology and comparative religion. His texts often reflect an awareness of theoretical and methodological aspects, but in a discreet and indirect manner. Theoretical issues never burden the investigations. Or as he wrote late in life about his own teaching in Bloomington, where he was asked to teach classes on “Methods and techniques of folklore studies”: “a theme not of my chosing [sic] – because I have a distrust of all kinds of general methods, except using your own sense. The problem of course is to acquire gradually, very gradually some [methods]”.18 Unexpected words, perhaps, from a scholar who, some 20 to 30 years earlier, was considered one of the foremost specialists in Europe of the historical-geographical method. His strength as a researcher probably rested more upon his ability to introduce new questions and new perspectives than on purely theoretical issues. Many of his texts appear rather rich in words, descriptive and somewhat heavy to read because of a richness of documentation that may seem exag- gerated to a modern reader. A quotation practice that assumes that the reader is well acquainted with Latin and Old Norse is also an impediment to the An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 103 reading. However, the documentary form was quite typical of the comparative research and the erudite dissertations of the time. This is less a problem with his later texts, which are sometimes written with a poetic pen. He was mild in form but never spineless, and he was known to require high standards for doctoral dissertations. His opposition to Olav Bø’s dissertation on the St Olav tradition is a point in case. The discussion during the defence became quite heated and Christiansen repeated his critique in his review of the published thesis (1955). He criticized Bø for his almost total lack of international perspectives, for ignoring the written, historical sources, and also for his use of an exotic dialectal neo-Norwegian that made things difficult for the readers. Last but not least, Bø was told off for not having observed the obvious parallels between the Irish St Patrick and the St Olav traditions. In a polite manner Christiansen here targeted a heavy attack at the national line that Bø represented, with regard to perspectives as well as to linguistic form.

From Diffusion to Context Typology and comparison were Christiansen’s focus from his early years as a researcher. His doctoral thesis from 1914/15, Die finnischen und nordischen Varianten des zweiten Merseburgerspruches: Eine vergleichende Studie, was written under the mentorship of Kaarle Krohn, the central figure of the Finnish or historical-geographical school, where the hunt for arche- types, age, place of origin and migratory ways was central. In the late 1910s and early 1920s, Christiansen was in regular correspondence with Krohn.19 The influence from Krohn is evident also in his next treatise, The Tale of the Two Travellers or the Blinded Man: A Comparative Study (1919). Here too roughly half of the material is Finnish. His conclusion is that this fairytale must have come from India and that the migration must have taken place partly as oral tradition – westwards via Slavonic area, and partly in written forms – via southern Europe. He states that its arrival in Europe must probably have taken place before 1300 and that the oral and the written traditions must have melted together and exchanged elements. This monograph served as a model for other historical-geographical studies, and he combined this work with studies of different types that paved the way for his index of fairytales (above). Several later studies treat the migratory ways of tales and legends to and from Norway and the Nordic area. Comparative and diffusionist research of this type represented the normal state of scholarship in the period between the wars and just after, and Chris- tiansen was at the cutting edge of this research. His investigations treat the itineraries of fairytales and some types of legends, and he showed how the bulk of Norwegian tales were imported from the European continent via Denmark. There is some Swedish-Finnish influence in the eastern land- 104 Bjarne Rogan

Stith Thompson and Reidar Th. Christiansen. Location and time unknown. Photo belonging to Elin Christian- sen Smit. scapes, while coastal Norway, especially in the north, had more differentiated material that arrived by sea. One of Christiansen’s best-known studies of migration is on the legend “Kjætten paa Dovre” (The Beast in the Dovre Mountains, 1922b). In a classic geographical-historical spirit he tracked the origin of the legend to Den- mark and the fourteenth century, and he maintained that it had spread north- wards to Norway. In a later study his colleague Professor Knut Liestøl, who at that time had been called to the government and appointed Minister of Cultural Affairs, made a counter-attack. With the same method and in the same historical-geographical vein he examined a more comprehensive material and came to the opposite conclusion, namely, that the legend had originated in Norway and spread southwards. It is hardly possible to determine who was right, as both relied upon a method that posterity has discarded as An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 105 scientifically untenable. However, this scholarly controversy illustrates well their different outlooks, that is Christiansen’s international perspective and Liestøl’s national orientation, and not least the latter’s political use of the discipline for nationalist politics (Hodne 2002). No less interesting is the fact that when Christiansen returned to this legend in 1946, he had developed a quite different and much more modern perspective (see the above paragraph). When Christiansen was assessed for the chair in 1951, the committee stressed his comparative research. They underscored his exceptional assets for studying diffusion and cultural encounters, notably his competence in no less than three adjacent but markedly different linguistic and culture areas: the Celtic to the west, the Scandinavian, and the Finno-Ugrian to the east. Legends were the basic material for Christiansen’s first monograph on the contacts across the North Sea: The Vikings and the Viking Wars […] (1931, see above). In this major study (429 p.) the influence of historical- geographical thinking is still present, but at the same time it is marked by a development that becomes more and more visible in his later investigations on legends. This is very clear if we compare his earliest texts with later ones. In 1924 he published the article “Bidrag til spørsmaalet om berøringen mellem keltisk og nordisk tradition” (A contribution to the interrelation between Celtic and Nordic traditions). His discussion of motif elements is detailed, erudite but tedious, and the only conclusion seems to be that the legend circles are based on “a combination of motifs from many places” (p. 64). Nearly 30 years later he published an article on the same topic: “Til spørsmålet om forholdet mellom irsk og norsk tradisjon” (On the issue of the interrelation between Irish and Norwegian Tradition, 1953b). He compares the Irish heroic poetry, where the Norse arch-enemy holds a central position, to the Norse sagas, and concludes that influence from the rich Irish heritage seems non-existent – contrary to what has often been claimed. Christiansen here takes a critical stance against the rather oversimplified position of older scholars like Sophus Bugge and Alexander Bugge, and he shows a humble attitude in the face of an extremely complex source situation around this cultural encounter. The approach is different and the issues he raises are how the two groups conceived each other, how they socialized and what they learnt from each other. Even further away from the historical-geographical method is “Nordsjø- sagn” (1958b), a study of “mythic” legends about the little people in the countries around the North Sea. Christiansen abstains completely from searching for the origin of the legends, their historical basis or migratory ways. Instead he wants to explore what he calls “the contribution of traditions to the legends”. He documents basic similarities in the belief in goblins, trolls and wood nymphs all around the North Sea, but he also finds that common motifs change with regard to both form and contents in different milieus. His focus 106 Bjarne Rogan is now on these processes and changing perceptions. The necessity of combin- ing a comparative approach with geographical (“oeko-types”) and social factors, and not least with a study of the individual storyteller, is explicitly discussed in “A Folklorist’s Plea for Co-operation” (1955). The 1950s mark a changed position in his fairytale research as well. In 1951 Anna Birgitta Rooth, von Sydow’s student, defended her thesis on the Cinderella cycle, and Christiansen was called in as opponent. Rooth’s thesis was in many ways a classic diffusionist study investigating the complex interrelation and itineraries of at least five different types of tales that together form the so-called Cinderella cycle. Christiansen gave a somewhat reserved assessment (1953d). With his broad knowledge of this enormous material and his specialist competence on diffusionist research, it was an easy task for him to point to lots of lacunas, in the form of variants missing and even whole geographical areas that were omitted or ignored; the rich Sami and Iberian material was missing, the interrelation between variants in Britain, in Ireland, in Norway, etc. was not satisfactorily analysed, etc. From the point of view of traditional (Finnish school) fairytale research, a much more reliable picture of distribution would have been required. However, Chris- tiansen acknowledged that Rooth’s technical-logical discussion – on the “types-motifs”, “motif-complexes” and “tradition areas” – surpassed a mechanical, historical-geographical reconstruction of the origin and itineraries of the tale, and he appreciated her efforts to bring in additional cultural and milieu factors. His main critique, however, was that she did not go further in this direction, that her “purely logical argumentation about the development of the different types had not been sufficiently accompanied by historical-ethnological observations” (p. 157) – that is, for all the individual variants “to take into consideration the people who created them and their conditions of life” (p. 148). But he was pleased with Roth’s new twist on a classic diffusionist study. As he wrote afterwards to Ó Duilearga: “it proved on nearer acquaintance to be a good book – important […] It is great fun to watch the changing ways of folktale studies. They treat it as ‘botany’, picking tales as flowers anywhere, comparing petals etc., etc. They have imitated arithmetics [sic], vers. A 60% – vers. B 40 – etc. etc., and this particular study seems to be like chemistry – Type A + Type B = Type AB. She has followed the lead of von Sydow – with a sound corrective in the ethnological background of her ‘types’.”20 In his own fairytale research he would depart even further from the traditional paradigm. His investigation into Celtic-Nordic relations reached a ze- nith with the monograph Studies in Irish and Scandinavian Folktales (1959). Christiansen’s main preoccupation is whether spectacular parallels in the details and the motifs of the tales can be attributed to reciprocal influence during the four centuries the Celts and the Norsemen lived side by side. His main conclusion is very much the same as it was for the legends – that An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 107 the many similarities are not due to contact back in time, but rather point to a common origin. In its comparative methodology this study marked a clear distance to the historical-geographical method. Warren E. Roberts (1961) expressed his enthusiasm for Christiansen’s new and modern approach to folktale research. The focus on milieu and influence appears just as strongly in the monograph Folklore in America (1962). The text offers an overview of what has survived of European folklore on the other side of the Atlantic and the transformations that tales, legends and beliefs have undergone in their new settings. The author’s preoccupation is context and adaptation, and he has definitively left the historical-geographical method behind. The book was well received by American folklorists, who were thus presented with a perspective from the outside of an important part of their own folklore. “Ame- rican folklorists are deeply grateful,” Warren E. Roberts wrote in his positive book review (1963:63). The following year saw the appearance of his great catalogue opus, The Types of the Irish Folktale (1963), which closed the circle from his early catalogues (1921, 1922). This work should not be confused with his early historical-geographical approach. Classification of types and variants was essential to the migration studies, but it is also a useful tool for other types of investigations, a fact that today’s folklorists acknowledge. Christiansen’s last article, published post mortem in Lochlann (1974) – “Midwife to the hidden people: A migratory legend as told from Ireland to Kurdistan” – may stand as a symbol of his scholarship. It demonstrates his international outlook, from Ireland to Kurdistan, via England, Iceland, Nor- way and the Sami area, Hungary and Iraq. The topic is the one that was closest to his mind in his last years, the representations of the underworld people, and the text shows his change of perspective. Or as he stresses in the introduction: There are two schools of fairytale and legend research. One is preoccupied with charting the itineraries of the tales, the other with studying what happens with them under way, what changes from country to country, and what are the reasons for these changes; what is important is the storytellers and their interpretations (p. 105). It is the latter school he adheres to from the 1950s, if not even earlier.

Ireland – a Lifelong Adventure In the autumn of 1919 Christiansen went to Ireland and stayed there for one year, as member of a research team studying the Nordic heritage in the British Isles – a project financed by the recently established Statens Viden- skabelige Forskningsfond. His own research object was the interrelation between Irish and Nordic traditions, which he later described as his true research field (1928). In the summers of 1921 and 1922 he went back to Ire- 108 Bjarne Rogan

Séan Ó Súilleabháin and Reidar Th. Christiansen. Location and time unknown. Photo belonging to Elin Christiansen Smit. land, to the Hebrides and northern Scotland, and again the winter of 1923– 24 and the summer of 1927. Irish popular culture was an interest he would come to share with C. W. von Sydow and Åke Campbell (Bringéus 2006; 2008). It was Christiansen who “opened” Ireland to von Sydow in 1920, helping him with contacts and informants, and it was he who introduced him to the young Irish student of folklore Séamus Ó Duilearga (James Hamilton Delargy) in 1927. Christiansen made repeated visits to the Celtic area in the 1930s, 1940s and 1950s, and in 1954 he was awarded the degree of honorary doctor at University College Dublin. During one year (1957–58) he joined the staff of the Irish Folklore Commission, working on the Irish fairytale catalogue with Seán Ó Súilleabháin. Carl Marstrander, who had been his Irish teacher in Oslo and who had helped him organize his first sojourn in Ireland, had been a central agent in the founding of Ireland’s first folklore society in 1911, a society that did not survive the risings in the following years (Briody 2011). Christiansen came to play an important role, but more indirectly, for the establishment of other institutions, such as the Folklore of Ireland Society (1927–), the Irish Folk- lore Institute (1930–34) and the Irish Folklore Commission (1935–71), as An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 109 well as the journal Béaloideas (1927–). When the latter journal celebrated its 25th year, in 1952, Christiansen wrote to its editor Séamus Ó Duilearga that it was the only periodical he had in his study. To which he added immediately: “That is used, full of notes and references.”21 Both the institute and the commission were led by Ó Duilearga, who was a great organizer, collector and archivist, but to a lesser degree a researcher (Briody 2011). Christiansen had incidentally met Ó Duilearga in Dublin in 1921, when the latter studied Irish. According to Ó Duilearga this encounter had great consequences not only for himself, but also for Irish language and folklore (1973:345). The encounter made the student of philology see folklore in a different light, just as Christiansen’s activities contributed to a broader interest in folklore and paved the way for collecting and an archive. Also important were Christiansen’s three articles in the periodical The Irish Statesman and his two public lectures in Dublin some years later (1937).22 The establishment of the famous commission (archive) in Dublin in 1935 was a difficult process, both politically and economically. While von Sydow pushed and urged publicly for the archive, the role of Christiansen was more that of an inspirer: von Sydow knocked on the doors of the Irish politicians and lobbied as best he could, while Christiansen gave advice in the background. Notwithstanding his love for the country, a gentle and unassuming person like Christiansen – quite unlike von Sydow – can hardly have felt comfortable with the situation in Ireland in those years. Engaging in the politics of language and culture issues was not an innocent activity. Sinn Féin had been founded in the wake of the Easter Rising (1916), and from 1919 – the year Christiansen arrived in Ireland – the IRA fought against British troops in the War of Independence. The island was divided into two parts – the Irish Free State (1922–37) and Ulster – and a civil war raged (1922– 23). During the 1920s and 1930s there was an intense political tug-of-war between those who argued for the collecting and the scholarly study of Irish popular culture as a goal in itself, and on the other hand those who fought for the Irish language and considered the folklore stuff only as a tool in the identity politics of language. The latter were indifferent or even hostile to folklore as an international research discipline and opposed a university affiliation. This fight went on even within the folklore organizations (Briody 2011). In his active years in the 1950s, when university duties kept him mostly in Oslo, but even in the late 1960s, when health problems – whether his own or his wife’s – kept him at home, Christiansen expressed in letter upon letter how much he longed to get back to Ireland. What were the pull factors? Tra- ditional popular culture thrived better in Ireland and had maintained its independence of Latin medievalism better than many other north European 110 Bjarne Rogan cultures, due to the island’s geographical position and its linguistic situation, and also to its long colonial status, the primacy of primary industries like agriculture and fisheries, and even its poverty. For a folklorist with comparison in his veins the island was evidently attractive. Whatever the reasons in his younger days, a magnet in later years was the traditions about the little people. Or as he wrote to Seán Ó Súilleabháin in December 1964, when had returned from the year in Leeds – the last sojourn abroad in his life – but still hoping for another one in Ireland, even if he admitted to being “dependent on the crutch and the stick”:23 I am really busy with “the little people”, and have about finished a kind of draft. The difficulty is to know how much of the materials to use. The pain is to have a kind of preface, stating that I do not intend to give reviews of all the theories proposed. It has been done in a number of books, as you know. My point of view is that the question is wrongly put. You cannot possibly find out what they “were”, like some extinct species of animals and plants. They are creatures of belief and imagination. The next I thought it right to start with the traditional national group where the evidence is by far the greatest, the Irish tradition, and try to present the evidence, nearly after the classification you gave me. “Things Irish” and his Irish friends and colleagues meant very much to Christiansen. A dilemma for him, however, was the delicate balance between nationalism, which was a strong motive force behind the collecting movement in Ireland, and folklore as an international scholarly discipline. He returned to this dilemma time and again, albeit in a discreet manner, in lectures and articles. He warned against nationalism, but he knew all too well that strong forces, all the way up to President Éamon de Valera himself and most of his ministers, were working for a nationalist linguistic revival and opposed folklore as a university discipline (Briody 2011).

From Acta to CIAP – International Endeavours and Compli- cations The lack of an international journal for ethnology and folklore was a recurrent theme when scholars met in the interwar years. In the mid 1930s Chris- tiansen was engaged in the founding of Acta Ethnologica. The journal (1936–38) primarily covered the Finno-Scandinavian and Baltic area. It was the younger generation of scholars who had launched the journal, and Gun- nar Granberg, Swedish folklorist and specialist on Finnish culture, was its editor. Christiansen held a central position in the planning and as an editorial board member (Rogan 2008a), and his contribution to the first volume was an article on “A Finnish Fairy-Tale in Norway”. However, seniors like Sigurd Erixon and C. W. von Sydow wanted broader European-American cooperation, and not least to bring in the hegemonic folklorist milieu of the day – the Germans – and Christiansen joined them in the further endeavours towards an internationalization of An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 111

Reidar Th. Christiansen and Gösta Berg. Location and time unknown. Photo (cut) belonging to Elin Christian- sen Smit

the discipline. A new journal – Folk (1937) – was started in Berlin, and Christiansen contributed to the first issue with the article “Norwegian folklore-research through 25 years”. At the same time a new society was established: the International Association for European Ethnology and Folklore (IAEEF). But the German efforts to Nazify both the journal and the society made further cooperation very difficult. Its main architect Erixon backed out, and with the outbreak of the war everything came to a stop (Rogan 2008a). Christiansen joined instead the editorial board of another international journal that Erixon had recently launched, Folk-Liv (1937–). After the war Christiansen became the foremost Norwegian representative of ethnology and folklore on the international scene. In 1954 he was elected president of the Commission Internationale des Arts et Traditions Populaires (CIAP). Erixon had been the motive power behind the reorgan- ization of CIAP in the early 1950s, but he did not want to lead it formally. However, he wanted the control of the organization in Nordic hands, so he proposed Christiansen for president. One of the reasons for Erixon’s choice was undoubtedly that Christiansen was an internationally acknow- 112 Bjarne Rogan ledged scholar and a folklorist with both an international orientation and a positive attitude to his dream of a unified discipline – European ethnology, which embraced both ethnology and folklore. Erixon had his way with regard to the election, and Christiansen remained president of CIAP for 10 years (1954–64) – that is, formally; de facto it was the board member Erixon who led the organization. Comprehensive correspondence between Christiansen, Erixon and the secretary Hans Nettelblad gives a thorough documentation of the complicated inner life of CIAP in these years (Rogan 2008b). It was a weak organization and a very difficult task that Christiansen took on in 1954. He had a flying start with the successful congress in Arn- hem/Amsterdam in 1955 (Rogan 2011), where Christiansen gave a paper on the relationship between folklore and fiction (1956). However, for both economic and discipline-related reasons a downward trend began not long afterwards. Christiansen soon lost interest in the organization, which formally was under the auspices of UNESCO. CIAP’s economy was miserable and UNESCO supported only some of its individual projects, such as the In- ternationale Volkskundliche Bibliographie and the journal Laos. Reunions and congresses were cancelled, and the opposition from European folklorists to seeing the whole field as one unified and major discipline grew steadily, until the break in 1964 when CIAP was dissolved and resurrected as SIEF – la Société Internationale d’Ethnologie et de Folklore (Rogan 2008c). Christiansen expressed time and again in his letters to Erixon how tired he was of the “cursed” CIAP and how much he longed to get away from his presidential honours. But instead of resigning he gave Erixon free hands with CIAP. In 1964 in Athens the old Board was dismissed. Probably no one was happier than Christiansen! The responsibility for this state of affairs in CIAP was not Christian- sen’s alone. Admittedly he was no great administrator, but as a pensioner from 1956 he had few if any resources to do the job. But certainly more important was his intense preoccupation with his own research. The low priority given to organization work in an international bureaucracy – as CIAP was part of – must be weighed against his rich and many-faceted research activities and his prolonged visits to the US, Ireland and England in these years.

Across Borders and Disciplines It was a mature researcher who in 1952 gave his inaugural lecture as professor, entitled “Folkeminne og folkeminneforskning” (Folklore and folkloristics, 1953c). The three main themes may be resumed as follows: the insistence on new perspectives, the downplaying of disciplinary borders, and the international character of the discipline. With regard to fairytales especially, An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 113 but with relevance to all sorts of folkloristic material – Christiansen explains why the older migration studies had necessarily come to a dead end, con- fronted with an almost indefinite number of variants, Instead he argues for the study of “the interior life of the tales, their rise and fall, and perhaps even more of the individual narrators, their intentions and their narrative techniques, within the narrow framing that the tradition allowed, or in other words: to understand them as artists” (pp. 15–16). He refutes the possibility of demonstrating genuinely Norwegian traits in the material, and the consequence to him is that research must cross borders; the subject is preponder- antly transnational. At the same time he refuses to define what is folklore and claims that topics like popular belief, customs and usage lead into the field of ethnology. His conclusion is unambiguous: “That is why folklore and ethnology are but two ways of seeing the same phenomenon, the old traditional popular culture” (p. 29). And to him the distance from the study of popular belief to comparative religion was short. An inaugural lecture has the character of a normative discourse, a programme for the future. The same arguments reappear several times in the 1950s, in printed texts as well as in unprinted lectures. In “A Folklorist’s Plea for Co-operation”, printed in the CIAP journal Laos (1955b), he stresses that even if folklore and ethnology have to work with different methods, defined by the material, he himself had “been trying to visualize the vast field of these studies as a unity” (p. 15) – an argument that the editor Sigurd Erixon certainly applauded. Referring to the debates at Stith Thompson’s Midcentury Folklore Con- ference in Indiana (1950) and the CIAP Arnhem congress (1955) he returned several times in his lectures in the 1950s to the relationship between the disciplines and the need for cooperation, and the need to see “the whole field of traditional folk-life as a unity”, and he warned against the “conscientious watchdogs guarding their own domains to keep trespassers away” (Dublin, 1957).24 He had encountered too many such watchdogs – he repeats the expression several times – in CIAP and in other places. Even though he had no success in his mission for CIAP, he bore all through his career a genuine hope for cooperation, across disciplines and across borders.

The Letter Writer Christiansen had a capacity to knit close friendships with colleagues and he was an untiring letter writer. The archives contain a large number of letters, from his early correspondence with scholars like Kaarle Krohn, C. W. von Sydow and others, to his epistolary exchanges in later years, mostly with his Irish and American colleagues.25 His letters contain a blend of professional issues and personal information. He was often talkative on subjects like his 114 Bjarne Rogan travels, where he went and whom he met, his impressions of places visited, of institutes, archives and campuses, about his family, especially the children, and about his own and his wife Karin’s health situation in later years. The letters often contain mention of colleagues he had met on travels or congresses, descriptions that are never condescending or slandering, but not infrequently with keen observations and amusing twists; “There were [sic] from Sweden our good Åke C., a bit ponderous as usual, but with that curi- ous, almost infecting interest in roofs and fireplaces and his plans and slides”; How could one expect that “S. Erixon could have his say in [only] 5 minutes?”; Otto Anderson “who always wanted to stay up at night, even past midnight” when Christiansen longed for his bed; Stith Thompson, who toured the world lecturing, was “a rather poor lecturer” who “tries to ‘talk’, without notes and preparation, and does not seem to be able to get the right flow into it, but what he says is clear and sensible”. From time to time we get glimpses of difficult situations, as when he ended up in the midst of a “violent conflict” between Helsinki and Turku (Åbo), partly between Swedes and Finns, in the mid 1950s, or when he had to work in the midst of the tensions in the staff at the Commission in Dublin. Discreet as he was, however, he does not disclose names or details of these conflicts. During 40 years Christiansen kept up contacts with von Sydow. There is a sad tone in his reminiscence of the last time he saw him, in Lund in the spring of 1951. As he wrote to Ó Duilearga:26 He was too weak to go to the disputation [of his former student A. B. Rooth] – but after all not so very much changed. He seemed in a way to have progressed one or two stages on the inescapable road, the main change was that he was physically weaker, had to be helped going downstairs – Greta is a splendid lady […] I stayed there for several hours, and he liked to chat, remembered the Norwegian friends, talked about you, etc. Some more people turned up, and then he was left out – but looking on – from a distance, with a kind of benignity that was touching. It is a pity – he had still very much to do. In the library I saw a thing that touched me. He had written out Swedish translations of all your small Irish books – patiently, page by page, put them in envelopes, etc. It must have taken uncounted hours to do it. It is not bad to grow older, if you keep active. A year later von Sydow passed away, and Christiansen recollected his early impression of his old friend to Ó Duilearga:27 It was not possible to go to Lund for poor von Sydow’s funeral, we had only to send flowers. Strange how one writes “poor” with his name. One would rather retain the impression he gave during his first, fighting years somewhere around 1914. He was like a mighty bull charging into everybody, philologists, antiquarians etc., and at the same time friendly, eager to help, and full of energy, in a strange way. I remember a congress in Bergen [Berlin ?], back before 1920. I shared a room with him, and remember how he was sitting up in bed at 5 or 6 in the morning reading and memoriz- ing Irish. An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 115 Summing Up His work on collections, registers and scientific catalogues alone could have been the work of a lifetime. But his scholarly activities went far beyond catalogues and classification. He was Norway’s foremost researcher of fairytales and legends, but his scholarly contributions embraced all the contemporary thematic fields of folklore studies. His academic qualifications even stretched far into other disciplines, as testified by his university teaching in comparative religion, Finnish and Sami. His research career stretches from around 1910 almost to 1970 and consequently spans paradigmatic shifts in culture research. Diffusionism, with its historical-geographical (Finnish) method, represented the normal state of scholarship in folklore studies during the first half of his career. This method he mastered so well that internationally he was regarded as the foremost representative of Norwegian fairytale and legend research. But he never got stuck in this paradigm (as later generations tend to think). In the early 1950s he actually dismissed the method as untenable. He kept his position at the cutting edge of research, both arguing for and practising new methods and perspectives. His research in later years was acknowledged even abroad – or perhaps especially abroad. His exceptional language skills gave him great advantages, with regard to both comparative research and fieldwork in such different cultural areas as the Finno-Ugrian and the Celtic. His attachment to Ireland was almost without limits. He was happy in Dublin even on grey and misty days, just as he loved the picturesque landscapes of the west coast on summer days. His letters to his Irish friends in the late 1960s, when he could no longer travel, bear witnesses to an everlasting love for things Irish. In addition, both Scandina- via and the North Sea region were his homeland. Linguistic proficiency and comparative research, as well as the conviction that folklore and ethnology were one and the same discipline, paved his way for participation in international scholarly cooperation. What he did not manage on the administrative and organizational level internationally, he compensated with success on the scholarly level. When seen from a Norwegian point of view, Reidar Th. Christiansen was our twentieth-century internationalist in a double sense. His research topics aimed far beyond the country’s borders. Outside these borders he was acknowledged as an ambassador of Norwegian folklore for a generation and a half. Last but not least, he was modest in words and in appearance, in a setting dominated by much more strident cultural historians. His reserved manner, on top of his anti-nationalist attitude, may very well have contributed to his rather anonymous position in posterity. As a pensioner Christiansen once wrote to Ó Duilearga about how happy he was, as a person “officially shelved by old age”, to come to Dublin to go on doing the work he knew, instead of being expected “to sit down at your 116 Bjarne Rogan table and write your reminiscences, a thing […] I would never feel tempted to do.”28 It is a pity that de did not do both!

Bjarne Rogan, dr. philos.. Professor of Cultural History Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages University of Oslo P.O.Box 1010, Blindern NO-0315 Oslo Norway e-mail: [email protected]

References Alver, Brynjulf 1974: Reidar Thoralf Christiansen. In memoriam. Lochlann. A Re- view of Celtic Studies Vol. VI, pp. 182–86. Bringéus, Nils-Arvid 2006: Carl Wilhelm von Sydow som folklorist. Uppsala: Kungl. Gustav Adolfs Akademien för svensk folkkultur. Bringéus, Nils-Arvid 2008: Åke Campbell som etnolog. Uppsala: Kungl. Gustav Adolfs Akademien för svensk folkkultur. Briody, Micheál 2011: La mission de Séamus Ó Duilearga. Sauvegarder le folklore de l’Irlande. Ethnologie Française XLI, 2011/2, pp. 219–228. Catháin, Séamas Ó 2008: Formation of a Folklorist. Sources relating to the visit of James Hamilton Delargy (Séamus Ó Duilearga) to Scandinavia, Finland, Esto- nia and Germany 1 April – 29 September 1928. Dublin: The Folklore of Ireland Council. Christiansen, Reidar Thoralf 1928: [Christiansen, Reidar Thoralf], in Studentene fra 1903. Oplysninger samlet til 25-års-jubileet 1928. Oslo 1928, pp. 64–65. [Edvardsen, Erik Henning:] Reidar Th. Christiansen. http:/wikipedia.org/wiki/ Reidar_Th._Christiansen. Accessed 19 June 2011. Hodne, Bjarne 2002: Sagnforskning – historien om tre fortellinger. Sagnomsust. Fortelling og virkelighet, ed. Arne Bugge Amundsen, Bjarne Hodne & Ane Ohr- vik, pp. 60–81. Oslo: Novus forlag. Kverndokk, Kyrre (2013/in press): Norsk Folkeminnesamling. Etnologi og folk- loristikk. En fagkritisk biografi om norsk kulturhistorie, ed. Bjarne Rogan and Anne Eriksen, Oslo: Novus forlag. Kyllingstad, Jon Røyne 2008: “Menneskeåndens universalitet”. Instituttet for sammenlignende kulturforskning 1917–1940. Doktorgradsavhandling, UiO (Online version: http://www.duo.uio.no). Liestøl, Knut 1933: Kjetta på Dovre. Til spursmålet um pilegrimsvegar og segn- vandring. Maal og Minne, pp. 24–28. Roberts, Warren E. 1961: Reidar Th, Christiansen: Studies in Irish and Scandinavian Folktales. Reviewed by Warren E. Roberts. Norveg vol. 8, pp. 347–49. Roberts, Warren E. 1963: Reidar Th, Christiansen: European Folklore in America. Reviewed by Warren E. Roberts. Norveg vol. 10, pp. 136–37. Rogan, Bjarne 2008a: From Rivals to Partners on the Inter-War European Scene. Si- gurd Erixon, Georges Henri Rivière and the International Debate on European Eth- nology in the 1930s. Arv. Nordic Yearbook of Folklore 2008, vol. 64, pp. 61–100. An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 117 Rogan, Bjarne 2008b: From CIAP to SIEF. Visions for a Discipline or Power Struggle? Everyday Culture in Europe. Approaches and Methodologies, ed. Máiréad Nic Craith, Ulrich Kockel & Reinhard Johler, pp. 19–63. Aldershot: Ashgate. Rogan, Bjarne 2008c: The Troubled Past of European Ethnology. SIEF and Interna- tional Cooperation from Prague to Derry. Ethnologia Europaea 2008, vol. 38(1), pp. 66–78. Rogan, Bjarne 2011: A Remarkable Congress and a Beloved General Secretary. http://siefhome.org/images/PDF/inaugural_add_sief2011.pdf. Thompson, Stith 1946: The Folktale. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Thompson, Stith 1996: A Folklorist’s Progress. Reflections of a Scholar’s Life. Spe- cial Publications of the Folklore Institute No. 5. Indiana: University of Bloom- ington. Tuneld, John 1978: Reidar Christiansen. Bibliografi. Kungl. Gustav Adolfs Akade- miens Minnesbok 1957–1972. Uppsala, pp. 283–318. Obituaries used but not quoted Bø, Olav 1973: Minnetale over professor, dr. Philos. Reidar Th. Christiansen. Det norske videnskaps-akademi, Årbok 1972, pp. 76–82. Duilearga, Séamus Ó 1973: A Personal Tribute. Reidar Thorolf Christiansen. Béa- loideas. The Journal of the Folklore of Ireland Society, XXXVII–XXXVIII [1970–71], pp. 345–50 Grambo, Ronald 1972: Reidar Th. Christiansen (1886–1971). Fabula. Zeitschrift für Erzählforschung 13. Band, Heft 1–2, pp. 181–82. Kvideland, Reimund 1971: Reidar Thorolf [sic] Christiansen 1886–1971. Tradisjon. Tidsskrift for folkeminnevitenskap 1, pp. 95–96. Quoted publications by Christiansen 1910. Die Schwalbe. Eine Märchenstudie. Finnisch-ugrische Forschungen 10, pp. 127–153. 1914. Die finnischen und nordischen Varianten des Zweiten Merseburgerspruches. Eine vergleichende Studie. Hamina. FFCommunications 18. 1917. Veiledning ved indsamling av folkeminder (Fra Norsk folkemindesamling I). Maal og Minne 1917, pp. 113–36. 1919. The Tale of the two Travellers or the Blinded Man. A Comparative Study. Ha- mina. FFCommunications 24. 1921. Norske eventyr. En systematisk fortegnelse efter trykte og utrykte kilder. Kris- tiania. 1922. The Norwegian Fairytales. A Short Summary. Helsinki. FFCommunications 46. 1922b. Kjætten paa Dovre. Et bidrag til studiet av norske sagn. Kristiania: Viden- skabsselskabet. 19245. Bidrag til spørsmaalet om berøringen mellem keltisk og nordisk tradition. Maal og minne, pp. 49–64. 1925. Norske folkeminne. En veiledning for samlere og interesserte. Oslo. Norsk folkeminnelag 12. 1929. Waltari, Mika. Den store illusjonen. Translated by Reidar Th. Christiansen. Oslo. 1931. The Vikings and the Viking Wars in Irish and Gaelic Tradition. Oslo: Det Norske Videnskapsakademi. 1935. Til de norske sjøvetters historie. Vandring og stedegent. Maal og minne, pp. 1–25. 118 Bjarne Rogan 1936. A Finnish Fairy-tale in Norway. Acta Ethnologica 1, pp. 7–18. 1937. Norwegian folklore-research through 25 years. Folk 1, pp. 80–92. 1938. Norske sagn. Ed. R. Th. Christiansen. Oslo. 1939. Waltari, Mika. En fremmed kom til gården. Translated by Arnulf Øverland & Reidar Th. Christiansen. Oslo. 1939b. Gaelic and Norse folklore. Folk-Liv 2 (1938), pp. 321–335. 1941. Sagnstudier. Maal og minne, pp.115–141. 1943. Gårdvette og markavette. Maal og minne, pp. 137–160. 1946. Eventyr og sagn. Oslo: Olaf Norlis forlag. 1946b. The Dead and the Living. Oslo. Studia Norvegica Vol. 1, 2. 1947. Ekstase og religion hos arktiske folk. Oslo. Etnologisk samfunn, skrifter 2. 1952. Fra gamle dager. Folkeminner i Land. Boka om Land, utg. v. Oluf Kolsrud og R. Th. Christiansen, b. 2, pp. 127–336. 1953. Ecstasy and Arctic Religion. Studia Septentrionalia 4, pp. 19–92. 1953b. Til spørsmålet om forholdet mellom irsk og norsk tradisjon. Arv 8 (1952), pp. 1–40. 1953c. Folkeminne og folkeminneforskning. Tiltredelsesforelesning 22. September 1952. Fra universitets talerstol. Utg. av universitetet i Oslo. Oslo. 1953d. Bokmelding av Anna Birgitta Rooth: The Cinderella Cycle. Lund 1951. Arv 8 (1952), pp. 147–59. 1955. Bokmelding av Olav Bø: Heilag Olav i norsk folketradisjon. Norveg 5 (1955), pp. 217–221. 1955b. A Folklorist’s Plea for Co-operation. Laos vol. 3, pp. 9–17. 1956. The Products of Folklore in the Field of Literary History. Actes du congrès international d’etnologie régionale. Arnhem 1955, pp. 108–115. 1958. The Migratory Legends. A Proposed List of Types with a Systematic Cata- logue of the Norwegian Variants. Helsinki. FFCommunications 175. 1958b. Nordsjøsagn. Arv 13 (1957), pp. 1–19. 1959. Studies in Irish and Scandinavian Folktales. Copenhagen. 1962. European Folklore in America. Studia Norvegica 12. Oslo. 1963. The Types of the Irish Folktale. (Together with Seán Ó Súilleabháin) Helsinki. FFCommunications 188. 1967. Norwegische Volksmärchen Hrsg. und übertragen von Klara Stroebe und Rei- dar Th. Christiansen. Düsseldorf. 1974. Midwife to the Hidden People. A Migratory Legend as Told from Ireland to Kurdistan. Lochlann. A Review of Celtic Studies Vol. VI, pp. 104–17. Unpublished sources The text is based on letters and other documents from: Universitetet i Oslo (UiO, HF-arkivet) Riksarkivet (Arkivet til UiO) Nasjonalbiblioteket i Oslo (NB, Håndskriftsamlingen) Nordiska museet (SE/Sigurd Erixons samlinger) University College Dublin (UCD, Delargy Centre for the Irish Folklore and the National Folklore Collection Meertens Institut, Amsterdam The Lilly Library, Indiana University Bloomington Private archive Elin Christiansen Smit (ECS) I am very grateful for information and assistance from Elin Christiansen Smit, Ørn- ulf Hodne, Erik Henning Edvardsen, Ronald Grambo, and Kyrre Kverndokk. An Internationalist among Norwegian Folklorists 119

1 See correspondence, Archive ECS. 2 There is some but not much correspondence with Olrik and Bolte (Archive, ECS). 3 Correspondence mainly in private archive (Archive ECS). 4 This part of his library is still kept intact by his daughter Elin Christiansen Smit. 5 Riksarkivet, Arkivet til UiO, Det hist.-fil. Fakultet, eske 52: Innstilling fra bedømmelsesko- mité, 28 April 1917. RA/S-3022/D/DA/L0052. 6 Letter of 11 December 1951 from Christiansen to Ó Duilearga. UCD Delargy Centre, file: Christiansen, Dr. R. Th., Homansveien 14, Norway. 7 HF-arkivet, UiO. Magasin 1 NT K29, reol 2, fag 3, hylle 1. Boks: Professorater/dosenturer. 8 Letters of 10 May 1957 from Seán Ó Súilleabháin to Christiansen and of 1 June 1957 from Christiansen to Ó Duilearga. UCD Delargy Centre, file: Dr. Christiansen. 9 Kyllingstad 2008:275; Kverndokk in press. 10 Letter of 17 December 1958 from Nyman to Christiansen, Archive ECS. 11 Letter of 11 March 1959 from Richmond to Christiansen, Archive ECS. 12 Letter of 30 January 1959 from Roberts to Christiansen, Archive ECS. 13 Letter of 16 April 1959 from Utley to Christiansen, Archive ECS. 14 The archivist Inger Christiansen worked for some years on a revised and enlarged card catalogue, which has been digitized and put online. See http://www.hf.uio.no/ikos/tjenester/kunn- skap/samlinger/norsk-folkeminnesamling/sagn/typer.html. 15 The total number is not known, but see Christiansen 1946 for a bibliography up to 1946. 16 Manuscript in NB: Ms4 3516 I E9. 17 The material is still kept by Elin Christiansen Smit, but will be transferred to the NB. 18 Letter of 10 October 1956 from Christiansen to Ó Duilearga. UCD Delargy Centre, file: Christiansen, Dr. R. Th., Homansveien 14, Norway. 19 Private archive ECS. 20 Letter of 14 April 1951 from Christiansen to Ó Duilearga. UCD Delargy Centre, file: Chris- tiansen, Dr. R. Th., Homansveien 14, Norway. 21 Ibid. 22 Reprinted in Ó Catháin 2008. 23 Letter of 21 December 1964. UCD Delargy Centre, file: Reidar Christiansen. The spelling in the quotation is slightly ameliorated. 24 NB, Ms4 3516 I A12. 25 The epistolary heritage from Christiansen is spread on many archives. Apart from his professional letters from Norsk Folkeminnearkiv and some correspondence on publishing issues, he did not make copies of his outgoing letters. He also had a tendency to leave things behind when he had sojourns abroad. A further problem is the difficulties of dating many of his letters: he always gave day and month, but very often not the year. 26 Letter of 14 April 1951 from Christiansen to Ó Duilearga. UCD Delargy Centre, file: Chris- tiansen, Dr. R. Th., Homansveien 14, Norway. 27 Letter of 27 April 1952, from Christiansen to Ó Duilearga. UCD Delargy Centre, file: Dr. Christiansen. 28 Letter of 1 June 1957, from Christiansen to Ó Duilearga, The Lilly Library (Correspondence). 120 Bjarne Rogan Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 121 Folkloristic Koinés and the Emergence of Swedish-American Ethnicity

B. Marcus Cederström

Quisling Terrace? In Madison, Wisconsin? I reacted more strongly than I expected. Having just returned to the United States after several years in Sweden, I was not prepared for the big block letters spelling out the name Quisling on the building to my right. But there it was – a Norwegian name that called to mind the betrayal of the Norwegian state by Vidkun Quisling to Nazi Germany during the Second World War. To most people in Madi- son, though, it was just another Norwegian immigrant name. It wasn’t my first surprise in the Upper Midwest, but maybe my most visceral. Since arriving, I had begun to notice little things – all of which reminded me of Scandinavia, but which were somehow different. Food and drink like lutfisk and egg coffee seemed to come up every time Scandinavian heritage was mentioned in casual conversation. I had never heard of egg coffee in Swe- den, let alone seen it, and lutfisk, while available, was eaten only occasionally. Then there were the Scandinavian family names, with minor spelling changes, on signs advertising the dentists, the real estate agents, the small business owners of the Midwest – all reminiscent of the name changes that occurred when many immigrants came to the United States. Even the high- way made promises of Scandinavia with billboards and signs advertising Danish windmills in Elk Horn, Iowa, or trolls on the Trollway of Mt. Horeb, Wisconsin. It was in that environment that I began my studies of Swedish identity in the United States, surrounded by vaguely familiar traces of Swe- dishness that reminded me of Sweden. Of the United States. Of something new. Swedish Americans and their forms of folklore have been studied by Swedes like Barbro Klein and Lizette Gradén, as well as Swedish Ameri- cans like H. Arnold Barton and Larry Danielson. Their contributions to the field have proven invaluable and it is through their work that I have realized my own distinct perspective. Despite my own family history, my move to the Upper Midwest was my first sustained experience with Swedish Ame- rica. I was born in Sweden to an American mother and a Swedish father and 122 B. Marcus Cederström lived in Sweden as a child, later returning as an adult for several years. How- ever, my family moved to Colorado when I was young and I spent the majority of my adolescence and completed my university education in the United States. Thus my experience with Swedes has been predominantly with Swedes in Sweden, but at the same time I have grown up in the United States surrounded by American culture. When I began my fieldwork with Swedish Americans, my role as both a Swede and an American allowed me to recognize various distinct aspects of the ethnic identity of the community. Many of the forms of folklore were recognizably Swedish, though different from the Swedish forms that I had grown accustomed to in Sweden. As my research continued, I realized that what differentiated the folklore of Swedes in the United States from Swedes in Sweden was the distinctly American aspect familiar to me due to my experiences in both countries. The forms of folklore that have emerged in the United States are recognizably Swedish; however, they have been influenced by the surrounding American community and must now be characterized as uniquely Swedish-American. In one uniquely Swedish-American community, a group devoted to Swedish heritage gathers at the Wagon Wheel Café in Chisago City, Min- nesota, every other Thursday. Some are recently retired and in their 50s, others have been retired for years and are in their late 80s and early 90s. A few grew up speaking Swedish, despite being second and third-generation Americans, and did not learn English until attending public school. They identify strongly with their Swedish heritage both linguistically and culturally. In December of 2010, together with Brandy Trygstad from the University of Wisconsin-Madison, I traveled to the Chisago County area on a research trip, which led to an invitation to the Wagon Wheel Café. As a linguist, Brandy was interested in the area’s Swedish dialects. As a folklorist raised in Sweden and the American West, I was interested in the community’s different forms of Swedish folklore. Since that initial trip, I have returned to the Chisago County area and traveled to other Swedish-American communities in the Upper Midwest to record Swedish-American stories in both Swedish and English.1 During that time, I found many forms of folklore that were familiar, some forms that felt familiar but had a decidedly unique characteristic, and some forms that were completely new to me. Yet, whether familiar or novel, all somehow conveyed a sense of Swedishness, or more ac- curately, Swedish Americanness. But how might the nature of Swedish- American folklore be discerned and explained? Just as the Swedish and American aspects of folklore intersect in the uniquely Swedish-American identities of the Upper Midwest, so too do the study of linguistics and folklore often intersect. Folklore studies and linguistics emerged at the same time, often intersecting in the work of scholars such as Jacob and Wilhelm Grimm, Franz Boas, Vladimir Propp, Dell Hymes, Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 123

A statue of Vilhelm Moberg and both an American and a Swedish flag bids visitors “välkom- men”, or welcome, to Chisago City, Minnesota. and Richard Bauman. Although this paper will not examine the full development of this interrelatedness, it is important to note a few major instances of intersection between folklore and linguistics, as there has been a shift in focus in the fields from individual words and origins to structure and then to performance. In the mid-nineteenth century, the Grimms began to preserve and maintain the words of the German Volk by recording oral tradition in the form of written folktales. This interest in the existence and origins of folktales was paralleled by Jacob’s prominence as a philologist and the brother’s work to complete a definitive German dictionary (Zipes 2002:10–23). In 1928, Vladimir Propp brought the study of folklore and linguistics together when he used structural models of syntax and analyzed the structure of narrative forms in Russian fairy tales to suggest a syntactic structure within the tales (1958). In the 1960s and 1970s, the interrelatedness of folklore and linguistics, specifically sociolinguistics, focused on the performance of speech and the ethnography of speaking (Hymes 1974; Bauman & Sherzer 1975; Bauman 1975). More recently, the intersection of folklore and linguistics has focused on these different elements of complex cultural contact – origins, generation of forms, and performance – through the cultural creolization process (Baron & Cara, Creolization [Special Issue] 2003). The transition from origins to structures and then to performances has been accompanied by a shift from models that emphasized stability, like the Grimms’ recording of the original stories of the Volk, to models emphasizing change, like creolization. These changes are further complicated when examining language and culture within the context of empires, wars, migrations, and other upheavals that affect the cultures, languages, and lives of in- 124 B. Marcus Cederström dividuals and groups. One such model that emphasizes change, creolization, was conceived of originally as an exclusively linguistic phenomenon and has been adapted for use by folklorists to explain the creation of unique forms of folklore, often during times of cultural upheaval. Creole cultures can emerge in response to a hierarchical power structure in which one group maintains control over another group, although creolization also results from an attempt to find common ways to communicate (Baron & Cara 2003: 4). However, creolization is a process that examines contact situations that are deemed to be mutually unintelligible – African, French, Native Ameri- can, and Spanish, for example, in the Creole culture of French Louisiana. While creolization is useful in explaining the emergence of fundamentally new cultures through contact, this paper will present a new framework that I call folkloristic koineization to examine immigrant ethnic identity, which emerges from contact situations that are defined as mutually intelligible and that result in a unique culture, but one that is not necessarily fundamentally new. This unique culture is an amalgamation of forms of folklore and practices which have been simplified in some cases, complicated in others, practiced, celebrated, and observed in somewhat different ways, all the while invested with meanings somewhat different than the original. What emerges is a unique culture and ethnicity that is often performed or celebrated with the involvement of various audiences, even participants who are cultural outsiders to the original culture. Below, I will present what I posit to be a folkloristic koiné which provides a framework to describe how unique identities are formed among immigrants and their descendants. To do so, it will be necessary to examine previous approaches to immigration and ethnic group formation, as well as to describe the history and development of linguistic koineization before presenting the principles of a folkloristic koiné. Throughout the paper, I will be drawing upon fieldwork conducted throughout the Upper Midwest to demonstrate a broader pattern of folkloristic koineization.

Approaches to Immigration and Ethnicity Formation It is generally accepted that immigrant community members take active roles in the creation and formation of identity through their use of language and folklore. Robert Klymasz clearly explains that in an immigrant community, folklore is in a “dynamic state of flux” and that the forms of folklore that disappear, that are retained, or that are newly created all suggest an ongoing process which immigrants use to adjust to the surrounding population and to mark their immigrant identity. This process suggests patterns in how ethnic folklore transitions from the Old World to the New World (Klymasz 1973:138). Marcus Lee Hansen suggests that these patterns play out differently for different generations of immigrants, explaining that the first gen- Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 125 eration will retain their Old World culture, the second generation will reject it, and the third generation will revive their grandparents’ culture (1938). As ethnic folklore develops from generation to generation, individual ethnic community members select certain displays of identity in contact situations with others. Stephen Stern writes that “elements of ethnic lore… are manifestations of the self that are expressed to meet the demands and concerns of the individual when interacting with others. Both positive and negative forces operate to attract and detract individuals from selecting particular identities and expressive forms” (1977:32). This process of ethnic folklore creation and the creativity involved suggests that individuals are active participants in the formation of ethnic folklore. While Klymasz and Stern introduced these ideas in the 1970s, it was Eric Hobsbawm who popularized the idea of “invented traditions” in 1983, thereby introducing this process to a range of scholars outside the community of folklore (1983:1). Steven Hoelscher expands on the creation of ethnic folklore to examine the construction of ethnic places and the construction (or reconstruction) process that New Glarus, Wisconsin, underwent as it became known as “America’s Little Switzerland” (1998:22). Similarly, Lizette Gradén argues that community members take active roles in the Swedishness that allows Lindsborg, Kansas, to bill itself as “Little Sweden, USA,” by consciously celebrating and displaying certain cultural markers of Swedishness and in doing so “implicitly claim that these should be remembered” (2003:12). Steven Schnell also writes about Lindsborg, Kansas, and argues that “[a]ll traditions are inventions, selective reworkings of the past. They are attempts to lend current practices the imprimatur of historical precedent and to provide continuity with a past, whether real or invented” (2003:8). These scholars, though, write almost exclusively about the identity choices and creation by white European immigrants. The selection process for non-white ethnicities is constrained in the United States due to la- tent racism (Waters 1990:147–168). This is especially true in regards to the four factors which Mary C. Waters identifies as influential in ethnic choice: “knowledge about ancestors, surname, looks, and the relative rankings of the groups” (1990:57). Thus, some communities are constrained in the ways in which they can exercise ethnic choice and ethnic identity creation due to a possible lack of definite knowledge of their ancestors or the perceived social rankings of their community. Despite ethnic choice only being accessible to certain ethnicities, there is still much to be gained from examining the process that different ethnic groups undergo when selecting their ethnic identity. Outward displays of ethnic identity manifest themselves in various ways through the stories told, the clothes worn, the foods eaten, and the holidays celebrated. Public displays of ethnic identity, such as the ones described by Hoelscher, Gradén, and Schnell act as a way to associate oneself with a spe- 126 B. Marcus Cederström

The local hardware store in Lindstrom, Minnesota, displays typically Swedish symbols such as the red Dalahäst, or Dala Horse. cific group. However, a public display of ethnic identity also suggests a conscious decision by members of a community to remember certain identifying aspects of their culture. These displays become a way of both shaping their role as ethnic Americans while also allowing others to identify them as such. Clearly, people within ethnic communities are forming their ethnic identities by selecting, constructing, and eventually establishing as tradition certain cultural expressions. Thus, what it means to identify as Swedish American is an evolving process and one that needs further examination and refinement. Many folklorists have worked to describe the process of cultural creation through creolization. In a special issue of The Journal of American Folklore, the editors Robert Baron and Ana C. Cara write that “[c]reolization is cultural creativity in process” (2003:4). The concept is a linguistic one that originated when discussing the fundamentally new languages which emerged when mutually unintelligible language communities came in contact with one another. Creolization is the process in which “children born into a society in which a pidgin is the only common vehicle of communication acquire that pidgin as a mother tongue and quickly elaborate its grammar and lexicon, producing a true natural language” (Trask 2000:77). This creolization process occurs due to community members having incomplete access to the full grammar of the original input languages. What forms is a fundamentally new language, a creole language. In the field of folklore, the term is used to explain new forms of folklore which emerge locally through extended contact; it is “new culture in the making” (Baron & Cara 2003:4). However, it is important to note that this Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 127 process is one that examines mutually unintelligible contact situations. Mu- tual intelligibility is difficult to define for linguists and folklorists alike. In- itial misunderstandings do not preclude mutual intelligibility. For example, while traveling in Ireland, Americans may find that the Irish accented Eng- lish can sometimes be difficult to understand. However, both languages are still English and are still mutually intelligible. What is required is a little extra effort, some accommodation, and the adjustment of your ear to the different dialect. Mutual intelligibility is a rough gauge which essentially looks at the differences between language or culture: the greater the difference, the less mutually intelligible is the language or culture. However, mutual intelligibility between languages and mutual intelligibility between cultures do not always mirror one another. While Swedish and English are not mutually intelligible from a linguistic standpoint, culturally, there are several aspects, foodways for example, which can easily be understood by both communities, therefore making them mutually intelligible. Creolization and creoles are the process and the end result in which fundamentally new languages or cultures emerge through contact between mutually unintelligible communities. By examining creolization in progress, it is possible to see how these cultures form. Nicholas Spitzer, in the same special issue of The Journal of American Folklore examines the French Loui- siana Creoles and points out that the new identity that has emerged is comprised of both language and forms of folklore and that “cultural creolization is the central process in the maintenance and evolution of culture and cultures globally” (2003:57). Spitzer also argues that creolization as a framework can be viewed as the fundamental process of cultural and folklore creation and that “all societies are creole to some degree” (2003:59). To claim that “all societies are creole to some degree” ignores the possibility of mutual intelligibility and an end result which, while possibly unique, is not necessarily fundamentally new. Not all language contact situations result in fundamentally new languages, nor do all cultural contact situations result in fundamentally new cultures, or creole cultures, thus making necessary a distinction between cultures which emerge as new as opposed to cultures which emerge as unique. It is for this very reason that folklorists must examine new ethnic identities and forms of folklore through cultural contact not just as a creole, but as a potential koiné. Creolization ignores the possibility of mutually intelligible languages, or for our purposes, cultures, coming together and resulting in a unique identity. Instead of all societies being creole to some degree, we must acknowledge the different processes at work in identity formation, not just the fundamentally new cultures which form from mutually unintelligible cultures in intense contact situations, but also the unique cultures which emerge when mutually intelligible cultures find themselves in intense contact situations. 128 B. Marcus Cederström A koiné, in contrast to a creole, is a reshaping of a language through contact with other languages that share a fundamental structure, making them mutually intelligible. The resulting koiné does, in fact, result in a unique language but not one that is fundamentally new. In order for the koiné to emerge, some accommodation and adjustment is required by the different community members. The same can be said for contact between mutually intelligible cultures resulting in unique cultures. In Swedish America, fundamental structures were brought over by Swedish immigrants to the United States, as Robert Ostergren points out when he argues that immigrants clung to their European roots in terms of “social relations and cultural identity” (1990:28). The identity that emerges then is not fundamentally new, but instead unique. Thus, we must use the koineization process to examine how a unique Swedish-American identity emerges from the original Swedish cultural structure. This distinction and the subsequent process of mutually intelligible cultures creating a unique identity is what I call folkloristic koineization.

Linguistic Koinés and Koineization Before presenting the framework of the folkloristic koiné, it is necessary to sketch the history of the term “koiné” from a linguistic framework. The term “koiné” comes from the Greek word for “common.” It was originally used in reference to the Greek language that emerged as a common language during the Hellenistic period (Siegel, 1985:358). Since then, the term has been used to describe a variety of contact situations in which new languages or dialects have developed. In 1985, Jeff Siegel collected the various definitions in use and brought structure to the idea of koinés and koineization. In doing so, Siegel defined two different forms of koinés, the first of which is regional; in this case, he argues that the language that emerges results from “contact between regional dialects of what is considered a single language. This type of koiné remains in the region where the contributing dialects are spoken,” although he does acknowledge that the language can be used as a trade language outside of the region (Siegel, 1985:363–364). Along with the regional koiné, Siegel defined the immigrant koiné. The immigrant koiné can also form through the contact of regional dialects. Siegel explains, though, that the main difference between the regional and immigrant koinés is the place in which the koiné develops. An immigrant koiné forms in a location separate from the origin of the different dialects – essentially, the community to which various dialect speakers immigrated. As the immigrant koiné forms, it often times takes the place of the different regional dialects as the primary language (Siegel, 1985:364). Joseph Sal- mons and Thomas Purnell expand upon Siegel’s initial ideas and point out that throughout the koineization process, it is possible that the language that Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 129 emerges maintains certain features from the dialects or languages that come into contact (2010:457). Koineization, then, is the process in which a regional or immigrant koiné forms. In a later article, Siegel defined koineization as “the linguistic processes that occur when different dialects or closely related subsystems come into contact” (1993:6). This definition built on the work of Peter Trudgill, who argued that the koineization process combined three different processes: mixing, leveling, and simplification (1986). Nearly twenty years later, Trudgill and Paul Kerswill reiterated this stance when they wrote that “[m]ixing, leveling, and simplification are the necessary precursors of new-dialect formation. Together, they can be said to constitute koineisation” (2005:199).2 In that same article, Kerswill and Trudgill went on to schematize Trudgill’s earlier suggestion that koiné formation follows a path of three generations (2005:200): Stage Speakers involved Linguistic characteristics I adult migrants (first generation) rudimentary leveling II first native-born speakers extreme variability and (second generation) further leveling III subsequent generations focusing, leveling, and reallocation Just as Hansen claimed that the generational aspects of immigration play an important role in the formation of an ethnic identity, so too do the generational aspects of the koineization process play an important role in the eventual formation of the koiné language. Further refining his earlier work with Trudgill, Kerswill, together with Ann Williams, systematizes the generational importance of koineization when the two propose eight different principles that define the koineization process under three different headings: “Outcomes in Post-Contact Varieties,” which includes principles one through three, “The Migrants and the First Generation of Native-Born Chil- dren,” which includes principles four through five, and “The Time Scale of Koineization,” which includes principles six through eight (2000:85, 90, 95). These eight principles are as follows: Principle 1: Majority forms found in the mix, rather than minority forms, win out. Principle 2: Marked regional forms are disfavored. Principle 3: Phonologically and lexically simple features are more often adopted than complex ones. Principle 4: Adults, adolescents, and children influence the outcome of dialect contact differentially. Principle 5: The adoption of features by a speaker depends on his or her network characteristics. Principle 6: There is no normal historical continuity with the locality, either socially or linguistically. Most first and second generation speakers are oriented toward language varieties originating elsewhere. Principle 7: From initial diffusion, focusing takes place over one or two generations. Principle 8: Because of sociolinguistic maturation, the structure of the new speech community is first discernible in the speech of native-born adolescents, not young children. (2000:84–85) 130 B. Marcus Cederström In 2006, Emily Goss and Robert Howell argued that principles one and two are essentially the same and that the most relevant of the two principles is principle two. Goss and Howell argued that “[i]n an urban contact situation where integration is the key to socioeconomic success, speakers will favor forms which are sociolinguistically neutral… while marked regional forms are disfavored” (2006:60). They go on to argue that the amended principle should read as follows: 1–2. Forms found in one dialect, i.e., marked regional forms, are disfavored. Forms found in two or more dialects, i.e., forms which are sociolinguistically unmarked, are favored by speakers for whom social integration is paramount. (Goss & Howell 2006:60) Marked forms in this case are linguistic attributes which would be recognized by community members as being specific to one regional or cultural dialect. These forms are disfavored precisely because they are marked as being different from a dominant form. In situations or communities in which assimilation is important, unmarked forms, that is to say forms that are more common and cannot necessarily be attributed to one specific region, are preferred. Finally, in a later article, Howell argues that principle three should also be reformulated because the “psycholinguistic constraints on possible outcomes extend to morphological and syntactic features” and should instead be stated as follows: “Phonological, morphological, syntactic and lexically simple features are more often adopted than complex ones” (Howell 2006: 216–217). While this reformulation has important implications for the con- tinuing discourse surrounding linguistic koinés, what is important to the following discussion is the idea that simple features tend to be adopted rather than complex ones. Linguistic koinés and the linguistic koineization process continue to be examined, identified, and analyzed by linguists throughout the world. For example, Salmons and Purnell have recently identified linguistic koineization in the Upper Midwest of the United States (2010). Koineization as a process helps to explain the formation of unique languages in immigrant contact systems and explains how and why certain features are maintained through that contact. How and why certain features are maintained are also important aspects of the formation of immigrant identity and culture. Look- ing specifically at the Chisago City community, we see that forms of folklore in the area follow closely the linguistic principles set forth by Kerswill and Williams and later modified by Goss and Howell. Just like language, folklore is a form of expression that community members can take part in as a means of articulating their sense of identity. Just as unique linguistic forms and dialects emerge through koineization, unique forms of folklore emerge, which create a cultural and ethnic identity. Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 131 The eight principles presented above are obviously linguistically grounded; however, the framework presented can be used to help answer similar how and why questions in the realms of folklore. Namely, how and why do unique immigrant identities form? The following discussion will analyze the formation of a uniquely Swedish-American identity in the United States using the principles of koineization. In doing so, the different principles will be reformulated from the description of a linguistic koiné to that of a folkloristic koiné in order to explain how and why unique immigrant cultures form, in this case specifically Swedish-American.

Folkloristic Koineization The idea of a cultural koiné, as distinct from a linguistic koiné, has been used before in the study of Ancient Greek history, often by, or referencing back to, Walter Burkert (Burkert 1992, 2004; Marinatos 2010). A koiné is loosely explained to be a borrowing of sorts, sometimes resulting in adoption. Burkert acknowledges that as cultures come into contact, eventually “something new may arise” but immediately notes that in a Greek context, what emerged was not new, but simply Greek (2004:12). He eloquently discusses the need to see culture as “a complex of communication with con- tinuing opportunities for learning afresh, with conventional yet penetrable frontiers, in a world open to change and expansion,” but attributes this to simple borrowing (Burkert 1992:7). Despite these acknowledgements, the term koiné is never specifically defined. In his book Babylon, Memphis, Persepolis: Eastern Contexts of Greek Culture, Burkert claims that Cyrus H. Gordon first used the term “Bronze age koiné” in his article “Homer and Bible: The Origin and Character of East Mediterranean Literature” and says that it was defined as being a “common understanding within a common civilization” (2004:3). Unfortunately, nowhere in “Homer and Bible” can the word koiné (or Bronze Age for that matter) be found (Gordon 1955). Clearly, Burkert and others acknowledge the potential for a new culture to arise from sustained contact, however the term is misused and not adequate- ly defined, nor is it given the necessary structure needed to be useful to later scholars. No framework exists to explain how and why new cultures arise or how the process of koineization can be defined in cultural or folklore studies. Just as Goss and Howell rewrote or slightly modified the original eight principles by Kerswill and Williams, I propose the following rewriting and modification to define seven principles in the folkloristic koineization process: Principle 1: Cultural traditions found only in one region or country, i.e. marked regional traditions, are disfavored. Traditions found in two or more regions or countries, i.e. traditions which are unmarked, are favored by community members for whom social integration is paramount. 132 B. Marcus Cederström Principle 2: Culturally simple features are more often adopted than complex ones. Principle 3: Adults, adolescents, and children influence the outcome of cultural contact differently. Principle 4: The adoption of traditions by a community member depends on his or her social network characteristics. Principle 5: There is no normal historical continuity with the locality, either socially or culturally. Most first- and second-generation immigrant community members are oriented toward traditions originating elsewhere. Principle 6: From initial dissemination, focusing takes place over one or two generations. Principle 7: Because of cultural maturation, the structure of the new immigrant community is first discernible in the traditions of native-born adults.3 These seven principles define the folkloristic koineization process and can be applied to cultural contact situations to identify how and why certain forms of folklore are retained in specific ethnic identities. H. Arnold Barton in his essay “Cultural Interplay Between Sweden and Swedish America” calls for continued research into the introduction of Swedish customs to the Swedish-American identity and how a unique Swedish-American identity formed (2007:86). What follows will be a detailed description and explanation of each principle using a variety of sources, including field work primarily conducted in the Upper Midwest with Swedish Americans, which aims to answer Barton’s call.

Case Study: Folkloristic Koineization in Chisago County, Minnesota Self-identification as Swedish or Swedish American is especially strong in areas around Chisago County, Minnesota, with the 2000 Census report esti- mating that 21.1% of the county population claims Swedish ancestry (Cen- sus 2000). Swedes first began arriving in the Chisago County area in the 1850s, and Center City was founded by a group of settlers that came from Bishop Hill, Illinois in 1851. Chisago City was platted in 1857 by Isaac Bernheimer & Company, and Lindstrom, named after settler David Lind- strom, was platted in 1880 (Flanagan 1963:6). Because of the long history of Swedish immigration to the region, the Chisago County area is sometimes referred to as “Swedeland.” The perceived Swedishness of the area is strengthened by the immigrant novels written by Vilhelm Moberg about a group of Swedish immigrants who settle in the area, leading to another of its nicknames, “Mobergland.” Several towns with high concentrations of Swedish immigration comprise the area and include Chisago City, Lind- strom, and Almelund, to name a few (Kolpin 2011:7).4 This paper will focus on the experiences of John Mortenson, an active member of the Swe- dish-American community within the Chisago County area, to demonstrate the koineization process; however, examples from fieldwork throughout the Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 133

A statue of Vilhelm Moberg’s characters along with both an American and a Swedish flag at the entrance to Lindstrom, Minnesota. Karl Oskar is looking forward, while Kristina looks back to Sweden.

Upper Midwest have also been included to demonstrate the broader implications of folkloristic koineization. John Mortenson was born in Shafer, Chisago County, Minnesota, in 1925 and strongly identifies culturally and linguistically as Swedish. Both of his parents emigrated from the town of Kivik in Skåne, the southeastern region in Sweden. His father came to the United States in 1903 at the age of 23, and his mother in 1912 at the age of 11. Because John’s mother was only two when John’s father left, it is of course unlikely that they knew each other in Sweden. John’s wife Alice, who was instrumental in supplying information 134 B. Marcus Cederström on family background, confirms that the two most likely did not know each other before leaving Sweden. John’s mother learned English from the children, whereas his father never did. John went to school in Chisago County in the 1930s and learned English while attending an English-language school; at the same time, he and his siblings are reported to have learned English from their older siblings. John remembers not being allowed to speak Swedish while in school in Chisago County. At this time around the country, Swedish language instruction in public schools was waning. The years following World War I saw a distinct drop in courses taught in Swedish in public secondary schools. Esther Chil- strom Meixner describes the decline of Swedish in American public schools around this time and shows that in 1917 approximately 63 schools offered courses taught in Swedish. By 1925, the year John was born, only 36 schools still offered courses taught in Swedish. By 1934, that number had decreased even further to 15. While there was a slight uptick in the number of schools offering courses in Swedish from 15 to 17 in 1940, the overall trend was downward and played a significant role in the use of Swedish in Swe- dish-American communities (Meixner 1941:126). Felecia Lucht (2007), building on work by Joseph Salmons,5 argues that the shift in language was due not as much to nationalist laws in response to the war, but as to what Roland Warren calls the “Great Change,” in which the structure of the American community was changing from a horizontal structure focused locally to a vertical structure, with a more national focus (Warren 1978). Nils Hasselmo describes a similar situation in Swedish America claiming that economic factors, governments, and public schools exerted more pressure to shift from Swedish to English, counteracting the local organizations, Swedish-American churches or Swedish-American presses, that attempted to keep people speaking Swedish (Hasselmo 1974:110–111). As Hasselmo writes “Det kan dock knappast råda något tvivel om att de offentliga ele- mentarskolarna påskyndade språkbytet” [However, there can be no doubt that the public elementary schools accelerated the language shift] (1974:61). While Salmons and Lucht would most likely argue that the simplicity of that statement belies the complexity of the language shift, for the purpose of this paper, it is important to note that the continued decline in Swedish language courses in the US at this time reflects the experiences of John in his elementary school years. Like so many other Swedish speaking students at the time, he was not allowed to speak Swedish in school and was not offered instruction in Swedish. John left home at the age of 16 when his family moved from Shafer, Min- nesota, to Nye, Wisconsin. John stayed in the Chisago County area, and married Alice in the Immanuel Lutheran Church of Almelund, Minnesota. He went on to work as an engineer at a printing house in Minneapolis for 40 years until his retirement. He did not speak Swedish at work. Approximately Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 135 five years ago, John suffered a stroke which resulted in aphasia; however, when he began speaking again, his first words were spoken in Swedish (A. Mortenson 2010; J. Mortenson 2010). As mentioned above, Chisago County was popularized in Moberg’s novels about the emigration of the fictitious Karl Oskar and his family to the area. Today, the community celebrates Karl Oskar Days every summer.6 John works as a tour guide for the celebration and many visitors come from Sweden to take part in it; John says that “I’m a tour guide in Swedish and I go on the bus and I talk to them in Swedish. I explain everything that we have here. They think that’s kinda nice” (J. Mortenson 2010). His role as a Swedish-language tour guide asserts his identity as Swedish. Along with his involvement in Karl Oskar Days, John reports taking part in several easily recognizable Swedish holidays including midsommar [Midsummer], Sank- ta Lucia [Saint Lucy’s Day], valborg [Walpurgis Night], and even våffel- dagen [Waffle Day]. Finally, John prides himself on his identity as a Swedish speaker within the community. He says “Vi har en grupp här. Vi kommer ihop två gånger i månaden. Och vi talar bara svensk. Vi är gosh, vi är fem-sex som kan tala svensk riktig bra” [We have a group here. We get together twice a month. And we only speak Swedish. There are, gosh, there are five or six of us that can speak Swedish really well] (J. Mortenson 2010). He notes that of the group, several different regions in Sweden are represented including Värm- land, Småland, and his parents’ native Skåne. While it is notable that John identifies the different members of the group as coming from different regions of Sweden, it is central to the case for koineization to note the pan- Swedish aspect of the group and their shared language, culture, and heritage which asserts their place amongst the Swedish-American community in Chisago County. It is that specific Swedish-American community which will serve as a case study for the examination of the seven principles I have proposed to describe folkloristic koineization and how that framework can be used to analyze the creation of a Swedish-American identity.

Principle 1: Cultural traditions found only in one region or country, i.e. marked regional traditions, are disfavored. Traditions found in two or more regions or countries, i.e. traditions which are unmarked, are favored by community members for whom social integration is paramount. Swedish immigrants to the United States came from several different provinces: Dalarna, Skåne, Småland, and Värmland, to name a few. As they settled in the United States, these regional distinctions gave way to a greater claim of Swedishness. Barton explains that Swedish immigrants “needed to create their own, new unifying myths and traditions, as the central rituals of organized ethnic life” and goes on to explain that “these traditions were nationally Swedish, rather than local or provincial” (2007:85–86). Much of 136 B. Marcus Cederström this was due to the need for assimilation. Pioneer communities could ill af- ford the misunderstandings that may arise between Skåningar and Smålän- ningar who had immigrated to the United States. As Barbro Klein writes “[i]n order to function and to understand each other in their new world, people had to compare customs and habits, and had to try to overcome the seemingly vast cultural and linguistic differences between Swedish regions in the late nineteenth century” (2004:247). Klein has here succinctly explained principle one of a folkloristic koiné that has been well-documented linguistically. The community that emigrated from Sweden to the Chisago County area came from several different areas in Sweden. A list of members of Imma- nuel Lutheran Church in Almelund, Minnesota, shows 530 members who were born in Sweden and came to the United States between 1853 and 1930. Of those, approximately 150 different Swedish parishes and 15 different provinces throughout Sweden are represented (Bjorklund & Leaf 2001).7 John, whose parents came from Skåne, married Alice, whose parents came from Värmland. With the regular interactions between Swedes from different provinces, including intermarriages like we see with John and Alice, Swedish, rather than provincial, traditions emerged. Many of the holidays celebrated by the Chisago City community are easily recognizable as particularly Swedish. For example, the stjärngossar [star boys], in their white robes and starred conical hats of the Sankta Lu- cia festivities are recognizably Swedish, as is the dance around the May- pole at Midsummer. Both are celebrations which have emerged as pan-Swedish and are thus predicted to be favored, instead of those specific to just one region, such as Mårtensdag, a celebration closely connected to the region of Skåne. Both Lucia and Midsummer are celebrated by John and the Swedish-American community in Chisago County today and both can be recognized by Swedish Americans as Swedish, no matter where in Sweden their family comes from. It is interesting to note that Lucia celebrations began in Sweden as regional in the 1800s and were especially common in the regions around Lake Vänern in southwestern Sweden such as Västergötland and Dals- land. By the middle of the 1800s, the tradition had begun to spread to university towns like Lund and Uppsala, and by the 1890s had spread to Stockholm. In doing so, the tradition began to be viewed outside of Swe- den as uniquely Swedish. By the late 1920s, the tradition was viewed as a significant national holiday in Sweden as well (Danielson 1991:193). While very much regional, the Lucia tradition was found in more than one province within that region. As the tradition spread in Sweden, and the importance of the tradition grew outside of Sweden, it is perhaps not surprising that community members would view Lucia as an unmarked cultural tradition and favor it as a holiday to be celebrated in Swedish America, al- Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 137 though further study into the emergence of national identity in Sweden and the effect that national identity had on Swedish immigrants in the United States is necessary. I have yet to find anyone who celebrates Mårtensdag, a celebration that is today still closely associated specifically with Skåne. Despite his parents coming from Skåne, John does not, nor does the broader community, celebrate Mårtensdag. Here we see a cultural tradition that is generally only celebrated in one province in Sweden being marked as such and thus disfavored. Following the principle, it is not surprising that Mårtensdag is not one of the holidays celebrated in Swedish America.

Principle 2: Culturally simple features are more often adopted than complex ones. Koinés may result in the elimination of complex features of a culture while adopting simple features. What qualifies as simple, though, when discussing folklore? I posit that simple features from a cultural standpoint are easily adoptable, easily reproducible, and easily recognizable as belonging to a certain ethnic identity – St. Patrick’s Day in the United States for example. In many cases in Swedish America in the Upper Midwest we see the adoption of certain foods. Marcia Kuehl says that Christmas at her grandparents’ house in Ironwood, Michigan, included eating lutfisk and that she still today doesn’t “really mind lutfisk that much” (Kuehl 2011). John Mortenson in Chisago City and Jon Bruemmer in Stephenson, Michigan, both mention herring as a traditional food eaten at Christmas. Both foods are easily adoptable, easily reproducible (despite the somewhat lengthy process necessary to make lutfisk), and easily recognizable by later generations (J. Mortenson 2010; Bruemmer 2011). However, it is important to note that simplification is not just the adoption of a form of folklore, but can also include the elimination of a certain form. When asked about the Swedish tradition of including poems with gifts at Christmas, John reported that that tradition was not carried on in his family (J. Mortenson 2010). The creative process of writing a poem in Swedish, or even in English, that describes the gift inside is a difficult task for many people. By discarding poetry at Christmas time, we see an example of the cultural simplification process. Phil Martin writes about the Hardanger fiddle as another example of a complex cultural tradition that was, for the most part, discarded as a Scandinavian-American tradition. Traditionally Norwegian, the Hardanger fiddle remains a relatively minor aspect of Norwegian-American tradition. Martin writes that the Hardanger fiddle is “difficult to play; it is difficult to dance to; it is even difficult to listen to” (1980:11). Therefore, it is not surprising that this typically Nor- wegian instrument no longer plays an important role in the traditions of Norwegian Americans. 138 B. Marcus Cederström Writing about the creation of Swedish-American traditions of Lindsborg, Kansas, and the performance of Swedishness, Gradén explains in On Pa- rade, “that certain phenomena belong to a transnational (or even international) repertoire, while some … are bound to the Swedish-American context” (2003:232). Some aspects of Swedish culture are more easily transfer- able across national boundaries and geographic distance, such as those that have been incorporated into displays of Swedishness in Lindsborg, like folk costumes.

Principle 3: Adults, adolescents, and children influence the outcome of cultural contact differently. The ethnic identity and folklore which emerge from the folkloristic koi- né are influenced differently by adults as opposed to children. The first generation of immigrants is the generation that must learn to accommo- date and adjust to the various mutually intelligible languages and cultures with which they come into contact. These contact situations require a low level of adjustment since the fundamental structures of the culture are still in place. However, some adjustment and work is required and it is the first generation that bears this burden. Later generations learn these accommo- dations and adjustments from birth and so the cultures and languages are, to that specific generation, obviously mutually intelligible. As Hansen suggests, there is a generational aspect to immigrant identity and each generation clearly differs in how they claim and display their ethnic identity. Within the living generations, each group influences the forms of folklore differently. Children, such as John in the 1930s, bring American aspects to the Swedish culture that their parents brought with them from the Old World. In much of Swedish America, for example, later generations have adopted Swedish pancakes as a breakfast food. In contemporary Sweden, pancakes are traditionally served at lunch or at dinner, and often accompanied with pea soup. In the United States, the tradition is to eat pancakes for breakfast. The later generations of Swedish immigrants have been directly influenced by the American foodway and have adopted the custom and adapted their already existing foodway to fit a more American style. Sometimes, the outcome of the generational change is acknowledged by Swedish Ameri- cans. Barton notes (2007:92) that in the October 18, 1990 edition of Nord- stjernan, the American-Swedish Institute shares an announcement for their Svensk Frukost that succinctly states that “Swedes in Sweden don’t have pancakes for breakfast, but Swedes in America do. So, to have a Swedish breakfast for Swedish-Americans, we find that the best and safest bet is to take the best of both worlds” (1990:10). The outcome clearly acknowledges that Swedish-American culture is a unique one, albeit one that has been influenced heavily by Swedish culture. The same can be seen with another traditional breakfast food: waffles. Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 139

The October 18, 1990 article from Nordstjernan, in which the American-Swedish Institute announces their Svensk Frukost.

Swedish Americans in Center City, Minnesota, celebrate waffle day, or våffeldagen, every year. Våffeldagen is actually a linguistic phenomenon emerging from the original vårfrusdagen, Our Lady’s Day or the Annunci- ation, and is celebrated in March every year by eating waffles. In Sweden, waffles tend to be eaten as a dessert and usually with cream, sugar, and some sort of berry. However, I was in attendance at the Swedish American gathering at Chisago Lake Lutheran Church on March 17, 2012 where I, and approximately 50 Swedish Americans, enjoyed waffles served at 5pm alongside two link sausages. The waffles were served with cream and straw- berries as is customary in Sweden. Served with the berries and cream though, was maple syrup. Just as with the generational influence on Swedish pancakes, the celebration and serving of waffles for våffeldagen has taken on distinctly American tendencies, eventually resulting in the unique Swe- dish-American custom.

Principle 4: The adoption of traditions by a community member depends on his or her social network characteristics. Living in a community that was still heavily populated by Swedish immigrants, John’s social network was very much steeped in Swedish tradition. However, this social network began to expand as John and his siblings began attending public school. For example, the younger siblings in John’s family, and even his mother, began to pick up some English from the older children. In other words, until such time as they had contact with social networks outside the Swedish family and immediate community, they had little opportunity to assimilate ideas of Americanness into the different forms of folklore that they practiced at home, and they thus persist- 140 B. Marcus Cederström ed in being mostly Swedish. Later, as they went to school, worked, and married outside of the Swedish community, they began to engage more heavily in the American, English-speaking community. In the process, they discarded many of the nuanced aspects of Swedishness and retained those aspects that were easily recognizable and easily reproducible like certain holidays and foods. Now, as the process of focusing runs its course, the cultural heritage of the community has become uniquely Swedish-American. Jon Bruemmer, a third-generation Swedish American who grew up in Menominee County in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, recounts the many different nationalities that lived in the community. Jon’s mother, just like John Mortenson, grew up speaking Swedish and did not learn English until attending public school. When she did begin attending school, there was a diverse group of children from different nationalities, including the large Scandinavian population. When explaining just how many different ethnicities were present in the community, Jon says “I’m not only talking about Swedish, Norwegian, and Danish, I’m also talking about French, Dutch, a few English, a lot of Germans, Czechs, Poles” (Bruemmer 2011). Jon points out that in the Upper Peninsula, many of these different ethnicities kept to themselves with separate churches and communities. For many children like Jon’s mother, it was not until they began attending school that their social networks began expanding. It was not only children who began to see an expansion in their social networks, which is critical to the koineization process, but also many adult men. The Upper Peninsula at this time was rich in natural resources including lumber, iron, and copper. Jon says that “[o]ne of the things that acted as an integrating influence however was lumbering. The same is true in northern Michigan, up near the areas of the copper and iron mines, where these industries acted as an integrating influence to bring all these various nationalities together simply because they needed the manpower” (Bruemmer 2011). These different ethnicities within social networks led to a greater variety of inputs in terms of cultural exchange and resulted in the unique ethnic identities that exist today, such as those described by John Mortenson in Chisago County or Jon Bruemmer in Menominee County. Chris Koller, a third-generation Swedish American grew up in Chi- cago, Illinois but now lives in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan in Dag- gett. Chris’ family descends from Östergötland and Västergötland and immigrated to the Galesburg, Illinois area, eventually leaving Illinois for Iowa. Chris is an active member of the Bethlehem Covenant Church in Stephenson, Michigan. Bethlehem Covenant was initially founded as the Swedish Mission Church in 1883 by a group of Swedish and Norwegian Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 141 immigrants (Koller & Wikstrom 2008:6). Today, Swedish names dominate the grave markers in the churchyard and a painting titled “The Good Shepherd” by Warner Sallman, a Swedish-American artist, hangs in the sanctuary. Chris regularly attends Soup and Sandwich nights at the church. On one such occasion, I joined Chris at Bethlehem Covenant Church for soup and sandwiches. Chris was excited to share the Swedish aspects of the event with me, most notably the fruktsoppa, or fruit soup. Sitting alongside chili and chicken noodle soup, the fruktsoppa was served to the community members and Chris told me that the soup was so popular that she had never arrived early enough to have a bowl with her sandwiches (C. Koller 2011). Aside from the obvious adoption of a Swedish food into the Swedish-American community, the event also demonstrated the importance of social networks in the adoption of certain traditions. The strong Swedish-American identity within the community results in the adoption of certain traditions, like fruktsoppa at Soup and Sandwich nights, because of the social network which identifies with that particular tradition. The popularity of the fruktsoppa within the social network of Bethlehem Covenant church ensures that the tradition continues. A similar process of cultural adoption depending on social networks is described by Thurine Oleson, a Norwegian immigrant who in Wisconsin My Home recounts the lessons learned from the Yankee households she worked for as her social network expanded (Oleson & Xan 1950:149– 150). Also writing about the Norwegian-American community, Martin, whose explanation of the complexity of the Hardanger fiddle demonstrates principle one of the koineization process in the Norwegian-Ame- rican community, explains that the Hardanger fiddle depended heavily on community support for survival. He writes that “[i]t is not something that a single player, or even a group of dedicated players, can preserve. It requires community support: dancers, listeners, young apprentice players” (Martin 1980:11). The social network of a community member does not only determine which forms of folklore will be adopted, but also plays a role in determining which forms will be discarded, as we see with the Har- danger fiddle in Martin’s example.

Principle 5: There is no normal historical continuity with the locality, either socially or culturally. Most first- and second-generation immigrant community members are oriented toward traditions originating elsewhere. Many of the community members in the early stages of the koiné do not come from the locality in which they find themselves living. The community that John grew up in was decidedly Swedish, both culturally and linguistically, which resulted in many Swedish traditions being celebrated. 142 B. Marcus Cederström However, the world around them was American. As the first generation, John’s parents spoke little to no English and likely had little awareness of American culture, as they both worked at home on the farm and thus had limited daily contact with American cultural inputs. In fact, John recounts that his father would speak only Swedish when going to town: “När min far gick till byen för att köpa saker där talade han bara svenska,” [When my father went to town to buy things, he spoke only Swedish] (J. Morten- son 2010). The community as a whole was oriented toward a world which they no longer inhabited – Sweden – but one from which they still took their traditions. The social and cultural impact of this Swedishness suggests that many of the traditions that were celebrated most likely originated in the Old World. The children were forced to integrate abruptly at school age into an English speaking community. John recalls one such incident as a school- boy: När vi gick till skolan min bror, han var som mig och talade mycket svensk och det var en dag läraren sade till honom. Di hade en höna där och han sade att hönan hade en näbb. Nej nej nej she says, you can’t. You talk English here. [When we went to school, my brother, he was like me and spoke a lot of Swedish and one day the teacher scolded him. They had a hen there and he said that the hen had a näbb [beak]. No, no, no, she says, you can’t. You talk English here.] (J. Mortenson 2010) Students like John and his brother were actively forced to abandon the Swedish language, and to some extent their Swedishness, in order to become Americans. This included speaking English and learning how to be good citizens in American culture, a culture with which they would have had little substantial contact until beginning public school, since they grew up in a Swedish-speaking community which was served by a Swedish-language church. Marcia, whose grandparents lived in Ironwood, Michigan, also a heavily Scandinavian community, remembers that her grandfather would put out a bundle of pine boughs tied together by the front door at Christmas. She remembers her grandfather saying “That’s what we did in Sweden, you’d sweep off your boots” (Kuehl 2011). Marcia describes perfectly the orientation of a first-generation immigrant to a tradition that originated somewhere else, in this case, Sweden. She has adopted this tradition herself, but has also included a Swedish flag and a sign that reads Välkommen [welcome]. With regards to the tradition in general, she says that “they did it, I did it, I’ll make my poor darn kids do it” (Kuehl 2011). Marcia has adopted a culturally simple tradition as we would expect from principle two, but at the same time, by including a Swedish flag and Swedish welcome sign, we see an intensification of Swedishness and a focusing as the Swedish tradition is given a unique flair, which marks it as different from the original tra- Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 143 dition. In doing so, the tradition is marked as specifically Swedish to the surrounding community. Norwegian-American communities display similar aspects of cultural traditions which originated in the Old World. Reidar Bakken writes that many immigrants continued to arrange their farmsteads and build their farm buildings using traditional Norwegian practices, specifically the establishment of double farmyards and the use of certain Norwegian house-types (1994:76– 77, 79, 90). Just as Marcia recalls her grandfather’s tradition of leaving pine boughs by the front door at Christmas as being attributed to Sweden, the establishment of specific building practices in the New World can be attributed to the building practices of the Old World. Since the original immigrants arrived in Coon Valley, Wisconsin, Bakken writes that building practices adopted American aspects, and that “[w]hile the exteriors of the houses are American, the interiors have retained more of Norway” (1994:90). Bakken has explained several aspects of the koineization process in Norwegian- American building practices and what emerges is an end-result that is based on traditions that originated elsewhere, but through cultural contact with American traditions have emerged to form a unique Norwegian-American practice.

Principle 6: From initial dissemination, focusing takes place over one or two generations. John’s parents were first-generation immigrants and would have retained clear ideas of what it meant to be Swedish, especially in regards to the nuances between regions. John, though, a second-generation immigrant, has undergone focusing as the unique output, Swedish-American in this case, becomes established and accepted. As a second-generation immigrant, the different cultural traditions which have emerged as Swedish- American are heavily influenced by input from preceding generations. Highly visible, accessible, and concrete aspects of Swedishness are maintained whereas subtle differences are lost. Kari Lifgren-Dodge of the Kichi Saga Swedish Club in the Chisago County area tells of the Swedish folk costumes that many community members own that were handmade by Shirley Gustafson. However, while the regional differences in dress are acknowledged, many people wear what is considered to be a pan- Swedish folk costume made by Shirley, as this has become a generally accepted and established focusing of the tradition from the initial generation’s immigration. Focusing of such traditions can also be seen in the Kichi Saga Swedish Club announcement for their annual Sankta Lucia program. The advertisement, included in the December 2011 edition of the Chisago Lakes Area Chamber of Commerce Newsletter reminds community members of the program: 144 B. Marcus Cederström

Several aspects of the advertisement are notable in terms of a folkloristic koiné being formed. The first is, of course, the Swedish language and the use of välkommen [welcome] to close the announcement. While John Morten- son, who is a member of the Kichi Saga Swedish Club, does speak Swedish, many members do not. However, the Swedish usage acts as an unmarked and simple feature of the culture that we would expect from principle one and principle two. The one word carries cultural meaning that can easily be understood even by non-Swedish speakers due to the formation of the folkloristic koiné. That one word, while the only Swedish in the advertisement, is not the only Swedish which appears in the program. In fact, John says that “[o]ch det ska be en Sankta Lucia kvinna där och en grupp där. Och di kan … sjunga svensk men di kan inte tala det,” [there will be a woman as Sankta Lucia there and a group there. And they can … sing Swedish, but they can’t speak it] (J. Mortenson 2010). While learning to sing in Swedish is not necessarily simple, it does again act as an unmarked cultural feature that is easily recognizable as part of a cultural tradition that can be identified as Swedish. These aspects of the Sankta Lucia program, together with the ad- mission within the advertisement that the program will be a version specific to the Kichi Saga Swedish Club, demonstrate the focusing that we would expect in principle six. While the program is heavily influenced by the Swe- dish tradition, what is presented is unique to the Kichi Saga Swedish Club and the Chisago County community. Members of the community have shaped the tradition over generations and what the older generation has established is now being displayed, and even enacted, by younger generations who perform at the celebration.

Principle 7: Because of cultural maturation, the structure of the new immigrant community is first discernible in the traditions of native-born adults. In linguistic koineization, Kerswill and Williams argue that “the structure of the new speech community is first discernible in the speech of native- born adolescents, not young children” (2000:85). As the children in the linguistic study grow into adolescence, their sociolinguistic abilities mature Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 145 and focusing occurs resulting in the koiné being discernible in these native-born adolescents (Kerswill & Williams 2000:102–109). In folkloristic koineization though, I argue that we do not see the emergence of the new immigrant identity until the children who were born in the community begin to mature and celebrate their own cultural traditions as adults. While children and adolescents are exposed to various cultural inputs, and while they may begin thinking, even verbalizing, their plans of celebrating a tradition a certain way as adolescents, it is not until they have matured enough to perform various traditions autonomously from their parents that the folkloristic koiné is discernible. It is through their maturation that we see them begin to integrate new traditions to which they have been exposed through cultural contact. This is why we see events like våffeldagen emerging as an amalgamation of Swedish and American traditions forming a uniquely Swedish- American identity in places like Chisago County. Community members like John are examples of the cultural maturation process in which individuals assume and began to celebrate certain Swe- dish-American traditions as adults. John says “after we grew up and we got to know what our heritage is, then we started celebrating holidays just like they do in Sweden” (J. Mortenson 2012). John, as a native-born, second- generation immigrant is an example of the first discernible performer of Swedish-American traditions. His celebration of holidays such as våffelda- gen, which John does not remember celebrating as a child, become a discernible demonstration of the tradition as something uniquely Swedish- American. As an adult, he is able to consciously choose to celebrate certain holidays and to identify himself and the holidays he celebrates as part of the wider Swedish-American community. Starbuck, Minnesota, celebrates its Norwegian heritage with festivals such as Eple Tiden [Apple Time] and the annual celebration of Lefse Dagen [Lefse Day] (Community: Starbuck Minnesota 2011). At Lefse Dagen, participants often sing “The Lefse Song,” which is sung to the tune of “Camp- town Races,” an American minstrel song by Steven Foster. While the author of “The Lefse Song” is anonymous, the lyrics are written in a stereotypically Scandihoovian dialect (“Norskie ladies sing dis song, uff da, uff da./Bake dat lefse all day long, all da uff da day”) (Dregni 2011:250–251).8 This suggests that the author was most likely a later generation immigrant due to the author’s use of Scandihoovian English and not Norwegian, as well as familiarity with “Camptown Races.” Here we see something Norwegian, lefse, influenced heavily by cultural contact; the emerging feature is a song, written in the Scandihoovian dialect sung to the tune of an American song. This song has now become a tradition at Lefse Dagen and can be found in other Norwegian-American communities in the Upper Midwest, and can even be purchased online from Norseland Lefse in Rushland, Minnesota (2011). 146 B. Marcus Cederström Conclusion Chisago City and similar immigrant communities are currently being studied for their linguistic koineization process. In fact, it was the linguistic aspects of Swedish that led to me traveling to Chisago City with a linguist from the University of Wisconsin-Madison in the first place. However, the koineization process does not begin and end with language. As I became more and more familiar with the various forms of folklore in the area, I began to focus more and more on the uniquely Swedish-American aspects of those forms. In doing so, it became abundantly clear to me that linguistic models like koineization should be applied to the cultural contact situations in regions like Chisago County. The forms of folklore that emerge in Swedish America are also affected by koineization. Ethnic identities, such as Swedish-American, are a conglomeration of different regional cultures and ideas made manifest in forms of folklore which emerge over the course of several generations after prolonged contact between cultures. Swedes who travel to Swedish America are sometimes surprised to experience what is maintained as Swedish. While there are aspects that seem Swedish, the Swedish-American traditions are not the same as those in Sweden. Swedish Americans who travel to Sweden react similarly when they experience contemporary Sweden (Gradén 2003:230). Both groups have undergone their own individual creation of identity and while both manifestations of Swedishness may have similarities, they have emerged as uniquely separate from one another. Just as in a linguistic koiné, the output of culture that emerges from the folkloristic koiné does not always match the input which created the koiné. Similar to Lindsborg, Kansas, the area around Chisago City has seen a unique identity emerge. This does not make the ethnic identity any less authentic. Instead, it is important to recognize the identity and traditions celebrated as a unique result of cultural contact. Sweden, after years of emigration, is not confined to the geopolitical borders we see on the map. Instead the culture, language, and ethnic identity have crossed with emigrants to different countries throughout the world. These ethnic Swedes identify as being Swedish or Swedish Americans. Karl Karlsson is one such Swedish American who also frequents the Wagon Wheel Café in Chisago City every other Thursday. Karl is a third-generation American who grew up speaking Swedish at home. When discussing immigration of Swedes to the area, Karl said simply, “[t]he funny part about the Swedish, they all talked Swedish, but none of them would have gone back.” Karl went on to describe just what that meant, referring to the immigrants and the generations that followed as “American Swedes.… Or Swedish Americans…. That was standard” (Karlsson 2012). The ethnic identity that emerged from the immigrants who never chose to go back has given rise to a Swedishness that has become a conglomeration of several different re- Folkloristic Koinés and Swedish-American Ethnicity 147 gional cultures, ideas, and languages formed in the American Upper Mid- west – essentially a folkloristic koiné. The principles set forth above demonstrate the koineization process which transpires when cultural contact occurs, resulting in a unique, albeit not fundamentally new, ethnic identity. While the examples I have given have focused on my field work in Swedish-American communities in the Upper Midwest as well as other scholars’ study of Scandinavian-American communities, I believe that the principles of folkloristic koineization can be used to examine closely other ethnic communities in order to further our understanding of cultural contact and the emergence of ethnic identity.

B. Marcus Cederström Department of Scandinavian Studies University of Wisconsin-Madison 1306 Van Hise Hall 1220 Linden Drive Madison, WI 53705 USA e-mail: [email protected]

Acknowledgements My thanks go out to Jon Bruemmer, Karl Karlsson, Marcia Kuehl, Chris Koller, Alice Mortenson and John Mortenson, and the others at the Kichi Saga Swedish Club and the Wagon Wheel Café who were so generous with their time. I’d also like to thank the following for their comments and discussion on this topic: Susan Brantly, Thomas DuBois, James Leary, Joseph Salmons, Brandy Trygstad, Joelle Tybon, and my family. As always, any mistakes are mine and mine alone.

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Uppsala: Centre for Multiethnic Research, Uppsala University. Propp, Vladimir 1958: Morphology of the Folktale. Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press. Salmons, Joseph C., and Thomas C. Purnell 2010: Contact and the Development of American English. The Handbook of Language Contact, ed. Raymond Hickey. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. ‘Sankta Lucia’ Program December 2011: Monthly Newsletter. Lindstrom, Minneso- ta: Chisago Lakes Area Chamber of Commerce. Schnell, Steven M. 2003: Creating Narratives of Place and Identity in “Little Swe- den, U.S.A.” Geographical Review 93:1. Siegel, Jeff 1993: Introduction: Controversies in the Study of Koines and Koineiza- tion. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 99. Siegel, Jeff 1985: Koines and Koineization. Language in Society 14:3. Spitzer, Nicholas R. 2003: Monde Créole: The Cultural World of French Louisiana Creoles and the Creolization of World Cultures. Journal of American Folklore 116:459. Stern, Stephen 1977: Ethnic Folklore and the Folklore of Ethnicity. Western Folk- lore 36:1. Trask, Robert Lawrence 2000: Dictionary of Historical and Comparative Linguis- tics. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Trudgill, Peter 1986: Dialects in Contact. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Warren, Roland L. 1978: The Community in America. Chicago, Illinois: Rand-Mc- Nally. Waters, Mary C. 1990: Ethnic Options: Choosing Identities in America. Berkeley, California: University of California Press. Zipes, Jack 2002: The Brothers Grimm: From Enchanted Forests to the Modern World. 2nd. New York, New York: Palgrave Macmillan. 150 B. Marcus Cederström Unpublished Bjorklund, Bo, and Earl W. Leaf 2001: Members in Immanuel Lutheran Church Almelund Chisago County Minnesota and born in Sweden. Chisago City, Min- nesota. Bruemmer, Jon October 8, 2011: Recorded interview conducted by B. Marcus Ce- derström at the Bethlehem Covenant Church in Stephenson, Michigan. 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1 See my article “Swedish Space in Upper Midwestern Churches” in American Studies in Scandinavia Issue 1, Volume 44, 2012 (forthcoming), for further use of quotations and documents from my fieldwork in the Upper Midwest in an examination of the church as a space of Swedishness. 2 Note that “koineization” is sometimes spelled “koineisation.” I have chosen to spell the word with a z, but have retained the original spelling in any direct quotes used. 3 Note that unlike Goss and Howell, who chose to combine Kerswill and Williams’ principles 1 and 2 into “Principle 1-2,” I have chosen to work from Goss and Howell’s model, but instead refer to the first principle as “Principle 1,” instead of “Principle 1-2.” The following principles are listed in numerical order from one through seven. 4 For a more comprehensive examination of the area, in particular Lindstrom, Minnesota, see Kolpin, Placing Literature pp. 4-10. 5 For more on this see Salmons, “Language Shift and Community Structure: How and Why Wisconsin German Speakers Became English Monolinguals,” (1999), or Salmons, “The Role of Community and Regional Structure in Language Shift,” (2005). 6 For an in-depth look at Karl Oskar Days see Kolpin, Placing Literature, 2011. 7 This document was given to me by Alice Mortenson in Chisago City, Minnesota, during a personal interview conducted on May 12, 2011. 8 Scandihoovian is a term that is especially used in the Upper Midwest to describe Scandina- vians, usually Swedes and Norwegians, who immigrated to the United States. The term seems to have emerged around the turn of the twentieth century, and the Dictionary of American Re- gional English notes that the term was first used in print in 1901. See Hall, Joan Houston. Dictionary of American Regional English, Volume IV P–Sk. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Har- vard University Press, 2002:772. Narrating Magic, Re-visioning Historiography 151 Narrating Magic, Re-visioning Historio- graphy

On Stephen A. Mitchell’s Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages

John Ødemark

Stephen A. Mitchell: Witchcraft and Magic in the Nordic Middle Ages. Philadelphia: Penn University of Pennsylvania Press 2011. 368 pp. Illustrated.

Magic and witchcraft are far from incidental to Nordic cultural and religious history. On the contrary these are cultural traits that have been associated with the north in European intellectual discourse for centuries, an association often attributed to Olaus Magnus’ Historia de gentibus septentrionali- bus (1555). Thus, the Northern periphery earned a central place in European symbolic geography. We learn from Harvard professor in folklore and Scan- dinavian studies, Stephen A. Mitchell, that the linkage between the north and magic is older. It is present in Saxo, as well as in the mid-twelfth century Historia Norwegie and the Vetus Chronica Sialandie (106–107). And as Mitchell further observes, “[m]agic, witchcraft, and sorcery as a means of identifying or characterizing in such a context that which was understood to be foreign, distant, or ‘other’ appears to be a common theme in all of them” (106, my emphasis). Moreover, a certain literary taming of narratives containing magic can be found in the Icelandic sagas; where magical intervention in the machinery of the plot is more likely to occur in stories situated in the distant past (74–116). In this groundbreaking work Mitchell has produced the first comprehensive treatment of magic and witchcraft in what he designates as “the Nordic Middle Ages”. As the author underlines, the geographical scope of the “Nordic” was vast: It included large parts of “Northern Europe, […] Green- land, Iceland and the Faroes, […] Shetland and parts of insular and coastal Scotland”, along with “modern day Norway, Denmark, and Sweden, and Gotland” and even “parts of costal Finland, and other areas around the Bal- 152 John Ødemark tic littoral, and extended south into modern Germany” (17). The developments of key ideas concerning magic and witchcraft in this vast – and varied – cultural space are followed from around 1100 to 1525, i.e. from the period after the “Viking Age”, and the arrival of Christianity, to the onset of the Reformation, and the establishment of Sweden as a separate kingdom (independent of Denmark) – and the founding of the political geography that in the main would dominate the region in the coming centuries (xi). It is a major achievement of Mitchell’s work that the “Nordic space” is consistently connected to European developments in conceptions of magic and witchcraft, not least the often commented shifts in thirteenth-century demonology. This represented an increased diabolization of magical practices in a chain of text beginning with Vox in Rama (1233), where the forging of a se- mantic field comprising heresy, apostasy and magic along with a depiction of something resembling an inverse, diabolical mass, was sanctioned by the papacy (x, cf. 2–4). In the early fourteenth century legal regulations of magic become more severe also in Nordic region, and the death penalty was introduced in some law codes. The sources studied are unusually varied; texts in different genres; law codes, trial records along with the sagas, visual culture and folklore, and in a few cases, archaeological and material evidence is examined (17–24). The volume is meticulously researched, and the scholarly apparatus is truly impressive (running from page 207 to 352) containing an ample section of end- notes, an extensive bibliography as well as a comprehensive analytical index. Mitchell combines learning, overview and synthesis with a keen sense for textual, linguistic and – occasionally – visual details. Moreover, the main text is easily accessible and highly readable, as Mitchell efficiently guides the reader into the relevant historical and theoretical contexts at each crucial step in the analysis. Consequently, it is at all times easy to follow the author’s reasoning. Indeed, this clarity is crucial; for Mitchell addresses scholars from different disciplines, historian of things Norse and students of magic and witchcraft more generally. The introduction (1–15) contains a concise and up-to-date presentation of the state of the art of research on both Nordic and European magic and witchcraft both before and after Mitchell’s period. The following six chapters are arranged by topic: Mitchell turns his attention to magic in everyday life (41ff), the narration of magic, not least in the sagas (74ff), and the broader mythology of witchcraft in the period is also examined with an original use of visual sources (117ff). In the last two chapters, Mitchell turns to legal codes (146ff), and finally, the issue of magic and gender (175ff). Narrating Magic, Re-visioning Historiography 153 I Mitchell initially presents his project as an attempt to fill in the gaps between two different “bookends” in the historiography of Nordic witchcraft and magic: “To date, there have been no comprehensive evaluations of Nor- dic witchcraft beliefs between 1100 and 1525, whereas studies of Scandina- vian witchcraft in the eras both before and after this period abound” (1). The author delivers what he promises, but in addition the work will also be a natural point of reference for scholars working on the periods both before and after Mitchell’s: The textual sources for the magic of the “Viking Age” belong to Mitchell’s period, and many of the historical developments treated continue into the early modern age, across the religious and historical divide constituted by the Reformation. The conceptual and analytical choices that define the scope of the work and enable the author to relate the Nordic to the wider regional and intellectual context are dealt with in the preface. Mitchell asks whether the choice of the terms “magic” and “witchcraft” is made at the expense of the local, “emic” terminology of the Norse cultural tradition (e.g. trolldómr, galdr)? Mitchell compares the predicament to that of the student of folk narratives (cf. the distinction between “ethnic” and “analytical genres”). The author, however, concludes that “using native terminology has its advantages, [but] it also removes the Nordic world from the growing international discussion of [magic and witchcraft]” (xiii). This choice of analytical terminology is fe- licitous for two main reasons: (1) It enables the inscription of the Nordic material in a wider historical story space; and (2) as a result of the study of the Nordic material, new light is also shed on central topics of debate in recent studies of European magic and witchcraft. In practice, the author also gives ample space for the particularity of the “Nordic voice”. This is due not least to the combination of approaches from folklore and cultural studies and close philological attention to words and terminology in the Norse source texts. The most salient concepts and terms are always cited. Thus, the local, terminology is never overrun by analytical categories, and it is at all times easy to follow Mitchell’s translations of Norse witchcraft semantics into the analytical vocabulary that informs his approach. Moreover, the Nordic Middle Ages is definitely a cultural contact zone; Latin terminology, like “maleficium”, was deployed to designate illegitimate (magical) practices, and thus responded to and aimed at controlling practices codified in the vernacular (ibid.). As a corollary, this indicates that the question of terminology (in this and in other cases) is more complex than a choice between two poles (the “emic” or “etic”, the “ethnic” or “analytical”). These options between analytical perspective and terminology are certainly predicated upon spatial metaphors differentiating the cultural “outside” from the “inside, and the analytical from the authentic. The choice between such linguistic points of view (“magic” or “trolldómr”), however, is 154 John Ødemark never made on the “inside”, but always involves an exotopy, and a distance from the analytical object. In the words of M. Sahlins: “A given form of life becomes comprehensible by its calibration in the array of other schemes” (2004:5). The conceptual dilemma treated above is not identical to, but nevertheless shares some qualities with, the difficulties relating to the polarity between “folk” and elite”, which Mitchell elegantly tackles. This analytically over- worked opposition has until recently had a firm grip upon witchcraft studies, and still appears to have a certain currency in Norwegian research (maleficium is popular while the “elite” is concerned with diabolism; the people are the victims of the elite’s disciplining project). Mitchell substitutes the binary with a more nuanced and far more adequate notion of a network of identities, “envisioning individuals in terms of their relation to a number of factors, not just two poles […] provide a more rounded and realistic view of lived lives and […] allowing us to see from our materials that priests, princes and wealthy merchants […] were just as capable of a ‘magical world view’ as farmers, laborers and prostitutes” (19). “Magic” was thus never the sole province of the “people” from the “little tradition” – nor of pagans as opposed to Christians. Mitchell actually sees “magic” both as a boundary marker and as a cultural bridgehead between “paganism” and Christianity in narratives about Christianization. This is intrinsically related to the manner in which Mitchell defines “magic” – how he construes it from an analytical “exotopy” which both takes into account the Church’s use of magic as a counter-concept, and disregards this by seeing it as an actor em- ploying magic itself. In the preliminary delimitation of the field of inquiry, Mitchell treats the seminal distinction between “religion” and “magic” as categories based upon two different attitudes to the “supernatural”. In this scheme – categories vital in the anthropology and cultural analysis of religion, but as has been observed, already calibrated in Reformation and Enlightenment thought (Tambiah 1990) – the former is associated with “supplication” (prayer and “pure” worship, putting one’s destiny in the hands of God), and the latter with “manipulation” (coercing supernatural powers to intervene, and thus closer to science than pious trust in the providence of God). Thus, religion is to prayer as magic is to spell. However, Mitchell also puts this polarity aside (13). This is commendable for several reasons, not least because the opposition is so charged with post-Reformation meaning, and as such actually was a part of reformed attempts to discipline religious and cultural practices in the period following Mitchell’s. A case in point is the attempts by the Danish bishop and reformer, Peder Palladius, to replace charms with prayer and a Job-like trust in God in time of misfortune, i.e. “manipulation” with “supplication” (Gilje 2003). However, Mitchell also shows that this manner of separating Christian “religion” as “pure” practice Narrating Magic, Re-visioning Historiography 155 and faith also has a longer theological history, going back to St Augustine, who made a distinction between attitudes in religious worship, and placed the acts and states of mind associated with intents to “force” the deity, an illegitimate means-ends relationship, outside the field of orthodox praxis – even if the “symbolic” actions involved in the rite seemed identical (51). Debunking the prayer/spell distinction, Mitchell turns to R. and M. Wax and their 1962 article “The Magical World View” to find a “paradigm to account for the category we call ‘magic’” (13). A central aim for the Waxes was to free magic from the evolutionary conceptualization, where magic was seen as an early stage of religion, and/or as an early stage in the history of science (e.g. Tylor and Frazer). In this attempt to salvage magic from the evolutionary downgrading, the notion of “power” is essential. “Power” comes to define “magic” irrespective of the mental attitude or pragmatic motive behind the magical act: “the cultic practices of the magical world ex- hibit a variety of relationships to beings of Power. Sometimes these are sup- plicative; sometimes manipulative” (R. and M. Wax ibid.). This approach then has the merit of turning the focus towards the actor; the person who aims to achieve a particular goal, or state of mind, by using or turning to the powers at hand. In addition, it underscores that the actor lives in a cosmos where there are superhuman beings and forces to take into account, to communicate with. Accordingly communication, persuasion and negotiation cannot be restricted to a cultural sphere that is conceived in a modern manner as being a product of human construction. Mitchell further notes that the criteria in the paradigm taken from the Waxes is effectiveness (does it work?), not “theological purity” (ibid). As he also adds, the approach is also fitting in a syncretistic situation where (what F. Barth has called) different “streams of tradition” run together, and this “supplies” people with different “powers” to turn to – when, for instance, experiencing misfortune. As I understand it, one important lesson taken from Mitchell is that, for example, the finding of pagan objects together with Christian crosses, as in Birka in Sweden (cf. Steinsland 2000, illustration I:12), should not solely be accounted for by the syncretism and inclusiveness of polytheistic paganism. It could equally well be a result of Christian “baptizing of the customs”, the incorporation (exorcism + baptism) of what could previously be considered as pagan elements into the symbolic household of God (cf. Scribner 1993 on the tension between accommodation and diabolization). Yet, the identity of the source of “power” was of course of vital interest to the church (God or the Devil, miracle or mirabilia?). A key thinker like Thomas Aquinas concluded that all attempts at magical manipulation constitute self-delusion; they equal being manipulated by the Devil. If magic works (the effectiveness is never doubted here) and the effects cannot be ascertained as having their cause either in God or in nature (i.e. natural magic), the cause behind the effectiveness of magic is inescapably demonic: 156 John Ødemark [T]hese effects are accomplished by an intellect to whom the discourse of the person uttering these words is addressed. We have an indication of this in the fact that the significative words employed by the magician are invocations, supplications, adju- rations, or even commands as though they were addressing another. (Aquinas in Le- vack 2004:37) Another advantage of Mitchell’s use of the Waxes’ paradigm, is that difference in cosmology, what Nils Gilje has called a semiotic cosmos, filled with “super- and preternatural” beings and forces that the “actor” can communicate with, comes into play (2003). In line with this Mitchell sketches a world view based upon “belief in causation, a world where nothing is accidental, but rather the result of the action of others, stimuli that can be interdicted and altered” (41). It is not evident, however, that the broader notion of a “magical world view” (from the Waxes) adds much to the understanding of magic and witchcraft in the specific culture and time under scrutiny. In a certain sense, this postulated cross-cultural “world view” only differentiates “our” world view – where the preternatural as well as religions have lost official explanatory power (cf. Daston 1998) – from that of the Nordic Middle Ages, as well as all other “others” whose reasoning and practice are not in line with the range of reality posits warranted by the modern natural sciences. If an actor aims at achieving a certain goal – be it penance or gratification of erotic desire – through certain means (supplication or manipulation in relation to a power) we will not learn much about his or her particular world view and the content of his/her “culture-bound” rationality – except that it is different from “our” rationality – by branching it off as a separate, generalized magical world view.

II The definition of magic as a manner of tapping into “power”, irrespective of its religious or cultural “origin”, enables Mitchell to construct something akin to a grammar of magical situations. In “Magic and Witchcraft in Daily Life” (41–73) he takes the reader on an intriguing tour through a set of situations in which magic was used. Actually, most of these scenes appear to be life situations charged with ontological insecurity and/or strong desires: love and sexuality (52–59), fortune (59–62), health (62–64), weather (65– 66), and malediction (66–73). It is interesting, original (and quite possibly a carnivalesque play with the reception history) that Skírnismál, which has been associated with the heights of royal instauration and the hieros gamos rite, is brought into contact with “daily life” by being treated in this part. To a certain degree it seems that the material reinforces the “classic” and psychologically grounded functionalism of Malinowski (who is cited in the incipit of the chapter). Magic, Malinowski maintained, is deployed in situations of insecurity or lack of efficient technological control – when human Narrating Magic, Re-visioning Historiography 157 “power” is not enough (deep water fishing in the Trobriand Islands required magic whereas lagoon fishing did not). However, magic is never explained away in Mitchell’s volume – as Stuart Clark claimed that functionalist explanations did, by translating the phenomenon into an ontological realm where “we” can find causes or “acceptable powers”, and thus “explain[ed] it in terms of something more real – for example, some set of social, political, or psychic condition” (Clarke 2001:5). On the contrary, the notion of magic as a relation to “Power” allows Mitchell to grasp in one analytical field theological debates in the period, redefinitions of magic in the Middle Ages and the motif of the “magical duel” between pagans and Chris- tians. As noted above, it seems that “magic” – or its local equivalents, in the Norse text – functioned as a kind of boundary concept that mapped the relations between different kinds of beings (humans, Æsir, Vanir) and ethnic groups (the Sami as ethically marked holders of magical knowledge in Ynglinga saga).This manner of mapping relations to others with reference to “magic” is also at work in attempts to categorize and narrate the relation to Christianity. The difference in the evaluation of Óláfr Tryggvason – the John the Baptist–like precursor of Óláfr the Saint according to the text and time-binding logic of Heimskringla – in terms of his relation to magic is an intriguing case in point. Contrary to the prefigurative function in Snorri, where he logically also is cast as a zealous enemy of pagan magicians, Adam of Bremen construes the king as an apostate, an adept in the ars magicae, who even “allowed his household to be composed of witches” (33). Different evaluations from different times, then, but in both cases, Óláfr’s relation to magic furnishes the – undeniably Christian – measure of the king’s historical role and “cultural” value. Or as Mitchell phrases it, “magic, often dueling pagan and Christian magic, is a frequent phenomena in conversion tales”, often emphasizing “the moment when Christian magic – a miracle – tipped the scales in favor of that religion” (32). In the Church’s official understanding, only the pagan practice would be construed as “magic”, a false “mirabilia”, whereas “Christian magic” would refer to real and divine intervention – a miracle. Mitchell’s analytical disregard of the Church’s criteria for demarcating “magic” from legitimate cult thus actually enables him to construe conversion and conversion stories as a series of magical duels.

III Mitchell then presents his project as an attempt to fill in the empirical gaps, the space on the shelf, between two different “bookends” in the historiography of Nordic witchcraft and magic. Nevertheless, the book is not chrono- logically organized. Rather it is arranged thematically – a manner of com- 158 John Ødemark position that allows Mitchell to presents new perspectives on the same sources, for instance Ragnhildr tregagás, involved in a case of malign magic, diabolism (“et se dyabolo commendavit”) and other crimes in Bergen in 1325 – the only documented witchcraft trial in Norway during the Middle Ages (Bang 2005:136). The high literary appeal of the text owes a lot to this form of composition. However, this is not only a “mere” stylistic factor; it also furnishes the analysis with an engaging open-endedness. Mitchell’s statement of intent is actually too modest, since the book certainly does far more than filling in an empirical space in the historiography of Nordic magic and witchcraft. –As in other forms of storytelling, a change in the middle will have implications for the historiography of beginnings and ends. Before Mitchell’s period begins, we have the “Viking Age”, and its witchcraft and magic, treated in influential works by François-Xavier Dillman, Catharina Raudvere and Neil Price – all researchers who (with different approaches, to be sure) have reconstructed a prior cultural “layer” by using narrative and literary sources produced in Iceland (along with archaeological material). Thus, the works in question have all tried to tease out a “native voice” and a pagan perspective on “magic” from texts produced after the arrival of Christianity, tracing the “beginning” from sources written in a Christianized medias res – in Mitchell’s period (6–8). Mitchell has a balanced view of the intricate issue of this kind of reconstruction. On the one hand, he often stresses that the sagas were produced centuries after the events they purport to “report” about, and that they are literary works. Re- garding the issue of precisely what they should be considered as sources for, he asserts, “the sagas are first and foremost testimony to how thirteenth-century Icelanders understood – and used – their forebears’ conduct and beliefs” (7). On the other hand, he also claims that “there existed well into the Middle Ages practices and narratives whose roots can be traced back to pre-Christian times” (10–11, my emphasis). However, he nuances this by adding that “it would be naïve to assume that elements of pagan magic, sorcery and witchcraft simply continued to exist for centuries, completely un- altered by their Christian contexts” (11). What is the relation between the roots under the soil and the trunks and branches visible above it? The sources for pre-Christian magic then belong to Mitchell’s period. Hence, the role of magic – and not least pagan magic as a cultural memory worthy of reproduction (e.g. the sagas) in a situation where the balance of power/s had radically changed – obviously must be taken into account in all attempts to relate the magical motifs and scenes in the narrative text to a previous situation. It follows that source criticism and cultural analysis of the role of magic and witchcraft in the “middle period” inevitably have to pass through the “filter” of the culture of magic in Mitchell’s period. Conse- quently, the comprehensive picture presented in the book will be an ex- Narrating Magic, Re-visioning Historiography 159 tremely valuable resource for work on the prior period as well, not least due to the Mitchell’s observations concerning the bridgehead and boundary- maintenance function of magic. Leaning towards the other “bookend”: the Reformation, and the post- Reformation developments, intrinsically linked to the witch trials. Accord- ingly, Mitchell ends his account in Denmark, with Peder Palladius, arguing for the necessity of situating studies of early modern witchcraft in a deeper historical context: “Despite the break with the Catholic Church […], witchcraft’s trajectory changed little in the Protestant era” (206). Mitchell argues convincingly for the deeper history of some of the myths and motifs that will be central in the age of the witch trials. In “Medieval Mythologies” (117– 145), he makes a substantial contribution to the history of early modern witchcraft. As noted, ideas and ideologies related to the pact with the devil and the Sabbath have habitually been attributed to elite positions. Mitchell turns to evidence from visual culture; more precisely church paintings in Sweden and Denmark, to examine the myths and motifs of the pactum cum diabolo, transvection and journeys to Blåkulla, and the milk stealing witch (117–145) – certainly notions central in the later witch trials. Here Mitchell offers thought-provoking interpretations that put pressure upon the idea that these notions pertain to the elite, and to the period after the Reformation. A visual case in point is the depictions of transvectant witches in company with the devil and diabolical associates found in Knutby church (ca. 1490) and in Yttergran Church (ca. 1480) (128–129). Mitchell relates the paintings to (older) textual evidence, the Norse text, where the terminology of transvection occurs in the vernacular, albeit mobilized in a slightly different narrative context. The Icelandic Ketils saga hængs, for instance, combines the idea of transvection and assembly, associated, intriguingly, with the þing, and uses terms like gandreið and trollriða, and links them with tröllkonu (131–32). This text was possibly produced as early as around 1300, and Mitchell wonders whether it laid “the foundation for how the Sabbath […] was understood in Northern Europe” (131). Another example of highly intriguing hybridity – and possible continuity – is the Swedish cases against people charged with apostasy, and for making a pact with Óðinn. In Stockholm in the 1480s, the servant Erik Claueson confessed to having gone nine Thursdays nights to the churchyard and accepted “the devil” Óðinn for the sake of making money (173). Mitchell doubts the tendency to dismiss the reference to Óðinn in this and similar cases as a late medieval diabolization, since “there is evidence suggesting connections to the pagan god through charm magic” (50). Could these apparently multi-voiced mythical motifs, fusing Óðinn and the devil, seiðr with Sabbaths, be seen as similar to what Carlo Ginzburg in his studies of the Sabbath called a “compromise formation”, a belief complex containing “traces” of different social and cultural voices from differ- 160 John Ødemark ent origins, but inscribed in the “archives of repression” by scribes from the hegemonic culture (1989 and 1991)? Mitchell introduces the debate between Norman Cohn (the Sabbath is a learned fiction imposed from above) and Ginzburg (it is a distorted “translation” of a real phenomenon in popular culture, ultimately having a pan Eurasian shamanism, surviving in folklore, as its subterranean root). Mitchell, however, resists the temptation to follow, for instance Price’s “Viking way” into the cognitive archaeology of a – postulated – shared Norse and Sami shamanism (124–25). Mitchell’s examination of the double-voiced nature of the Nordic sources, however, appears to confirm the more general and firmer notion that the Sabbath was not a pure monological imposition from above, a notion which in any case does not need the arche of original shamanism to become plausible: “Neither the claim that this myth originated entirely in a set of pan-European folk beliefs […] nor the older view that it was entirely the creation of medieval inquisi- tors and theologians can be sustained” (Levack 2006a:13). The devil’s pact is also found in the material from Iceland. Mitchell presents the little-known case of Kristin, a nun, who was burned at the stake for making a pact with the devil in Kirkjubær in 1343 (122 and 171). Thus, in contrast to the male-dominated trials in early modern Iceland, the victim here is a woman. Why did Kristin, in contrast to Ragnhildr in Bergen some twenty years earlier, receive so harsh a sentence? The context was one of social, moral and religious turmoil, closer to the atmosphere of the late medieval and early modern trials. Mitchell further associates this social condition with “the template for accusations of witchcraft” (123). This is linked to his endorsement of a modified Macfarlane thesis, according to which “the presence of some tension or anxiety or unexplained phenomena” along with “the directing of this energy into certain channels”, are the prerequisite for witchcraft charges – and persecutions (Macfarlane cited p. 7, my emphasis). In relation to this one wonders whether social and epistemic factors of such a general nature should be taken as a generalization concerning certain typical social situations where witchcraft accusation may come into play, and be acted upon, but need not. Surely the listed factors (being “all too human”) do not add up to necessary causes “inevitably” producing witch persecutions, even if the institutional channels should be present. If they are necessary causes, they are surely not sufficient causes, the identification of which we are still waiting for also in relation to the later “hunts”. Perhaps this is because the explanandum is too complex to be explained with reference to a single explanatory model (cf. Levack 2006b for an attempt to construct a global explanatory scheme balancing necessary and sufficient causes modelled on E. H. Carr’s conception of historical explanation). Narrating Magic, Re-visioning Historiography 161 IV Macfarlane had learnt from the Azande analysis of Evans-Pritchard, who claimed that witchcraft functioned as a kind of theodicy, explaining unfortunate events at an existential level, as a kind of “secondary causation”. The Azande understood perfectly well that termites caused the collapse of the hut, but witchcraft explained why a given person was inside the hut at the specific moment it collapsed (i.e. the existential “why me?”). The import from Africa was behind the influential socio-cultural turn in British studies of early modern witchcraft on a village level (Macfarlane, Thomas), but also fuelled the so-called rationality debate in philosophy and anthropology where the rationality of witchcraft and magic among “primitives” and “non-moderns” became a critical concern. Lately research in cultural history has again turned to pre- and early-modern views of nature-culture distinctions. In this situation, it is perplexing that cultural historical studies of magic and witchcraft, studies akin to Mitchell’s and attuned to questions of meaning, are so few. As has been claimed by Stuart Clark and others, the preternatural constituted the ontological realm in relation to which debates about magical and demonical agency were referenced in pre- and early- modern Europe (Clark 1997, cf. Daston 1998). Or as Mitchell phrases it, “natural magic was not distinct from science, but rather a branch of science. […] demonic magic was not distinct from religion, but a perversion of religion” (14). Actually, the theological underpinning of the concept of “nature”, along with the historical contraction of the category of the preternatural, is indispensable for understanding pre- and early-modern constructions of “nature”, as well as the modern distinction between “nature” and “culture”, which only arises when the preternatural zone in between the two, and through which supernatural beings can communicate, is wiped out. Thus one can hope that Mitchell’s volume inspires work also on later periods in Nordic history where magic’s bilateral entanglement in religion and science is taken more fully into account. There is also much methodological inspiration to be gathered from Mitchell’s book. The notion of performance is called upon several places. It efficiently weaves a pattern that connects different genres of texts and sources and the sagas; the case against Ragnhildr tregagás and the highly elaborate literary performance, as it can be found for instance in the saga of Egill Skallagrímsson, which elaborately describes how Egill places a horse’s head on an insult pole and then performs an incantation, and Skírnismál (68ff). Mitchell uses performance to identify a common pattern, an identity across different cultural genres embedded and expressed in surviving texts, in the Nordic performance of magical acts, “their place in a broader tradition of enactments” (69, my emphasis). The identity postulated here, in the name of tradition, is surely more general and flexible than for instance reading the magical performance of Skírnismál as an enactment of 162 John Ødemark the unified “code” or “script” of a hieros gamos ritual, which, in turn is dependent upon the univocal matching of the symbols deployed in the text (ring, apple, sceptre) with the broader paradigm of the holy marriage as a fertility and/or instauration rite (cf. Steinsland 2000:59ff). Nevertheless, the pattern of tradition appears to articulate a script “coded” in the figure of Óðinn, who in the Rúnatal and Ljóðatal sections of Hávamál takes control over the “power” of runes (magical writing) and spells (voiced formulas), and thus combines voice and writing in the magical performance, a fact that further belies “the frequent treatment of the two communication modes as being in categorical opposition to one another” (71). Regarding the performance of Ragnhildr tregagás, Mitchell deftly reflects upon the possible public nature of magical performance. Does it demand a public component – perhaps analogous to the promulgation of a law – to be effective or binding? If so, does this explain why Ragnhildr finds it necessary to step out of the enclosed marital chamber of her former lover where she, covertly and thus safely, has voiced her malediction and hidden magically charged objects to hinder sexual consummation and consequent procreation (72)? Here it is also tempting to contemplate whether Ragnhildr’s marking of the traditional performance model, with what appears to be subjective anger and claims of authorship, could be linked to the kind of narrative authority that Diane Purkiss has described in relation to the – often elaborate – tales told in court by accused women (Purkiss in Clark 2001 and Purkiss 1996). Another theme in the book that can profitably serve as a model for research outside the orbit of studies of Norse culture, and magic has to do with the incorporation of cultural difference in narrative time. Mitchell observes that the use of magic in the plot of the sagas is governed by a temporal grid: As the narrated events come closer to the event of the literary narration, the role of magic as a plot mover decreases. At the other end of the temporal scale, however, magic serves as a causal and plot-determining factor. This observation is indebted to earlier studies of genre and time in the sagas (Sigurður Nordal in particular), but is reworked in a creative way by Mitchell (103). Clearly, this manner of domesticating time by means of narrative is different from the location of “supernaturally” caused events in mythic time – in a distant illo tempore when the world was constructed by supernatural beings who laid the foundation for the human habitat as we presently know it. And to add another narrative genre as a comparative yard- stick, it is also different from the closed and backward-oriented time of the epic, where the grandiose acts of the heroes takes place in what Bakhtin construed as a closed chronotope where all cultural value is invested in the past (1982:15–17). On the one hand, the magical past of the saga could perhaps be seen as a source of cultural or ethnic identity and value (as in the case of myth and epic). On the other hand, the temporal orientation of the saga and the magical plot it encompasses appears to be the progress towards future; Narrating Magic, Re-visioning Historiography 163 the source of salvation and religious identity and value according to the Christian plot: “The viewpoint of a Christian interpretation of history is fixed on the future as the temporal horizon of a definite purpose and goal; and all modern attempts to delineate history as a meaningful, though indefinite, progress towards fulfillment depend on this later thought” (Löwith 1949:160, my emphasis). If this is so, and the saga thus encompasses a past associated with pagan magic as an emblem of what “we” were before conversion, it already accomplishes something similar to the timing of cultural difference that has been seen as a characteristic of modernity and enlightenment though by Bauman and Briggs and Johannes Fabian (Bauman & Briggs 2003). Perhaps the saga example shows that this manner of timing difference simply is the manner in which salvation history incorporates difference? Mitchell has not “only” furnished us with a comprehensive analysis of magic in the Nordic Middle Ages, in between two “bookends”, he also sets us on the track of how other shelves in the library of cultural history can be reorganized.

John Ødemark, PhD, Senior Lecturer, Department of Culture Studies and Oriental Languages. University of Oslo P.O.Box 1010, Blindern NO - 0315 Oslo Norway e-mail: [email protected]

References Bang, A. Chr. 2005: Norges hexeformularer og magiske opskrifter. Oslo. Bakhtin, M. M. 1982. The Dialogical Imagination: Four Essays. Austin. Bauman, Richard & Briggs, Charles 2003: Voices of Modernity. Language Ideolo- gies and the Politics of Inequality. Cambridge Clark, Stuart (ed.) 2001: Languages of Witchcraft. Narrative, Ideology and Meaning in Early Modern Culture. London. Clark, Stuart 1997: Thinking With Demons. The Idea of Witchcraft in Early Modern Europe. Oxford.. Daston, Lorraine 1998: The Nature of Nature in Early Modern Europe. Configura- tions 6.2, pp. 149–172. Gilje, Nils 2003: Heksen og humanisten. Anne Pedersdatter og Absalon Pederssøn Beyer – en historie om magi og trolldom i Bergen på 1500-tallet. Bergen. Ginzburg, Carlo 1989: The Inquisitor as Anthropologist. Clues, Myth and the His- torical Method. Baltimore. Ginzburg, Carlo 1991: Ecstasies: deciphering the witches' Sabbath. New York. Levack, Brian 2004: The Witchcraft Sourcebook. New York and London Levack, Brian 2006a: Themes of Recent Witchcraft Research. ARV Nordic Year- book of Folklore, Vol. 62. 164 John Ødemark Levack, Brian 2006b: The Witch-Hunt in Early Modern Europe. 3rd ed. Harlow. Löwith, Karl 1949. Meaning in History. Chicago & London. Purkiss, Diane 1996: The Witch in History. Early Modern and Twentieth-Century Representations. London. Sahlins, Marshal 2004. Apologies to Thucydides. Understanding History as Culture and Vice Versa. Chicago. Scribner, R. W. 1993. The Reformation, Popular Magic, and the "Disenchantment of the World. Journal of Interdisciplinary History 23.3, pp. 475–94. Steinsland, Gro 2000. Den hellige kongen. Om religion og herskermakt fra vikingtid til middelalder. Oslo. Tambiah, S. J. 1900. Magic, Science, Religion and the Scope of Rationality. Cam- bridge. Reviews 165 Book Reviews

Life-mode Concepts in Play Viewed from this angle, the Danish Jesper Graubæk Andresen: Formbegre- life-form analysis tradition can be ber i spil. En videreudvikling af livs- marked out as an oddity, working its formsanalytiske tanker. Det humanistis- way the other way around, so to speak, ke fakultet. Københavns Universitet. not inductive as most cultural analysis is 2010. 175 pp. Diss. these days, but deductive, not a fusion but a fission theory, not bottom-up, but I might be the wrong kind of reviewer top-down, starting from a few or even for this dissertation, which for me has just one concept at the top of a hierar- been both a puzzle and a challenge, chy, not working with small bits and since I am what the doctoral student in pieces of cultural evidence and contexts question, Jesper Graubæk Andresen, as micro historians, for instance, tend to might call a postmodern, relativistic cul- do, but instead creating or trying to tural analyst (or in my case folklorist). create a coherent theory around certain On the other hand, I think it is important conceptual set pieces, which are thought as a researcher to leave your own com- to reveal a deep structure or maybe su- fort zone as often as possible – and that perstructure of a given society, a theory is why I have tried to come to grips with not interested in discussing a classic this book, and not only the book, but the dualism of structure and agency as in whole tradition of analysis and theory e.g. interactionalism of the kind associ- called life-mode analysis, a theory with ated with names such as Goffman, a peculiarly Danish and structuralist- Barth, Jenkins, Cohen and others, but dialectic bent, which, to put it bluntly, establishing and developing a type of re- feels quite at odds with the main tradi- search which of course has a history of tion of cultural analysis today. The its own and quite an interesting one for mainstream in cultural analysis has in that matter, one which it would be my view moved more and more towards tempting to look at from a cultural-his- forms of analysis acknowledging the torical point of view. subjectivity of the researcher and at the The building blocks of this bold and same time letting loose the play of con- far-reaching theoretical complex consist cepts in a way not possible maybe only mainly of a tradition going back not only a few decades ago. I am thinking of to Hegel and Marx (who might be con- books such as Mieke Bal’s Travelling sidered materialists and/or idealists, de- Concepts in the Humanities (2002), Vin- pending on the tendencies underlined in cent Crapanzano’s Imaginative Hori- an assessment of their work), but as far zons (2004), Doreen Massey’s For back as Aristotle, and above all the Space (2005) and Nigel Thrift’s Non- Danish structural linguist Louis Hjelm- Representational Theory (2007), to slev and the French structuralist thinker name but a few examples of such theor- Louis Althusser, and as to newer tenden- etically influential books within this cies in its internal theory build-up, the field of theorizing. war theorist Carl von Clausewitz. Espe- 166 Reviews cially the variation on Althusser’s the- central concept in the theory). Although, ory of interpellation seems to be impor- as Højrup notes, these life-modes con- tant to life-mode analysis, as is also evi- trast with each other culturally, taken to- dent in Andresen’s thesis. A central con- gether they constitute each others’ concept in the theory’s building process of ditions of possibility in a self-reproduc- life-form analysis – of which the ethnol- ing social mode of existence. ogist Thomas Højrup is the main expo- An important question in my way of nent (the other being his compatriot, thinking is concerned with how these physicist Anders Boserup) – is what this kinds of macro claims made by the the- tradition calls “an intensional terminal ory can be validated, if they can at all, concept”, that is a conceptual endpoint and what kind of explanation value that (and maybe also a starting point) which kind of conceptual building process has the important objective of locking might have. And when the next logical the free play of concepts in the theory, or step in this research process is the under- as it is often (or almost compulsorily) standing of the different life-modes practised in life-mode analysis, in a con- identified being in principle blind to cept laboratory in which the main con- each other, then I begin to wonder if cepts of the theory are set up to be such a world view is comprehensive cleansed from a historicist or relativistic enough and feasible at all. And to start background into one in which the con- with a very simple question, how many cepts are tested as to their potential might the life-modes in a given society value for the theory. To cite Højrup (in be? Are there any terminals concerning State, Culture and Life-Modes (2003): such a question, might there be an end- “The solution offered by life-mode an- less chain of life-forms emerging and alysis to the paradox of the culture con- declining, or are they rather few and cept demands an unusual mode of think- easily identified? Højrup leans towards ing. This solution, although building this latter alternative. In his classic writ- upon the ‘mode of production-social ten in this tradition, Det glemte folk, formation’ concepts of historical mate- from 1989, there are two main life- rialism, also transcends it. Life-mode modes in a preliminary phase of the analysis combines ethnological field- analysis: the rural and the urban ones; work with concepts from the theory of after that four distinct life-modes are science to elaborate a new concept of identified: the independent life-mode, class. From being a classificatory con- the employee’s life-form, the career life- cept, ‘class’ is transformed into what form and the bourgeois life-form. In a philosophers call an intensional terminal later Swedish revision of the life-mode concept.” theory, called realistic life-form analy- As he explains this kind of develop- sis, more emphasis is put on concepts ment work, as with the example of the such as gender and love, and the life- concept of class, it transforms group, modes are multiplied to eight, divided subculture or class analysis into a dialec- evenly between male and female life- tical life-mode analysis. Instead of clas- forms. In Jesper Andresen’s thesis there sifying empirical data, the analysis elab- are eleven life-modes to be reckoned orates structures of theoretical relations with. These are the wage worker, the and their conceptual end-points or “in- employer, the independent entrepreneur, tensional terminals”, which indeed is a the career person, the clerk, the house- term derived from the theory of science. wife, the full bourgeois, the feudal peas- So, as the theory goes, for each mode of ant, the nobility, the shepherd and the production, life-mode analysis develops hunter/gatherer. distinct life-modes, each containing a What is central to Andresen in the conceptual world and praxis (another life-modes analysed is not how they are Reviews 167 represented in the concrete world or in modes themselves as the recognized the myriad of possibilities and challeng- part. es of everyday life. A life-mode does not Interestingly enough, Andresen notes in his opinion have a precise size such as that life-mode analysis has its shortcom- e.g. an institution, an association or a ings. It has for instance not up to now state. What is important for Andresen in been able to capture the general rules the theory is how thoroughly and coher- which could be applied to specific and ently the singular life-modes are con- rather permanent constructions such as a structed. The main idea is that every city or a religious sect, or, I might add, a life-mode can be read as having a rela- language group. Being myself a Fin- tion to the state, which in the system is land-Swede I might wonder how a group the interpellating, sovereign power or such as the one I belong to fares in this subject, while the other subjects are de- kind of analysis. It is difficult for me to pendent on this “ultimate force” which see how the question of language could grounds its status on its ability to defend be theorized in this context. In my own “its” subjects against attacks from the research on Swedish and Swedishness in outside, quite literally in matters of life Finland, I have used a concept borrowed and death. This is then part of a newer from Gregory Bateson, namely double phase of the theory and is related to a bind, as a way of understanding the reading of the German war theorist von sometimes rather psychologically Clausewitz. strained relations between Finnish and The pivotal moment in life-mode the- Swedish in Finland. From a life-mode ory for Andresen is whether the analytical point of view such a concept life-mode in question is able to form a might be seen as a kind of psychologiza- whole with an everyday praxis of its tion which has no room in a structural, own, and with a permanence which can materialistic, dialectic and holistic be secured and when needed defended, model as the one life-mode theory of- in order to be what in this respect is cen- fers. tral, a permanently recognized subject. At the same time as one might be able And vice versa, if the life-mode in ques- to look upon Swedishness in Finland as tion is not able to defend itself, then in many ways a mirror image of Finnish- from a life-mode analytic point of view ness (and vice versa), there are also traits it is just a matter of time before the which make the two groups quite differ- worldview which the life-mode repre- ent. Does that mean that in a country and sents has vanished. a state with two official language groups The rereading Andresen performs in such as Finland one should expect to his thesis as to the question of the inter- meet a redoubling of the number of pellation relation leads him to the con- life-modes? clusion that this relation can be under- In the penultimate chapter of Andre- stood in a most consistent way as an in- sen’s book the author offers an outline terpellative praxis relation of recogni- of a life-mode analytical cultural analy- tion, if one understands it not as a sis of developments in Greenland, start- relation between the state and each and ing from the concept of a hunter life- every individual, but between the state mode and moving into a discussion of and the different life-modes, which are recent trends in the problematic con- then seen as primary recognition rela- cerning independence in Greenland. tions. Although the interpellative recog- Studying Greenland from the point of nition relation in life-mode analytical view of life-mode analysis in the shape thinking is seen as a relation to an indi- it has taken lately (starting from Hegel, vidual subject, this subject will in An- Clausewitz and the idea of “the survival dresen’s reading consist of the life- of the superior defence”, as it is called in 168 Reviews life-mode theory) will in my view lead the sense that the field consists of, as to a transposition of the theory in order Andresen puts it, the pressures which for it to fit into a framework concerning the coherent (theory) puts upon the a society which did not previously have non-coherent (the empirical). any enemies to speak of (other than na- My main objection as regards the ture!). Andresen’s chapter on Greenland relevance of the life-mode analytical is interesting reading, especially seen as model offered here and in Højrup’s a cultural-historical essay on specific many books concerns something which Greenlandic predicaments and belief I find is forgotten or repressed in the systems. My lack of knowledge about analysis: the question of destabilization, Greenland makes it impossible for me to of the possibilities and complications of evaluate the relevance of his study in a future, a utopia, something which also this respect. concerns reading and interpretation of In the concluding chapter of his thesis ontological complexes such as sover- Andresen notes that life-mode analysis eignty (a central concept in life-mode stresses that the only thing a science can theory) and coherence/uncertainty. be judged by is its simplicity, its thor- Reading these texts on life-mode oughness and its lack of internal contra- analysis with a deconstructive intent as I dictions. Andresen says that his work have done, I cannot but ponder on some- primarily concerns the search for a thing Jacques Derrida writes in the sec- greater internal coherence of the theory, ond volume of his books on the theme of which must be understood from the The Beast & the Sovereign (2011): point of view of how it manages to order “In spite of this identity and this dif- the rules of the concepts of the theory. ference, neither animals of different spe- His conclusion is that the intensional ter- cies, nor humans of different cultures, minal concept cannot so much be about nor any animal or human individual in- a sovereign state subject as of different habit the same world as another, how- forms of reciprocally connected rela- ever close and similar these living indi- tions of recognition, i.e. a model build- viduals may be (be they humans or ani- ing upon a reading of Althusser’s inter- mals), and the difference between one pellation concept. world and another will remain always The central task of Andresen’s thesis unbridgeable, because the community of seems to be to study how the three fields the world is always constructed, simu- which can be said to emerge within the lated by a set of stabilizing apparatuses, theory – what he calls the theory labora- more or less stable, then, and never tory, the model laboratory and the field- natural, language in the broad sense, work – are made to influence each other codes of traces being designed, among reciprocally. In practice the field must all living beings, to construct a unity of always depend on an enormous variety the world that is always de-construct- of ambiguities, despite the researcher’s ible, nowhere and never given in nature. theoretical gaze in the first place. The Between my world, the ‘my world’, kind of ordering and cleansing taking what I call ‘my world’ – and there is no place in the middle category, the model other for me, as any other world is part laboratory, is decisive for Andresen’s of it – between my world and any other analysis. Here the model analysis of the world there is first the space and the time theory laboratory meets the heterogene- of an infinite difference, an interruption ity of the field. What remains problem- that is incommensurable with all at- atic in my reading is that the field in tempts to make a passage, a bridge, an life-mode theory cannot have an inde- isthmus, all attempts at communication, pendent status of its own, but must be translation, trope, and transfer that the seen as a kind of conceptual realism in desire for a world or the want of a world, Reviews 169 the being wanting a world will try to great interest; Biskop’s perspective is pose, impose, propose, stabilize. There therefore largely that of dance studies is no world, there are only islands.” and dance history, and in this respect the So, when read through this lens, fo- dissertation is groundbreaking, yielding cusing on the instability of signification, much new knowledge and suggesting something which might be seen as a new frameworks of understanding. product of the metaphorical nature of The field differs both from traditional signs, the life-mode cultural analysis be- folk dance and from the later organized comes a rather problematic attempt at folk-dance movement, although there is creating a kind of scientific stability a link with the latter. The field is not a which in the end is impossible, although part of the upper class’s customary ball- the theory itself seems to be open to end- room dancing or social life, although it less variations on its central concepts. At may have influenced that. Nor is it part the same time, though – and this also ap- of the dance teacher’s main repertoire, plies to Andresen’s thesis – it is not open even though teachers use the dances to for debate as to the internal logic of its some extent. It is thus something rather quite distinct form of analysis and im- exceptional. plicit world view. From the beginnings as a distinctive phenomenon, a practice of considerable Sven-Erik Klinkmann dimensions emerged, with a signifi- Vasa, Finland cance that extended far beyond the upper class in the capital. The dissertation tells of the distance and nearness between the classes, and of how the dance Dancing for an Audience teachers’ expertise and the dancing Gunnel Biskop: Dansen för åskådare. practice of the upper class also became Intresset för folkdansen som estrad- the foundation. Biskop then follows the produkt och insamlingsobjekt hos den thread up to the establishment of folk- svenskspråkiga befolkningen i Finland dance organizations in the early twen- under senare delen av 1800-talet. Åbo tieth century and thus sets up a new con- Akademi förlag, Åbo 2012. 368 pp. Ill. text for these. English summary. Diss. Biskop looks at the first event that acted as a trigger, the annual party of the Biskop’s doctoral dissertation, with its Artists’ Association of Finland (Konst- unusual wealth of illustrations, portrays närsgillet) in 1866. She considers folk- a field in the Finland-Swedish dance music contexts, theatrical contexts, culture between 1866 and 1906, but events with an economic purpose such looks both backwards and for the phe- as lottery parties . She highlights actors nomenon studied here, lies partly be- such as the dialect associations and gen- tween, partly outside the major dance res such as local community soirées, and genres that are usually considered in a various elements of the emerging organ- European context: traditional or folk ized folk-dance movement. The system- dance, organized folk dance, theatrical atization of the context seem to build on dance, ballroom dancing, etc. The dis- what the material happens to provide sertation gives insight into how the up- about the phenomena rather than on any per class among Swedish speakers in systematic classification. This attitude Finland put dances and costumes in- seems typical – the material steers the spired by folk culture on stage under study. names such as costume dance or na- The dissertation is empirically based. tional dance. Dance is rarely considered It builds on a close reading of large in folklore studies and is not a focus of amounts of often fragmentary sources. 170 Reviews This is combined with hermeneutic spi- pressed and substantiated strategy that is rals. We see a continuous circle dance consistently implemented, with close between the close reading, which pro- reading and thick description as the most vides pieces for the meticulous work of important instruments. It may be debat- building a complex puzzle, the herme- ed whether a doctoral dissertation must neutic approach, and purposeful search- be constructed with a heavy theoretical es for new sources that gradually yield interpretive framework, and whether colourful pictures. Biskop’s explicit strategy is a weakness The dissertation opens an unknown in this respect. chapter in the history of dance, giving us important new knowledge. Costume Egil Bakka dance as described by Biskop is a dis- Trondheim, Norway tinctive element in the history of dance but it has hardly ever been described. We do not know whether there are comparable phenomena in other Nordic or Collecting Field Material in the Nine- European countries, but the dissertation teenth Century may stimulate completely new perspec- Palle Ove Christiansen: De forsvundne. tives on the roots of organized folk Hedens siste fortællere. Gads forlag, dance in Europe. København 2011. 237 pp. Ill. Biskop’s dissertation is pioneering in its extensive use of digitized archival The schoolteacher Evald Tang Kristen- sources, chiefly newspapers. This is a sen (1843–1929) was a great collector of new resource has that not been utilized folklore in Denmark at the end of the much hitherto in dance studies. In the nineteenth century. In this book Palle past researchers have read and excerpted Ove Christiansen of the Danish Folklore newspapers, but the potential of system- Archives in Copenhagen describes the atic searches of digitized material is journeys on foot undertaken by this col- something completely different. lector in 1873. He visited poor people, Biskop’s reading of the material both women and men, in some of the shifts the focus away from the conven- sparsely populated districts on the Jut- tional theoretical interpretive frame- land heath, where the vegetation was works, for example that of nation build- dominated by heather. The informants ing. She identifies and studies the his- had small patches of land to cultivate. torical individuals and the events, con- Some of them earned a living as crafts- centrating on their motivation, circum- men, for example, as weavers or tailors. stances, and context. This lets the grand Those who were worst off were given a theories form a backdrop. For this re- small payment for assisting with the col- viewer, the result is an exciting and de- lecting of the material. manding contrast to much of today’s re- Tang Kristensen sought out people of search practice. This is post-modern cri- whom he had heard that they could tell tique encountering itself, as it were, in old stories and legends or that they could reverse. It is critique from below, from sing folksongs and ballads. He was care- practice. ful to note down different variants of the In the dissertation Biskop refers to a tales and songs. In 1876 some of the col- great deal of scholarly literature to justi- lected legends were published in Jyske fy her choice of method and to support Folkesagn, which according to the au- her claims. In this way she has a good thor Tang Kristensen were “collected foundation for her methodological ap- from the mouth of the people”. The aim proach, without constructing large the- was to make the material available to the oretical edifices. This is a clearly ex- general public. Some of the collected Reviews 171 tales and songs are quoted in their en- Christiansen commissioned the art pho- tirety in the book reviewed here. tographer Henrik Saxgren to take pic- Some of the informants were not just tures of the places where collecting had good storytellers and singers but also been done in 1873. In some cases the in- practised folk medicine. They did this formants’ simple dwellings still survive with the aid of hand-written magic today. This new collection provides ad- books that they owned. These old folk ditional information compared to the traditions were combated, however, by photographic portraits from 1895. the Home Mission, a pietist revival The merit of this book is that the movement that began to grow vigorous- reader is able to follow the work of a ly after 1870. Tang Kristensen had per- great folklore collector in an early phase sonal experience of this opposition sev- of collecting at the end of the nineteenth eral times during his collecting travels. century. Tang Kristensen left detailed Once an old mother was prevented from notes about his contacts with the inform- telling old stories and singing folksongs ants in different field situations and thus by her son who belonged to the Home did not just present the material he col- Mission. The old traditions were regard- lected. Posterity has not hitherto known ed as pagan, the work of the devil. Bal- so much about the field methodology lad singers who joined the Home Mis- and collecting contexts of the time. sion turned to more religious material, influenced by their faith in God and a Anders Gustavsson longing for the life to come, but Tang Oslo, Norway/Henån, Sweden Kristensen was not much interested in these new songs. He wanted to search out the old traditions while they still survived among the common people. He Narratives around Karelianism? thought he was on a rescue expedition. Outi Fingerroos: Karjala utopiana [Ka- Tang Kristensen was acting on behalf relia – A Place of Utopias]. Nykykult- of the language scholar Sven Grundtvig tuurin tutkimuskeskuksen julkaisuja (1824–1883) at Copenhagen University, 100. Jyväskylän yliopiston Nykykult- with whom he was in constant contact. tuurin tutkimuskeskus, Jyväskylä 2010. Grundtvig gave continuous commentary Ill. Maps. on the newly collected material and wrote letters of encouragement to the Karjala utopiana is a new study by Outi collector out in the field. Fingerroos. The study is an analysis of a In 1895 Tang Kristensen returned to Karelia in time and place. Karelia has a the same area that he had visited in utopian side, which is linked to Finnish 1873. With the help of the photographer nation building at the end of the 19th cen- Peter Olsen, the previously recorded in- tury. The concept of Karelianism was formants were photographed in their born as a result of this movement. Re- everyday surroundings. These photo- cently, the subject of Karelianism has graphs are reproduced in the book, and received much scholarly attention. The Tang Kristensen had some of them pub- largest part of Finnish Karelia, including lished in 1898 in the magazine Illust- the Karelian Isthmus and the city of Vy- reret Tidende. Moreover, the artist Hans borg, was for the most part ceded to the Smidth painted the barren natural scen- Soviet Union as a result of a peace treaty ery and some of the simple houses that in 1947 in Paris. The event meant disap- Tang Kristensen visited. Many of these pointment for 400 000 Karelian evacu- works are published in colour in the ees, who were resettled in other parts of book; they date from the 1860s and a Finland. Soon, the evacuees began to few decades onwards. In 2010 Palle Ove adapt to their new home districts and 172 Reviews later scholars have closely studied their and reality are incoherent and fragmen- memories of the events. They have pro- tary by nature, she points out. By analys- vided plenty of historical analyses about ing some extracts from historical mate- the various phases of the Winter War rials, the researcher illustrates the pro- (1939–40) and the Continuation War cess of utopia in time. The source mate- (1941–44) in the Karelian Isthmus or the rials consist of literary texts, newspaper huge evacuation process or resettlement articles and other contemporary docu- politics in Finland. Karelian culture and ments. The cases that Fingerroos has various representations of it have flour- chosen to focus on represent turning ished in different national arenas for points in Finnish nation building and decades. Of course, I have merely pro- history between 1918 and 2007: “The vided a rough outline of the historical exceptional death of the composer background to the study, and, to a cer- Toivo Kuula in 1918”, “Lost Finnish tain extent, Fingerroos continues with soldiers in June 1944” and “Karelia as the same subject that she pursued in her narrated by a woman”. The last case is a doctoral dissertation (Buried memories, concrete example of the concept of uto- 2004), which dealt with the meanings of pia being located some place in the pre- death rituals in oral traditions from the sent. Karelian Isthmus. In this new study, she Toivo Kuula was shot in Vyborg by a considers the concept of utopia as it ap- soldier from the whites. The silenced plies to the Karelian region. case in memoires is a good example of Utopias are human imaginations of how do public memory work. The Civil happiness, aspirations for a better future War in Finland in 1918 had led to a in different places and times. In addi- sharp division of the people into two po- tion, utopias can be seen as concrete litical parties: the whites and the reds. constructions of a place and, therefore, The deaths of members of the commu- they are connected to the political and nist red group soon became a taboo sub- ideological context of the place. The ject for Finns, especially to members of idea of utopia is imagined, but some- the democratic white group, who won times utopias become real during pe- the civil war and were responsible for riods of reform or revolution within a the deaths. To his contemporaries, society. Toivo Kuula was a typical figure from Furthermore, the concepts of “place” Osthrobotnia and a national hero. Cru- and “place of memory” are important in cial details of his unusual death were the study. Both concepts refer to the buried because it suited the purposes of memory work which is linked to places the nationalists and peace makers. The and the experiences that surround such same kind of process happened when places. The evacuated Karelians, many atypical deaths of red soldiers in Vyborg of whom are already quite advanced in were kept silent in the name of national their age, are associated with “lost cohesion. After several decades, a new homes” and “lost home districts”. By memory process was repeated again in stressing the aspect of locatedness in the same manner; this time they had to their memories, Fingerroos gives a spe- do with public memories of the soldiers cial hermeneutic spirit to her study as a lost during Second World War in Vy- contrast to her critical aim in the meth- borg. The facts of the story kept silent. odology. Also, many tragic events happened in Fingerroos has carefully considered June 1944 in Vyborg and the fate of her choice of methodology. She seeks to many Finnish soldiers who escaped capture certain moments of history ra- from the front into the forests during the ther than to collect evidence for some Russian attack has occasionally been a extensive analytical synthesis. History hot topic with respect to the war. Ama- Reviews 173 teur historians have actively debated the Within the context of Karelianism, fate of “Vyborg in 1944” in public are- memories are reconstructed based on nas. Fingerroos is an oral historian and uncertain interpretations. Do the memo- she pays special attention to their writ- ries contradict the facts? ings. Amateur historians have the same Outi Fingerroos does not answer, or right to debate the history of Karelia as she does not want to answer, questions professional historians. Based on this about the final truth about Karelianism, material, she argues that the Eastern city but she does raise interesting questions of Vyborg became a mythical and sym- with her concepts. The need to decon- bolical place for Finns after the war. struct the idea of coherent narratives of The concept of Karelianism, which history-politics surrounding Karelian- Hannes Sihvo focused on in his 1973 ism is an obvious target of the study, but doctoral dissertation, has a key role in her own self-identification as being a the study. The concept refers to the quarter Karelian is paradoxically linked strong power of national ideology and to the original idea of Karelianism. its long tradition. Karelianism was a na- Maybe this is the force behind the new tionalistic project and, as such, it helps Karelianism. explain the coherent Karelian story, which includes utopian characteristics Terhi Pietiläinen as memories. Aspects of the Karelian Helsinki, Finland utopia can be found in discussions about returning Karelia to Finns. Aspects of the Karelian utopia also include such concrete dimensions as imaginations of East and West as Constructions Karelia as a place: paintings and writ- Sofi Gerber: Öst är Väst men Väst är ings. Time and again, the concept of Ka- bäst. Östtysk identitetsformering i det relianism has been important to the iden- förenade Tyskland. Stockholm, Stock- tities constructed by the evacuated Ka- holms Universitet 2011. (Acta Universi- relians and their descendants; Finger- tatis Stockholmiensis. Stockholm Stu- roos also admits to being Karelian dies in Ethnology 5, Södertörn Doctoral herself. Having a Karelian background Dissertations 54.) 248 pp. Ill. English seems to be one argument for participat- summary. Diss. ing in discussions about Karelianism, many of which are being renewed today. In a time of cultural research dominated Fingerroos carefully describes her posi- by thoughts about deconstruction and tion and situation in the epistemology of constructionism, Sofi Gerber published the study. Furthermore, she builds her her doctoral dissertation about the rela- concepts skilfully, and with the concept tionship between East and West in Ger- of utopia Fingerroos uncovers the dy- many. She interviewed twenty-five per- namic nature of ideological Karelian- sons (fifteen women and ten men) who ism. were born in the German Democratic However, there are also some fruitful Republic (GDR) between 1970 and contradictions in the use of concepts 1979. The interviews were conducted within the study. The author of the study between 2005 and 2007, which means underlines the fact that memories are that the interviewees were young adults, fragmentary and occur intermittently. who were able to tell about their child- Narrated memories of the past are repro- hood in the GDR and relate their lives duced as coherent and they may lead us then and there to their ways of living in to construct one-sided interpretations a unified Germany of today. based on them. On the other hand, nar- This book is very well written. Ger- rated memories may also be incoherent. ber’s aim “is to show how people who 174 Reviews grew up in the GDR define the East and critically, and after having introduced a the West in unified Germany, as well as concept she sticks to her own definitions ascertaining which concepts play a role and theoretical perspectives throughout in the self-interpretations given by for- the book. mer GDR citizens, with respect to their Gerber interviewed a couple of understanding of their past and the people who told her something about views they hold presently about the so- their lives. Consequently, she was able ciety in which they live”. Her investiga- to define her ethical standpoints well. tion is filled with relevant, modern and She also explains her fieldwork clearly, even trendy theories. This, however, conscious of all conceivable problem- does not impress me so much, for most atic situations. She seized on linguistic, of the doctoral theses of today look like non-linguistic and material aspects in that. What really strikes me is the matu- the interviews, which means that she lis- rity that Sofi Gerber demonstrates. Her tened to what was said, she was aware of use of up-to-the-minute theories really the semiotic communication, and she reveals something interesting, for it was observant of what the contents of demonstrates how the interviewees ne- the interviews were about. One could gotiate with themselves, and partly also say that the East was grey. “Grey” cer- with her, about their innermost thoughts tainly means the colour, but also bore- and experiences in connection with the dom, monotony, specific smells, back- changes in German society. Her inter- wardness, and conformism. However, views are free, people speak about what- she maintains that East and West are ever they start thinking about in the in- concepts that are filled with varying terview situation. This means that the meanings depending on the situation in material is big, and probably also that it which they are used in the conversation. has run somewhat wild in the same way This in turn means that grey, i.e. the as interviews in culture studies often do. GDR, is not necessarily always a bad There is a methodological problem place. Her interviewees are very contra- when one sits with a large corpus of ma- dictory in their formulations about their terial dealing with a variety of themes, lives back then, in the GDR. For in- trying to find a structure in, or for, it. stance, on the one hand they tell her how Gerber succeeds very well. She makes a it was a grey, shabby, boring, sup- chronological analysis starting with the pressed society. On the other hand they stories about the interviewees’ child- negotiate with themselves about their hoods, their experience of die Wende ability to adjust to necessities and, at the (the turning point), and of the changed same time, allow for thoughts and acts country. On the one hand, however, of protest within limits, and in that way within these parts of the dissertation, they stand out as individuals, different Sofi Gerber uses quite a lot of concepts from most of the inhabitants. At least found in the interviews as her analytical this is what they would like Gerber to tools. In this way she remains close to think, although almost everybody had her material. On the other hand she is the same feeling of being different from well informed when it comes to analyti- all others. Participation, adaptation, re- cal tools found in general theoretical lit- sistance and powerlessness are central erature about issues such as dislocation, concepts, but the interviewees demon- post-colonialism, discourse analysis, ar- strate themselves as strong people who ticulation modes, identification methods acted strategically in a difficult situation and, perhaps, intersectionality. Gerber so that they can still retain their self-es- combines common sense with high-fly- teem. They are careful in not demon- ing theories in a very successful way. strating any “ostalgia”, i.e. nostalgia for She presents her thoughts clearly and the GDR (German Ost meaning east), Reviews 175 for that is not for young people, but only even see what happened on television for the previous generation. Gerber finds that evening, but he went to bed! The that class is a good tool for categoriza- fact that Gerber tells about this – one tion, but also that class today does not would almost like to call it stupidity – really cover the same as it did in the demonstrates how conscientious she GDR era. The interviewees are also pru- was when she analysed her material. She dent when they try to express them- is not content with what is said, she also selves about life in the unified Germany: looks for what is not said. it is not evident in all cases that it is bet- The book is in Swedish, but all the ter than it was in the GDR. Contrasting quotations are provided in German as East and West is one of the main tech- well. The summary in English is easy to niques when constructing the two, but read, concentrated and clear as it is. The East is not always worse than West, and list of references is more generous than West is not at all something to long for usual, for it refers to German ethnologi- uncritically. The interviewees even cal research besides the classical works think that East was the norm in their in English. All in all, I am happy to have childhood, for everybody’s life was the had the opportunity to read this disserta- same. tion. Gerber demonstrates how people think, how they negotiate and balance Ulrika Wolf-Knuts their speech. Her interpretations never Åbo (Turku), Finland end at the first possible understanding. She always leads her readers even deeper into the meanings of what was said, and in this way she demonstrates The Culture of Death and Dying how difficult it is to tell what is positive, Anders Gustavsson: Cultural Studies on and what is not positive in life. Every- Death and Dying in Scandinavia. Novus thing has at least two sides. Press, Oslo 2011. 215 pp. Ill. All through the book, Gerber presents her readers with a description of what Death and religious matters have for a happened in German politics from the long time been a major research interest 1970s until today. This is good, for for Anders Gustavsson, emeritus profes- otherwise it would be difficult to grasp sor of cultural history at the Department how different people talk in relation to of Culture Studies and Oriental Lan- “political reality”. We have the same guages, Oslo University, who retired in phenomenon in life stories from war- 2011. In the 1980s he wrote about drink- time Finland. The civil population tells ing to the memory of the dead at funerals about their everyday life as if it was not (Minnesdrickning vid begravning, Upp- at all influenced by international poli- sala University). In recent years he has tics, although bombs were dropped on done a number of studies about folk re- their own home town. Sitting in a shelter ligiosity, and about symbols and inscrip- all night through is often mentioned only tions on gravestones; the latter resulted in passing. Some of Gerber’s interview- in a book published in 2003, Gravstenar ees ponder upon this phenomenon: The i Norge och i Sverige som symboler för Turning Point that is regarded as one of känslor, tankar och idéer i vår egen tid. the greatest events in modern Western In 2009 he edited a volume about death history was not important to some of in current culture studies, Döden them. They did not understand or really speglad i aktuell kulturforskning, based internalize what happened. One of them on chiefly Nordic lectures given in Oslo lived five hundred metres away from in 2008. Recently he has also pointed the one of the most active places. He could searchlight at expressions of beliefs 176 Reviews about dead pets and about postings on and Swedish gravestones, according to various memorial sites on the Internet. the author, is that expressly Christian Looking from several different symbols and pictures occur much more angles, this book considers death and as- frequently on Norwegian than Swedish sociated rituals, burials, and mourning. gravestones. The words “God”, “Jesus” Many of these research findings have and “Lord”, or quotations from the Bible previously been available only in Swe- are more commonly seen in Norway dish, so a publication in English is wel- than in Sweden on gravestones of the come for helping to spread the know- late twentieth century. ledge more widely. The book is richly il- By studying inscriptions and pictorial lustrated, well laid out, and easily ac- symbols on gravestones, the author cessible. highlights today’s widespread beliefs In just over 200 pages the author pre- about the encounter with dead people. A sents ten research projects, each of striking difference can be observed be- which is given its own chapter. Topics tween Norwegian and Swedish grave- include nineteenth-century views of stones. Thoughts about seeing the dead death and ways of handling death, sym- person again are much more explicit and bols and inscriptions on gravestones in expressed more frequently on Norwe- Norway and Sweden in the 1990s, the gian than Swedish graves. “På gjensyn” significance of the different senses in re- (Until we meet again), for example, can ligious ceremonies, as well as people’s be found on Norwegian gravestones, choice of symbols on pets’ graves. The whereas the Swedish counterpart, ac- last three chapters deal with how beliefs cording to Gustavsson’s study, is rare, are expressed on Internet memorial sites although it does occur, especially in in Norway, Sweden, and Germany. Gus- districts affected by revival movements tavsson has chosen to study people’s within the state church or in free ideas about life after death, messages re- churches in the late nineteenth century. lated to people who have committed The author writes that biblical quota- suicide, and expressions of beliefs about tions and verses from hymns only occur dead pets. sporadically, especially on the grave- The book begins with a section about stones of clergymen. In my ongoing re- the rural outlook on death and associated search on Swedish cast-iron grave rituals during the nineteenth century. monuments from the nineteenth century Gustavsson gives an interesting descrip- this is not the case; on the contrary, bib- tion of how different people were treat- lical quotations and hymn verses are ed, and how the rituals differed after very common, not only on clergymen’s death, taking as examples the deaths of graves. It would be an interesting re- royals, of people who died in the cholera search task to find out when this change epidemic, of women who died in child- began. birth, and of stillborn children. In the The significance of the senses is dis- chapter about symbols on Norwegian cussed by Gustavsson in the chapter and Swedish gravestones, which is “Death and the Use of the Senses in Re- based on the research project “Symbols ligious Revival Movements”. Here he of Death”, he studies differences be- briefly elucidates how the senses of tween the gravestone culture of the two sight and taste have been used in differ- neighbouring countries, and the under- ent religious contexts from the nine- lying causes, as reflected in the choice of teenth century to the present day. The pictures and symbols, obituaries, in- study is based on Gustavsson’s own scriptions, and objects as an explanation fieldwork, especially in coastal areas of of people’s thoughts and ideas. One ma- western Sweden, but also looking at jor difference between the Norwegian Norway and Estonia. This chapter feels Reviews 177 short and could well have been more de- The book ends with reviews of six tailed given that he has written about ethnologists’ works on the theme of this topic before, but for Swedish-speak- death: Brita Lundgren’s Oväntad död: ing readers. En etnologisk studie av sörjandets pro- The chapter “Symbols on Feline cesser (2006), Ingeborg Svensson’s Li- Graves in a Comparative Perspective” ket i garderoben: En studie av sexuali- deals with the close links between pets tet, livsstil och begravning (2007), and and people, looking at a sample of pets’ Eva Karlsson’s Livet nära döden: Situa- graves at animal cemeteries in Paris, tioner, status och social solidaritet vid Lisbon, and Gothenburg. The section is vård i livets slutskede (2008). Gustavs- more exhaustive than the previous one, son also reviews two Norwegian works although here too I would have liked to and one German: Kyrre Kverndokk’s see a more detailed analysis. Norwegian School Tours to Nazi Con- One chapter is devoted to rituals con- centration Camps (2007), Cora Alexa nected with sudden death. This is il- Døving’s Norska immigranters be- lustrated with several poignant photo- gravningsritualer: Norsk-pakistanska graphs of mourning relatives, as well as begravningsritualer (2005) and Chris- pictures of monuments and photographs tine Aka’s Unfallkreuze: Trauerorte am of the deceased. Gustavsson says that Strassenrand (2007). death in our time has become less private and secret than it was at the start of Ritwa Herjulfsdotter the twentieth century, and this is even Visby, Sweden more obvious in connection with sudden deaths. One section is about messages written on Norwegian and Swedish In- ternet memorial sites for people who Portrait of a Folk Artist have committed suicide. There are fewer Anders Gustavsson: The folk-life artist of these in Norway than in Sweden. Ac- Carl Gustaf Bernhardson. Novus forlag, cording to the author, this indicates that Oslo 2011. 56 pp. Ill. the former taboo and shame is still stronger in Norway than in Sweden. He This book tells at least three parallel sto- believes that older traditions have sur- ries. First there is the story about the life vived longer in Norway than in Sweden and deeds of Carl Gustaf Bernhardson, a also when it comes to other things than seaman, fisherman, farm worker and Internet pages. In Sweden there is a dis- more, who was also a painter. He was tinct tendency to adopt innovations and born in 1915 and died in 1998. Bern- abandon old traditions. This can be seen, hardson seems to have been a restless for example, in the use of symbols on man, living alone all of his life and also gravestones, the lack of animal ceme- uninterested in taking part in the modern teries in Norway, and the fact that there world and life. My impression is rather are fewer Norwegian memorial sites for that he tried to isolate himself and to dead animals on the Internet. Moreover, avoid contact with the world around the Norwegian messages on pages like him. this are fewer, shorter, and less emotion- The second story is the one Carl Gus- al than those in Sweden. Norwegian me- taf Bernhardson wants to tell us with morial sites about dead relatives have his paintings, and this is to remind us of more Christian elements than their the hard life primarily of the women Swedish counterparts. Gustavsson men- farmers and fishermen’s wives on the tions reasons for the greater degree of Swedish west coast in the first half of the secularization and increased individual- twentieth century. The paintings and the ism in Sweden compared to Norway. comments on the back of them are small 178 Reviews windows into the history of older people gan past through characters and memo- that Bernhardson lived with and lis- ries from the “days of yore” (fornöld – tened to from his childhood onwards. rather than the immediate Christian past Even if he painted primarily in his older or the pagan period leading up to the days, and the motifs are retrospective conversion) when things were more since they were created many years after dangerous and on a different scale from they “happened”, they do say something the writing present – which also post- about what life was like many years ear- dates the narrative present by several lier. The pictures are also, at least partly, centuries. The tales that are analysed are based on his own beliefs and experi- Nornagests þáttr, the Ögvaldsnes epi- ences, especially when it comes to draw- sode, Óláfs þáttr Geirstaðaálfs, Óðinn ings of underwater merpeople, ghosts came to King Óláfr with deception and and other supernatural beings. trickery and Tóka þáttr Tókasonar; all As a subtext there is the third story, from the sagas of King Óláfr Trygg- which is about the passionate researcher vason and King Óláfr the saint. and author of the book, Anders Gustavs- The tension between historical time son, how he met and interviewed Bern- zones becomes the focus of Kaplan’s hardson several times. For older Scandi- study, where she applies ideas from navian ethnologists and folklorists, Gus- Mary Douglas and others in order to un- tavsson is a well-known person who has derstand both how the medieval narra- done research and written a great deal tors explored the past through narrative about life and people on the west coast and how we as scholars (and even tour- of Sweden. ists) reach out for the past. This line of The book has a nice layout, contains thought takes Kaplan through Freudian around than 50 pages of text, has numer- psychoanalytic thought in order to em- ous coloured pictures and is easy to read. phasize the tension between the familiar These features together make it more of and the unfamiliar danger brought by the a gift book than a profound scholarly past into the present. The different sto- book, something we also need alongside ries analysed by Kaplan all explore the the more theoretical works. ways in which people can reach out across the barriers of time into the past Mats Nilsson through artefacts/relics and oral/written Gothenburg, Sweden information from others, looking even to present scholarly activities for analogies – for illuminating effect rather than to press a scholarly argument. Confronting the Past in Icelandic These texts in Flateyjarbók distin- Tales of Yore guish themselves from most other texts Merrill Kaplan: Thou Fearful Guest. dealing with the past in Icelandic litera- Addressing the Past in Four Tales in ture in that they confront the past with Flateyjarbók. Folklore Fellows Com- the present rather than let the narra- munications 301. Academia Scientia- tive/poetry flow undisturbed in the past rum Fennica, Helsinki 2011. 236 pp. in which it is set. Kaplan puts problems associated with that in the context of the In this book Merrill Kaplan sets out to written culture leading to the writing of explore the meaning and role of four Flateyjarbók as opposed to the oral tra- tales in a huge Icelandic codex from the dition to which the material may have late 1300s, Flateyjarbók, mostly focus- belonged at some stage – and have been ing on sagas about Christian Norwegian regarded as such by the fourteenth-cen- kings, from the end of the tenth century tury audience even though by the time onwards, which are irrupted by the pa- Flateyjarbók was written this kind of Reviews 179 material may have been more common and how cleverly at times they use their in writing than in oral tradition. This characters to address our access (or lack evokes the endless problems in folk- thereof) to the past. loristics about relics from the past which In the second part of the book Kaplan have supposedly lost or changed their focuses on witnesses to the past, be they context and thus their “original” mean- long-lived (or even dead) individuals, ing and function. These problems Kap- landscapes or artefacts of various kinds. lan very cleverly links up with the role Even though the historical accuracy of and function of the pagan gods in the the information provided by the charac- eyes and minds of late fourteenth-centu- ters of the said stories may not be correct ry people in Iceland who knew these in our usual sense of the word, Kaplan characters mainly from writings that shows that the way these characters are must already have been old for them. presented and portrayed is very much in She thus puts the analysed episodes very line with medieval ideas about eyewit- brilliantly into the conceptual frame of nesses and “ear-witnesses” and how modern scholarship about the past in the trustworthy they were considered to be. present and discusses them accordingly. The same can be observed with features Kaplan takes good care to present her in the landscape and artefacts; all pre- material to the uninitiated reader in or- sented by Kaplan with a touch of hu- der to make her work more theoretically mour and a keen eye for the problems in relevant outside the immediate field of previous scholarship, which can be asso- Old Norse. The study itself is divided ciated with its methodological approach. into three parts, first addressing the Kaplan moves on to discuss the lit- boundaries between eras/religions, and erary/generic status of her texts and es- how they are presented in narratives tablishes them in their own right without about the past, with some different and the degrading labels of genres that have threatening Other arriving from that dis- discredited the texts for different rea- tant past into the present. She shows sons in earlier scholarship – not always how important the ordering of time was applicable to contemporary thinking in Christian writings about pagan times about the texts. She then demonstrates and how fruitful it is to read the texts in how the characters and the words they their present context rather than as the speak should actually be taken (i.e. with- developed product of some other and in the text) as signs of their authenticity earlier (oral?) version(s). In so doing as real sources from and about the past, Kaplan makes the point of how the nar- concluding with the entertaining and hu- rative art can step out of the chronologi- morous value of the texts – in spite of the cal way of thinking about time, a very serious and ongoing discussion in them useful point in order to understand the about the nature of time. Finally Kaplan sophistication behind the texts. Moving discusses ideas about memory and how deeper into that pool, she shows how it is embedded in the landscape, taking thoroughly embedded in the text of up examples from mounds and place- Flateyjarbók the idea of the guest from names that serve as storehouses for the the past in the present is – a fact that memory. In the process she outlines how should relieve us from tearing the misguided many earlier commentators sources apart as many an editor has done have been because they have not read in the name of getting to the original... these narratives in their context and have This process includes ideas about the thus not realized how focused they are guest in legal texts and other narratives, on the problem of time and memory – a taking the analysis far and deep, again convincing conclusion which emerges showing how illuminating it is not to from Kaplan’s work. overlook the texts in their present form The third part of the book takes up the 180 Reviews question of echoes from the past as they vant they are – and must also have been appear in stories about the pagan chief in the late medieval context of the texts god Óðinn and the role he plays in dif- in Flateyjarbók. ferent contexts leading up to his function Overall Kaplan’s book shows a great in the Flateyjarbók episodes – evoking command of the Old Norse corpus and what Haraldur Bessason once called scholarship in the field, as well as of mythological overlays in the text, refer- textual uncertainties and philological ring to immanent mythological know- details in the manuscript preservation. ledge in order to generate additional She applies modern critical thought meaning. Here Kaplan takes into con- from folkloristics and other disciplines, sideration many different facets, sources makes clear where the boundaries of and textual variations in order to illumi- knowledge lie and where speculation nate her point about the ever changing begins, and takes on the texts with a very continuity of earlier ideas (rather than personal and original analysis which can being the discovered relics) and the dif- set an example of how medieval Norse ferent functions which ideas and charac- texts may be read and interpreted, con- ters have in their embedded contexts. sistent with the principles of new philol- Here she convincingly shows that Óðinn ogy and current critical theory – benefit- stories in medieval texts should not first ing strongly from her folkloristic back- and foremost be read as informative ground. Kaplan shows exceptional con- about the pagan god in pagan times but sistency in applying her critical thinking rather as informative about the ingen- to the material she deals with, be it in ac- ious contemplation among different tex- curate vocabulary, how she addresses tual producers concerning their access to her issues, in her point of view or gen- the past and how they can use that past eral conclusions. In the process she for their contemporary purposes. In the points out how earlier approaches have process Kaplan also offers a useful limited the scope of scholarship regard- methodological model for all studies of ing the texts, partly because of method- these texts when it comes to their source ological barriers and preconceptions value and the meaning they can convey that have blindfolded many scholars. – making full use of her folkloristic Even though Kaplan’s focus is on the background, thus avoiding the pitfalls of past in the present in a particular codex many literary/medieval studies. from Iceland, the methodological Taking the context of the four narra- groundbreaking work should be of great tives in Flateyjarbók yet another a step use for other studies that deal with texts further, Kaplan looks into the typologi- of old. She writes elegantly in a lucid cal structure of the codex and the role style, charged with meaning and with a the Odinic tales may have had in Flatey- clear line of thought and argument, full jarbók’s capacity as an educating mirror of humour and witticisms that all serve for the prince of Norway, for whom the scholarly purpose of her work. some scholars think the codex may have This book is likely to be influential in been intended. In the final chapter Kap- the field of Old Norse as well as in other lan’s excellent writing style floats freely disciplines where people pay attention to demonstrate how the past is brought to the past in the present. Kaplan’s broad into our world today through museum background in folkloristics as well as and exhibition activity, exploring ex- minute philological studies enables her amples from Haugasund in Norway and to address with great authority issues of the Manuscript exhibition in Reykjavík. major general importance for how texts In so doing she puts her ideas and an- of old with a traditional background can alysis into a modern perspective and be dealt with in a scholarly analysis. She demonstrates at the same time how rele- sets a standard that will serve as an ex- Reviews 181 ample of how scholars must keep at least Finns for a national sentiment in the pe- two balls aloft at the same time: detailed riod after liberation from Sweden in critical reading of the text(s) and a broad 1809 and from Russia in 1917. view of their traditional and textual con- The second chapter is about Finland’s text. national poet, Johan Ludvig Runeberg (1804–77), and what can be regarded as Gísli Sigurðsson either Swedish or Finnish in him. He Reykjavík, Iceland wrote the poem “Our Country”, which opens the first work of The Tales of En- sign Stål (1848). The first and last verse in this poem are also the words of Fin- Swedish Finland land’s national anthem (Maamme). The Sven-Erik Klinkmann: I fänrikarnas, original text was written in Swedish but martallarnas och dixietigrarnas land. translated into Finnish in 1868 by the En resa genom det svenska i Finland. poet and language professor Julius Svenska litteratursällskapet i Finland, Krohn (1835–88), and the tune was Helsingfors 2011. 382 pp. Ill. composed in 1848 by Fredrik Pacius (1809–91). It may be mentioned in pass- This is a book about a weighty topic. ing that Finland’s neighbour Estonia The folklorist Sven-Erik Klinkmann has uses the same tune for its national an- tackled the task of performing a cultural them, which is hardly by chance, al- analysis of Swedish Finland. He was as- though the words were written by the signed this task by the Society of Swe- Estonian poet Johann Voldemar Jannsen dish Literature in Finland to mark its (1819–90). In addition, during his career 125th anniversary in 2010. This might Runeberg created what Klinkmann calls seem beyond the scope of a single book, a “folk-ethnographic gallery of types”, as the author to some extent admits in chiefly with reference to The Tales of the introduction, “Studying Swedish Ensign Stål, a work that also had a great Finland”. The author says that the topic influence on Fennophilia and later Fen- has already been the subject of consider- nomania, major constituents of Finnish able research, not least in history and lit- patriotism. Although Runeberg had erary history, but he still finds that there grown up in a Swedish environment in is more to do, especially as regards pop- Finland, and also wrote in Swedish, his ular culture, particularly from the angle poetry, according to Klinkmann, has “a of popular music – in other words, a re- Pan-Finnish character”. He goes on to search field that he is already thoroughly ask whether Runeberg could even speak familiar with. After the introduction, Finnish and sums up the partly contra- and a foreword by Håkan Andersson, dictory speculation and research on this professor emeritus at Åbo Akademi and matter. This is part of another question chairman of the Society of Swedish Lit- the author raises about Runeberg: “How erature in Finland, the book contains six can he, as a Swedish speaker, be Fin- main chapters on different topics. The land’s national poet?” conclusion has the character of both a The third chapter mostly deals with theoretical and a more synthesizing dis- the time from the end of the nineteenth cussion. After notes and sources, the century until the Second Word War. book ends with a very useful index of Considering topics such as Finnish tour- persons. ism and its marketing, the author dis- The first chapter deals mainly with cusses language policy and nationalism the problem complex of bilingualism, in the light of modernism. At the end of that is, the tension between Swedish and the First World War the term “Finland- Finnish, based on the aspiration of some Swedish” was coined, and Klinkmann 182 Reviews claims that a consequence of Finland’s land-Swedish metaphors in twenty-first- independence was that the Swedish- century Finland, namely, Moominvalley speaking minority found itself trapped. and the duck pond. The former is the While they had to show solidarity with world as it appears in the children’s their own language group, they were ex- books of the author Tove Jansson, which pected to display their devotion to the are also well known internationally, new nation where Finnish was the lan- while the latter should be perceived as guage spoken by the majority of the an actual allegory. The characters and population. stories in the semi-mystic world of The fourth chapter looks at the signif- Moominvalley, along with the partly tra- icance of jazz and early rock music for ditional and rural security that can be in- Swedishness in Finland. Relying on re- terpreted as existing in Swedish-speak- search such as Jalkanen & Kurkela ing Finland, symbolize a cosy side of (2003), the author declares here that Swedishness in Finland. In particular, it Afro-American-inspired popular music stands as a symbol of communication in Finland generally seems to have been with the outside world, the distinctive pioneered by Finland Swedes. Why was sociolect that is also used by speaker this? Klinkmann cites private economy voices and singers in readings and as a possible reason, for example, that filmed versions of Jansson’s stories, Swedish-speaking adolescents in Hel- which further reinforces the impressions sinki had more money and could there- and the myths of what “Finland-Swe- fore invest in good instruments, elec- dish” really is, both inside and outside tronic equipment, and so on. Another the borders of Finland. possible reason is that Swedish speakers The book ends with a discussion in Finland have traditionally been more where the author uses the term double oriented to the west. They were there- bind. This was launched by the English fore inspired by music in Sweden, which anthropologist Gregory Bateson (1904– had already been influenced by what 80), and Klinkmann employs it to de- was being produced in countries like note the binary dependences between England and the USA. The author thus Finnish and Swedish in Finland, as well advocates an explanatory model that fol- as Swedish in both Finland and Sweden. lows a linear chain of events. The next Moreover, Klinkmann seems to agree, at chapter deals with more up-to-date pop least in part, with hypotheses (e.g. Tan- music. It also discusses the language in defelt 2008, Ståhlberg 2009–10) accord- which Finland-Swedish artistes sing; ing to which it is the language, Swedish, these cannot be classed as a homogene- that unites the Finland-Swedes as a ous group. Should the words be in group and that there is no genuine soli- Swedish or English, or perhaps in Finn- darity in the minority apart from this. On ish? The choice is not merely to do with the other hand, he says that more re- language; it is also a question of market- search is needed to study the meaning ing and the intended audience. Both the that other parameters might have for ex- fourth and the fifth chapters, dealing plaining Swedishness in Finland, espe- with pop music, clearly draw on Klink- cially with regard to social positions in mann’s previous book Från Wantons till combination with cultural modes of ex- Wild Force: Nya sound i en gränsstad pression, such as language. In this con- (New Sounds in a Borderland; see my nection the references come from the so- review in Arv 2011). Klinkmann is ciologist Donald Broady (2007) who in thoroughly at home in this field, to turn proceeds from a theoretical ap- which he also reveals a certain emotion- proach ascribed to Pierre Bourdieu. al attachment. All in all, this book is a pleasant ac- The sixth chapter considers two Fin- quaintance. It may seem slightly too Reviews 183 large and packed with facts, but it also prominent themes or characters. These contains a generous helping of intelli- include fate, miracles, death and the gence. dead, supranormal spirits of various sorts, human transformations, nature, Patrik Sandgren plague and epidemics, settlement and Lund, Sweden social relations, churches, treasures, wars, kings and nobility, crime and punishment, and unusual people. Each class of types is introduced with a description The Types of the Swedish Folk Leg- of the regional denominations of beings end Now Classified and phenomena, and of their place with- Bengt af Klintberg: The Types of the in the regional belief system. References Swedish Folk Legend. FF Communica- to scholarly literature are subsequently tions 300. Academia Scientiarum Fenni- given. Then the types are listed, with ca, Helsinki 2010. 501 pp. title, summary of plot and distribution in Sweden and the Swedish-speaking areas When I was a student in folkloristics, I of Finland, which are also included. first heard of the catalogue of Swedish Cross-references are used when a legend legends Bengt af Klintberg was compil- has been sorted under another heading, ing. As legend tradition was one of my but is relevant in the present context as primary interests, I sorely missed a good well. The volume ends with a bibliogra- reference work on the Swedish material phy, an appendice on ATU types with that would facilitate access to it, and parallels in the catalogue, and an index. eventually enable comparison between I find the volume easy to orient my- Finland-Swedish and Swedish legend self in, but as with any type index, hav- variants. Now it has been published, and ing a basic knowledge of what the tradi- I am delighted to find that it is as useful tion looks like and some familiarity with as I hoped it to be. type indices in general is a prerequisite In the introduction, af Klintberg de- for using it effectively. I am sure legend tails the origin of the work in a classifi- scholars will welcome this mapping of cation of legends presented by Carl-Her- the Swedish legend tradition; it is an man Tillhagen, relates the current out- achievement that deserves recognition line to existing legend catalogues in the and respect. Nordic countries, and discusses definitions and classifications of legends as Camilla Asplund Ingemark well as material excluded from con- Lund/Åbo, Sweden/Finland sideration. For example, the legend is defined as a narrative with a fixed plot recorded in more than one variant, which excludes memorates and belief Toolbox for Methodological Thinking accounts. They are also told with stylis- Sami Lakomäki & Pauliina Latvala & tic devices aimed at making them trust- Kirsi Laurén (eds.): Tekstien rajoilla. worthy. In addition, the author draws Monitieteisiä näkökulmia kirjoitettuihin attention to the phenomenon of genre aineistoihin. [Along Textual Borders. variance, i.e. that the same narrative can Multidisciplinary perspectives on re- be told both as a folktale and as a legend, search materila]. Suomalaisen Kirjal- which makes for some overlap with lisuuden Seuran Toimituksia 1314. Hans-Jörg Uther’s revision of Aarne- Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, Hel- Thompson. sinki 2011. 356 pp. The catalogue contains more than 1800 types, and is arranged according to In the book Tekstien rajoilla, the writers 184 Reviews try to clarify, with 14 articles, the chal- her own sexual identity in order to get lenges related to qualitative research on the material she needs for the study. written source materials. The articles It is an important ethical starting consist of a multidisciplinary cavalcade point to give voice to the ones being ex- of the types of materials that stay outside amined in the culture study. In an article of an official literary institution and to entitled “Historiaa, antropologiaa ja et- the methodological questions that the nohistoriaa”, Rani-Henrik Andersson materials raise. introduces his own study of Lakota In- The book is divided into four them- dians and the paradigm of New Western atic parts that approach texts critically, History, which has become popular in through corporality and feelings, from recent years. Andersson examines possi- the private and the public point of view bilities for diversifying a traditional and as a product of multiple contexts. study of the history of North American Similar questions seem to occupy the Indians. The starting point is very simi- different writers. What is the relation- lar to that of other “new histories”. The ship between the written text and reali- methodologically interesting problem is ty? How, where and why have the texts connected to the traditional source mate- been created? What is the researcher’s rials, which are usually produced by out- role in the process of forming of know- siders and not by Indians themselves. ledge? Or, what kind of information and Andersson has used Lakota Indians’ reality do the different texts construct? own oral histories and other alternative The writers are connected by an idea sources to give more versatile points of that has become widely accepted within view to the history of Lakota Indians. cultural studies: the idea that human be- Women have been a silent group in ings actively construct the texts and the history for a long time. Nowadays, reality within them. According to their women’s history is a part of mainstream own abilities and desires, persons use research and, in many respects, women both cultural conventions and genres to have been noticed as historical subjects. build self-expression when writing. Anna Mikkola’s article “Sano äitillen In the first part of the book, there are semmosia terveisiä…” and Piia examples of the critical reading of texts. Metsä-Tokila’s article “Työläismoraali The article by Antu Sorainen (“Laki, vastarinnan legitimointina” show the sukupuoli ja seksuaalisuus”) examines points of view that woman’s history has how legal texts construct sexuality. So- to offer for examining texts. Mikkola rainen uses queer method to open up dis- examines discourses related to women courses behind the texts. She shows that through the material dealing with the sexuality is a result of historical power front tradition of the Second World War. struggles. Legal texts reveal that the acts Even though the heterogeneous material which question a hetero normative order deals with men’s culture, it is also poss- form the foundation for the punishment ible to perceive the image of women of sex offences. Power and the legal through a careful reading of the texts. texts are closely connected. Difference Mikkola has looked for women in the is marginalized as wrong or bad. In this discourses by tracing, for example, the way, laws and legal praxis participate to gender system. build notions of normative sexuality as a In her article, Piia Metsä-Tokila part of the social discussion. The subject handles the narration of imprisoned of Sorainen’s study is still somewhat ta- women’s memories during the 1930s. boo within Finnish society, so the open- Women were imprisoned because of ing of archives is not always easy. An communist activity between 1930 and example of an interesting question is 1940. The ethos of the women’s narra- whether or not the researcher can hide tions connects the texts to one another. Reviews 185 Metsä-Tokila compares the stories pro- about the interpreters’ own projections duced by the imprisoned women to the or the feelings of the person who pro- documents produced by the workers of duced the text? To try to make it as clear the prison administration. Interestingly, as possible, it is important to contextual- Metsä-Tokila considers how different ize texts and the researcher’s own posi- contexts produce different meanings. tion in research process. But of course it Metsä-Tokila asks: what is the signifi- will always be impossible to reach per- cance of ideological uniformity within fect transparency. the texts to the reality that they convey? Piret Paal (“Kun sairastuin syöpään”) Metsä-Tokila makes the point that it is examines narratives that are related to significant what particular institution ar- cancer experiences. When studying the ranges the collecting of the memories collected material, questions about the and how it’s done, because it influences processes and motives behind the texts the styles and contents of the written are fundamental. According to Paal, the texts. background motives of the cancer narra- The cultural researcher can study tives lie in the desire to conceptualize only the verbalized experiences of the the illness and in the aspirations to re- human being. Helena Saarikoski (”Men- gain control over one’s life. The way a neisyyden ruumiinkokemusten tut- typical written collection is arranged has kiminen kirjoitetussa aineistossa”) de- influenced the writers and how they use velops ways to interpret the written ex- conventions and discourses. Sometimes perience of corporality. Her example is a particular narrative seems to even have dance experiences. The article explores been written to satisfy collectors’ expec- the ways in which bodily functions are tations. Therefore, it is important to the written about in texts and how cultural researcher to realize the personal mo- values are connected to narratives of the tives and the cultural conventions which body. Saarikoski (p. 132) writes, inter- direct the writing. estingly, that the interpretation of cor- Memoirs have often been considered porality in the texts requires an act of a purposeful and unreliable source. Kari transformation. By this, she means that Teräs (“Epäilystä vuoropuheluun”) ex- presence and insight are both needed in pands upon the theme of memoirs as a the texts. The person of the past speaks source of historical research. According in her corporality to the reader through to Teräs, the research problems should different senses. be generated in compliance with the spe- Also, feelings are verbalized con- cial characteristics of the sources. In- structions in the written text. Annamari stead of giving exact information about Iranto (“Tekstin tunteet – vai tutkijan?”) historical events, memoirs offer a good examines the experience of injustice and channel for understanding cultural the feelings which are related to it. Iran- meanings. Therefore, memoirs must be to’s sources are letters that have been studied by understanding the written sent to a TV programme (“Karpolla on conventions and the way truth is formed asiaa”). The written experience might and conceived of within the genre. also challenge a researcher. The sympa- When realizing the character of the thy which has been created by the expe- source, the researcher can also ask fer- rience of the writers compels the re- tile questions of the memoirs. The researcher to think about the grounds for searcher could settle into an equal dia- interpretation. The interesting methodo- logue with the text and try to decode the logical problem in the study of such narrator’s ideas and experiences of the emotional material has to do with the truth. question of whose feelings are in ques- The Internet has brought many chal- tion in the interpretation. Are we talking lenging problems to cultural studies. 186 Reviews The ways of thinking about publicity interaction between internal and exter- and privacy and about the ethical issues nal elements in texts. For example, the related to them are methodologically in- language can vary according to the sub- teresting. Many people perceive Internet ject of the collection or according to the forums to be easily ambiguous: simul- writing instructions. Sometimes writers taneously public and private. Johanna can use regional dialects or the jargon of Järvinen-Tassopoulos discusses Internet a particular group to emphasize the tra- forums as a form of research material. ditional nature of their writings. Hynni- Järvinen-Tassopoulos’ article “Pelaa- nen explores texts of women who have vien naisten nettikeskustelujen käytön ja responded to different written genres. It analyysin eettiset haasteet” concentrates is of note that Hynninen shows how the especially on ethical problems and the texts vary according to writing contexts ways in which the relationship between and how persons construct different the source being examined and the re- meanings even for the same event. searcher are formed. Many interesting In the last article of the book (“Teks- problems occur methodologically: How tin ajat”), Jyrki Pöysä develops a tempo- to estimate the reliability of the material ral point of view for an analysis of mem- because of its unidentified nature? How ory narratives. Time is presented in should the researcher follow the discus- many ways in the narratives. The narra- sions? How does the researcher’s pres- tion, for example, fixes a temporal expe- ence affect the contents of the discus- rience to the text. According to Pöysä, sions? Järvinen-Tassopoulos used the the examination of temporal dimensions writings of women addicted to gaming makes it possible to analyze the tempo- as research material, so that the method- ral stresses of the narration, its silences ological questions which are connected and different functional processes. An to gender will also become acute. analysis of the multi-level temporality The fourth part concentrates on the of a text can help us get a deeper under- temporal and productive contexts of the standing of the written historical event. sources. When collecting materials, the The book Tekstien rajoilla offers a collecting instructions and expectations good cross-section of the methodologi- affect the writings, as Jaakko Suominen cal discussions from written sources in shows in his article Mediasta kysy- the humanities. According to the book’s mässä. Suominen clarifies in his analy- starting points, the articles mainly intro- sis how the different conceptions of duce the methodological problems and technology and earlier innovations have the writers’ own research results do not shaped the stories about the beginnings take a leading role. The potential readers for the use of new media technologies. of the book are probably found among Both the questioner’s and the interview- students who need Finnish literature for ee’s ideas of technology are in dialogic their own theses. The book illustrates relation to the way the writings have very clearly different methodological been formed. Also, Anna Hynninen problems in researching written mate- (“Elämää kerroksittain”) and Helena rials and gives many good solutions for Lindstén (“Kahvihetken kokemisesta them, too. Because the book is well writ- muistitiedossa”) emphasize the impor- ten and a quick read, it can also serve as tance of realising the contexts of the re- a point of stimulus for the researchers. search material. Writing does not take place in a vacuum, so the researcher has Erkka Pehkonen to map the conventions and socio-cul- Jyväskylä, Finland tural and historical contexts which have directed the production of the material. In this way, it is possible to perceive the Reviews 187 The Return of the Frump? visible in society, the mature woman can Marianne Liljeqvist & Karin Lövgren be viewed as an alternative for young (eds.): Tanten, vem är hon? En (t)anto- girls, as a way of protesting against to- logi. Boréa, Umeå 2012. 284 pp. Ill. day’s obsession with appearances and high achieving. The mature woman can We live in a time when interest in vin- be looked upon as a woman who speaks tage is immense. As a way of returning her mind, not bothering about whether to a more sustainable and down-to-earth she pleases other people or not. A ma- way of living, objects from the past are ture woman who makes fruit syrup and used and re-used. This concern with vin- jam is trustworthy and strong on her tage can also be interpreted as a material own premises and represents an alterna- presence of the past. Yet this lifestyle tive femininity or a superfrump. Some does not deal solely with materiality, but young women look at mature woman as also with ingredients of the past of a a role model – femininity beyond age – more discursive nature. This is what Un- on her own terms but also on other terms derbara Klara (Wonderful Klara) does in than young women in the 1950s, the era her blog, where she promotes the house- of housewives. The mature woman of wife and her special knowledge. In the today can be single and thus represents blog she gives advice on how to clean another gender order than housewives in properly, how to decorate the home and the days when marriage and a male how to make old clothes like new. When breadwinner were (mostly) taken for looking at her blog I am struck by the granted. Like the housewife in a new aesthetics of the fifties. Klara wears a version, Housewife 2.0, having a mature chequered top and a red skirt and has her woman as a model, can be regarded as a hair gathered in a scarf as she plants dream of a simpler life, a way of jump- flowers to put in her kitchen window. ing off the career ladder and having Underbara Klara promotes femininity more time for oneself. far away from the women that can be This study is of current interest and seen on the catwalk, in glossy fashion the people who initiated the project are magazines or in the world of soap ope- to be complimented. The publication is ras. How can this interest in decoration interdisciplinary and the phenomenon is and other female chores, in combination studied on the basis of sociology, lit- with this kind of aesthetic, be under- erary studies, and cultural analysis in stood culturally and what does it say combination with an interest in gender about the time we live in? studies and ageing. The most rewarding One explanation for the phenomenon article is by Karin Lövgren, about repre- is given in the volume Tanten, vem är sentations of mature women. She gets hon?, a title that means something like behind the stereotype, seeking to study “The Mature Woman, Who Is She?” the phenomenon where ageing and (The untranslatable Swedish word tant femininity intersect. According to her, comes from the French word for “aunt” mature women are often associated with but can refer to mature or elderly women negative ideas, considered asexual and in general, with strong connotations of without status in society. But, as she being dowdy and old-fashioned.) The states, a mature woman does not have to publication is edited by the ethnologists be a person we are supposed to pity. She Marianne Liljeqvist and Karin Lövgren, can also be looked upon as an expres- working at Umeå University. They pre- sion of freedom, not having to bother sent the mature woman as a topic of cur- about her appearance, and free to wear rent interest, as a representation of the sensible shoes. Young people can per- “small life” and as something of societal ceive the mature woman as a model of significance. Instead of being made in- style picking up earlier representations, 188 Reviews the handbag as one attribute, reviving an interests. This study gives an understand- old style and making it trendy. When ing of how the mature woman as a phe- viewed in this way, the mature woman nomenon used to be invisible but nowa- does not only represent a particular age days is praised. There is a risk of using or generation. The weakest aspect of this the mature woman in a nostalgic but un- article is the lack of international re- critical manner. In my opinion, however, search concerning women and ageing. the authors of the articles have not fallen Eva Söderberg writes about mature into this trap but give a multifaceted pres- women in the world of Astrid Lindgren. entation of mature women, or to use An- In Lindgren’s books we meet nice la- nelie Bränström Öhman’s words, an dies, kind elderly women, old maids, “elastic” comprehension. young misses, housemaids and mother substitutes. Söderberg shows how these Lena Marander-Eklund women are mostly presented in a favour- Åbo, Finland able light as important figures to relate to. The remaining articles discuss the mature woman as a marker of ageing in interviews where women talk about Folk Against the Mainstream their own ageing. No woman in Sweden Kati Mikkola: Tulevaisuutta vastaan. wants to be a tant because youthfulness Uutuuksien vastustus, kansantiedon is held up as an ideal. No one wants to keruu ja kansakunnan rakentaminen wear frumpish clothes, except those who [Against the Future – Resistance to in- use these kinds of clothes as a sign of a novations, the collecting of folk know- certain lifestyle and as a way to mark off ledge and nation building]. Suomalai- them from older people trying to look sen Kirjallisuuden Seuran toimituksia young. Katarzyna Wolanik Boström 1251. Suomalaisen Kirjallisuuden Seu- writes about the mature women who oc- ra, Helsinki 2009. 423 pp. Ill. Diss. cur in her family history. When these women talk about their youth they link In her dissertation Tulevaisuutta vas- past to present, with expressions such as taan [Against the Future] Kati Mikkola “in those days” and “nowadays”, using examines rural inhabitants’ attitudes to- nostalgia as a way of showing how hard ward innovations from the mid-19th life was in Poland during the 1950s. century to the Second World War. Her Other articles deal with the Internet as material consists of a questionnaire, 84 an arena for mature women’s sexual lib- responses from 57 men and 27 women eration (Hanna Bertilsdotter Rosqvist), (c. 1435 pages), written correspondence the invisible older lesbian woman (Eve- between the collectors and the archives lina Lindahl), and the mature women of (1510 letters) as well as the collectors’ childhood, using auto-ethnography as a autobiographical texts. method (Marianne Liljeqvist). The questionnaire, Miten kansa vas- The study presents mature and elderly taanotti uudet elämänmuodot? [How women from a broad perspective. At the did the folk react to new lifestyles?], was same time, I feel something is missing. published in 1939 and the responses Perhaps the volume would have been were received by the Finnish Literary even more profound if some of the ar- Society – Folklore Archives. It ad- ticles had dealt with mature women at dressed ten themes associated with new work and in the household, as a way of methods of cultivation and crops, new presenting further spheres of “the little clothing styles, new modes of building world”. Edited volumes are often written construction, schools, newspapers, sec- as a result of a limited research group’s ular literature, social evenings and work and therefore reflect their research raffles, money economy and banks, po- Reviews 189 litical activism and relations between ologist Esko Aaltonen (1893–1966), various social groups. Some collectors who compiled the questionnaire, as well recalled their own memories and view- as through the respondents, their collec- points; some interviewed their relatives tive work and the questionnaire mate- and friends; others described the themes rial. While constructing the questions without mentioning their informants. and thematic categories Aaltonen’s aim Modernization, nationalism, seculari- was to clarify the process of establishing zation, religion, folk theology and role modern innovations and to help create a division in estate society are central con- holistic picture of the Finnish peasants’ cepts which organize Mikkola’s re- culture, whose traditional virtues and search together with change and conti- strengths were seen giving inspiration to nuity. She does not define the terms a modern culture. inflexibly but leaves them open. Innova- In earlier studies the self-educated tively, she combines the interdisciplin- collectors of folk knowledge have re- ary discussion among folklorists, eth- ceived little attention, but Mikkola high- nologists and cultural historians regard- lights these agents and analyzes their so- ing modernization and nation building cio-economic and cultural backgrounds with discussions in religious studies and roles in producing the voice of the about folk theology, secularization and folk. She inquires how and from what the religious dimensions of the nation. perspectives the collectors and the col- She draws upon Gadamerian hermeneu- lecting system of the Folklore Archives tics, social constructivism and the phe- has constructed our image of the atti- nomenology of religion. tudes towards modernization. The infor- With her method “reading against the mation about the respondents tells us grain” Mikkola wants to take better note whose perspectives we rely upon when of the multiple meanings and voices we reconstruct knowledge of the past within the reports. Because the oppo- through narrative material. nents of new phenomena did not write Most collectors had grown up in the down their views – many considered the countryside and were native Finnish ability to write a useless skill for labour- speakers. They shared an interest in folk ers – she tries to find their justifications tradition and literary activities. Many for resistance in the words of the collec- saw collecting as a patriotic duty, want- tors, who mostly had adopted positive ed to defend the honour of the home attitudes towards innovations. The col- district and save ancient knowledge for lectors are not the voice of the people future generations and research. The but active producers of knowledge. Thus collectors often had doubts about their Mikkola makes an effort to look beyond skills and the worthiness of the material the priorities of the writers and recog- they had gathered. The researchers and nize other contexts which render his- staff at the Folklore Archives encour- torical phenomena comprehensible. She aged them to keep up their valuable and seems to succeed in her task admirably useful work, but occasionally they also and the hegemonic interpretation of na- criticized the collectors’ working meth- tion building receives a number of coun- ods and doubted the authenticity of the ter-interpretations in the book. material. Despite many obstacles they Mikkola divides her research into two gave a personal sacrifice to the altar of parts. The first one is about the produc- the national future and its scientific en- tion of material and the second one deal deavours. with the resistance of new phenomena at The second, larger part of the disser- the grass root level of society. She clari- tation focuses on the resistance of inno- fies the ideological agenda of folk cul- vations: objects, practices and ideolo- ture research in the 1930s through soci- gies, at the grass root level of society. In- 190 Reviews stead of winners who accepted and many novelties were condemned as un- adopted innovations, she concentrates suitable for common folk. Adherence to on the losers or the rural inhabitants who the old social roles in dress, education or opposed and rejected new phenomena. use of time were regarded as necessary The defenders and supporters of innova- for those who wished to earn a living tions actively participated in the build- and provide for families. Such arguing of modern Finland, whereas oppo- ments represented the ‘Other’ for the nents represented in some sense a coun- collectors, who rarely used the same rea- terculture at odds with the project of sons in their own explanations. modernisation. However, both were Reformers, educators and innovators closely involved in the construction of a believed modernization represented pro- national self-image at the level of archi- gress, enlightenment and the improve- val work and the national sciences: ment of life; the opponents interpreted it Finnish history, language, folklore and as disorder, moral decline and seculari- ethnology. The opponents constructed zation. Negotiations regarding the their own version of the nation, usually boundaries of propriety took place in marginalized in the story of the birth of daily situations; active resistance was modern Finland. expressed for example by destroying, The ‘enlightened’ collectors seem to burning and breaking objects or threat- set themselves above and apart from the ening to do so, and by composing and uneducated folk who opposed innova- performing mocking songs and poems. tions. With historical irony they lend an More passive methods included avoid- air of comedy to the opponents’ sayings ing, criticizing, and laughing at new and doings. In the late 1930s it was easy phenomena as well as delaying their to mock “the elderly” or “the religious” adoption. Ideals and action did not al- because of their backwardness, since ways agree. Some opposed an innova- most of the innovations mentioned in the tion in theory, but utilized it in practice; questionnaire were already well estab- others behaved the opposite way: a per- lished. However, the responses contained son purchased modern farming tools but extensive descriptions of resistance. The did not want his children to attend public questionnaire text drew very little atten- schools. tion to religion, but in the responses, it ap- In everyday life the modernization pears as a vital element of folk culture process meant constant negotiations re- and its rhetorical arsenal. Both opponents garding the adoption of innovations, and defenders of new objects, practices which became established around the and modes of thought used religious ar- country in different ways and at different guments; for some a new thing was a de- paces. The process was neither rapid nor vice of the Antichrist, for others a gift linear. Those who adopted innovations from God. Although old people are often after careful consideration emerge as a connected with opposing new phenome- certain ideal type, set in opposition to na, the notion of a generation gap in inno- those who obstinately stuck to the old vation cannot be taken for granted. The ways. On both sides opinion-setters questionnaire called for attitudes of the played an important role in the adoption old and the young without making it clear or rejection of new phenomena. Priests if they mean generations or supporters and teachers and their behaviour divided and resisters. opinions. Some priests only tried to save Although the estate system in Finland the status quo, but others welcomed new officially ended in 1906, the old modes phenomena, and people either followed of thought supported by the Lutheran them or did not. Teachers themselves Christianity influenced people’s atti- were part of a whole new ideology, the tudes for many decades to come. Thus public school system, and it depended Reviews 191 on their own reliability or credibility Musical Life on the Border whether people accepted or rejected them Marja Mustakallio: Musik på gränsen. and the innovation they represented. Hundra år av tornedalskt musikliv. Ark- Public schools offered a new peer tinen ajatus, Övertorneå 2012. 358 pp. membership for youth from different so- Ill. Examples of musical notation. cial classes and estates. They also protected the Christian values and the sig- There are still many gaps in the account nificance of religion in the new contexts of Swedish music history. I am thinking of society. In the course of moderniza- not just of the line of composers await- tion, religiosity lost some of its collec- ing scholarly study. Nor am I referring tive nature and became a more private only to important singers and musicians and individual matter, but its signifi- who deserve to be described, or significance in the individual’s view of the cant musical environments that have not world did not necessarily decrease. been given their rightful place in the his- Newspapers were a new way of pro- tory of music. What I am thinking of is ducing a community which rural people the musical history of places and re- could participate in. Like the new secu- gions. Swedish music history is a patchy lar literature, they divided people into narrative, due to different conditions for those who were for and against, but the those with an interest in music and mu- collectors were mostly for. The politici- sic-making, which in turn has resulted in zation of society was the only social differing courses of development. In ad- transformation that was expressed nega- dition, the musical history of places and tively by a significant number of re- regions has an intrinsic value, since spondents. The Finnish Civil War in every narrative about music and the con- 1918 may well have reinforced this atti- ditions for making music is unique. tude. The rise of political parties came to The latter factor is clearly illustrated stand for discord and the destruction of in Marja Mustakallio’s comprehensive the harmonious village relations, not for book about musical life on the border civil rights. between Sweden and Finland, in the val- Tulevaisuutta vastaan contains such ley of Tornedalen, during the long nine- a number of examples of resistance and teenth century. In the introduction we rejection of innovations that they make are told how Mustakallio grew up in one wonder how modernization was Ylitornio in Finland, and when she was possible at all. Then again, the refusal to active in music she experienced two accept new phenomena reminds one of largely separate musical cultures, one on what was finally accepted. the Swedish side of the river, the other Kati Mikkola’s book is a heavy pack- on the Finnish side. After gaining her age of information. She does not only doctorate in musicology at Åbo Akade- thoroughly analyze every nook and mi University with a dissertation about cranny of her rich material, but through- Fanny Hensel Mendelsohn, she moved out the book she converses “thickly” back but decided to settle in Övertorneå with research literature from different in Sweden. This led her to ask whether fields. This approach together with the musical life in this river valley had al- small print and the large number of ways been divided, a question that was pages makes the dissertation quite a the start of a highly ambitious quest for challenge, but a rewarding one, to the relevant source material, now resulting reader. In small portions the book is a in this book. pleasure. As regards the shifting courses taken by musical history, it should be men- Leena Rossi tioned here that historical research on Turku, Finland the Tornedalen valley makes special de- 192 Reviews mands. The most obvious, of course, is is also an indisputable strength in the that it requires a good knowledge of consistent references to the primary both Swedish and Finnish, preferably sources. combined with a reading knowledge of Although the particulars are so nu- Russian. The second is that the archival merous that they are hard to survey, material is not assembled in one place. Marja Mustakallio is able to present The Swedish period (i.e. before 1809, some broad observations. One of these when the whole of Tornedalen belonged concerns the availability of musical in- to Sweden) had its own archiving prac- struments. Pianos were owned, not un- tices. For the eastern part of Tornedalen, expectedly, by upper-class people. The the Russian era (1809–1917) saw a same was true of violins, which meant change in the procedures for the placing that there were hardly any folk fiddlers of archival material. And when Finland in Tornedalen. The only widespread in- became independent, yet another new strument seems to have been the psalm- order was established. These historical odikon. changes have resulted in a geographical For most of the studied period there and institutional division that is imprac- was no real distinction between high and tical and time-consuming for a research- low music. This became a reality, how- er. A third circumstance that is worth ever, at the turn of the century, when mentioning is that Tornedalen does not concert life with defined art music was appear to have been visited by any col- built up. lector interested in documenting folklife Yet another major finding concerns to any great extent; this applies especial- the difference between the Swedish and ly to the Finnish side. the Finnish side. Musical innovations, These circumstances, however, have according to Mustakallio, reached the not hindered Marja Mustakallio from Swedish side earlier; despite language implementing her plan. She has done a differences (even on the Swedish side tremendous amount of work, more or the language was a variant of Finnish less vacuum-cleaning all the relevant ar- called Meänkieli), there was more con- chives, both public and private, for tact with the south. And musical life in sources on musical life in Tornedalen. Haparanda was more urban than in the For instance, she has read 15,000 pro- twin town of Torneå, although Torneå is bate inventories in search of traces of a much older town than Haparanda. music among the property of people I would have liked to see more gen- who died in the nineteenth century: mu- eral conclusions like this, linking the sical instruments, musical furniture, study better to other research in music sheet music, and so on. She has also history, both Swedish and Finnish, from gone through all the surviving associa- the same era. The presentation of mate- tion archives and has read all the rial from the rich sources appears to Tornedalen newspapers from the whole have required so much work that the au- century. thors did not have enough energy left for With this amount of preparatory syntheses. There is undoubtedly much work, the result for the reader cannot be more to extract from this material, espe- anything but rewarding. She carefully cially about reception history. Language and systematically goes through the factors and national borders certainly many arenas of music, paying equal at- make Tornedalen an interesting region tention to both sides of the river. The from a comparative perspective. wealth of detail is dizzying: names, On the subject of language, the trans- dates, events, place-names, and so on. lation of the author’s original text from The end matter in the book, with appen- the Finnish has some rather unfortunate dices and indexes, is exemplary. There blemishes. Reviews 193 Marja Mustakallio’s book about mu- The collected material comprises sical life in Tornedalen will naturally over 4,000 pages of text from 68 writers. find its keenest readers among local Of these, Nagel has selected seven cor- people and natives in exile. But those respondents for examination. The col- outside that circle who have an interest lections of occupational memoirs in in music history will benefit from her Nordiska Museet are classical ground work. For fellow musicologists there are for Swedish ethnologists: Barbro Bur- many details that can be used for com- sell, Stefan Bohman, Susanne Lundin, parison with other areas. and Ella Johansson have written about smiths, typographers, and forestry Gunnar Ternhag workers. But the previous researcher Falun, Sweden that Nagel relates to more than any is Bo G. Nilsson with his dissertation Folk- hemmets arbetarminnen (1996). The seamen use curt reporting lan- Swedish Sailors in Dialogue with guage that may have been inspired by Oedipus and Moby Dick the way a ship’s logbook is written, with Erik Nagel: I dialog med muntliga och the necessary notes about cargo, port of skriftliga berättartraditioner. En under- departure and destination, weather, visi- sökning av svenska sjömäns levnadsbe- bility, times, and any events of signifi- rättelser. Stockholm Studies in Ethnolo- cance for the journey. The same bare gy 6. Acta Universitatis Stockholmiensis style is used by the seamen when they 2012. 222 pp. Ill. English summary. write about dramatic events, experi- Diss. ences of war, deaths, loss of comrades and close relatives. Both the choice of Erik Nagel’s ertation presents seven topics and the arrangement are of course Swedish seamen who, by telling about partly influenced by Mats Rehnberg’s their lives, have created these lives, a instructions to the writers. number of days, a number of places, a Mats Rehnberg called the seamen’s number of events, and some small letters “reports”. Nagel has chosen the pieces of contemporary Swedish histo- term “life stories” (levnadsberättelser), ry. which can be regarded as a way to mark Nagel’s aim with the dissertation is a new position, differing from the one he “to analyse how some of the seamen adopted in his BA thesis from 1994, composed their life stories in dialogue where he called them “descriptions, de- with the conventions of oral folk narra- pictions” (skildringar). Unfortunately, tive and literature, not least traditional the dissertation has not been updated to heroic tales, with ethnological research reflect the latest theories about life histo- and with a contemporary public dis- ries. There is no mention of what Molly course about Sweden” (p. 13). Andrews has written about the narra- It was in October 1953 that the maga- tives of political activists, or Amy Shu- zines Sjömannen and Maskinbefälet man’s works on who has the right to tell urged Swedish seamen to write their life stories about what, of what Marianne stories. The person behind the appeal Horsdal says about how individuals’ was Mats Rehnberg, curator at Nordiska stories produce a nation’s grand narra- Museet. One difference from previous tive, of Alessandro Portelli’s studies of collecting drives was that the seamen the association between life histories were now asked to write down their own and experiences of war in Italy, of Ilana memoirs. Before this, younger workers Rosen’s work on Hungarian women’s had been asked to interview older col- war memories, or Elliot Oring’s demon- leagues. stration of how autobiographical narra- 194 Reviews tives are created by the folklorists con- folktale heroes usually undergo three ducting the interviews. The new Nordic tests, and Bengt Holbek writes about narratology, represented by scholars like thematic oppositions that lead to a Lars-Christer Hydén, Matti Hyvärinen, change of status for the characters in the and Georg Drakos with their studies of tale. From a ritual perspective we could difficult, incoherent narratives and elo- have spoken of passage rites. For me the quent silences, is also conspicuous by its term test conflicts is unnecessary. absence. Since the seamen’s narratives are An important building block in about experiences around the world, Nagel’s theoretical structure is Johan Nagel has found it natural to compare Georg von Hahn’s Sagwissenschaftliche them with literary texts on the same Studien from 1876. Hahn examined a theme: the Bible, the Odyssey, Oedipus, number of European and West Asian he- Dante’s Divina Commedia, and Mel- roic tales and identified 16 recurring fea- ville’s Moby Dick, but also with Victor tures. These features are combined by Hugo, Guy de Maupassant, Artur Lund- Nagel with Vladimir Propp’s 31 func- kvist, Harry Martinson, and Vilhelm tions from Morphology of the Folktale Moberg. He finds it striking, for ex- (1928, 1958) and with Bengt Holbek’s ample, how well Isidor Berndtsson’s ideas about how folktale heroes develop. narrative agrees with the Odyssey. But With this as a starting point, Nagel what exactly are the agreements? That has created a model consisting of three seamen go on long voyages is self-evi- types of heroes: the destined hero, ap- dent. Nor it is odd that they have to en- pointed by fate; the action hero, who in- dure trials and conflicts. Their home- dependently takes the decision to leave coming and setting sail again is a part of home; and the traditional hero, who re- everyday life. If Nagel had chosen the turns home successfully from his adven- police memoirs (1953) instead of the tures, in keeping with the demands of seamen’s memoirs, he might perhaps tradition, but goes back out to the alien have found striking similarities to Swe- world again. The traditional hero can be dish and international crime fiction, and an Ugly Duckling figure who is trans- we would not have been any the wiser formed by his adventures from poor to for that. The methodological problem is rich. The three heroic roles can be how we as researchers can show unam- demonstrated in most of the seaman’s biguously that the writers were influ- letters, but I cannot find that any new enced by any particular literary works. knowledge is created by putting these la- To be useable, the method should also bels on the actors in the letters. For me it be able to demonstrate that the writers would have felt more natural to compare were influenced by works not known to them with the folkloristic genre that the researcher. most typically deals with heroes, name- In the work with some of the sea- ly, the folktale. It would then have been men’s letters, Nagel uses an ethnopoetic natural also to examine the other roles transcription technique. His approach that a story needs so that the hero will was to read the texts aloud to himself stand out as a hero: the villain, the vic- slowly, and mark the pauses he thought tim, the helper, the mediator. he heard with a new line or a blank line. The heroes in the stories have to over- What Nagel achieves through this come various obstacles and setbacks method is to move the letters from a that would be insurmountable to others. written to an oral context. What may Nagel calls these recurrent impediments seem like a poor sense of style and bad “test conflicts”. A dramaturgist would punctuation in the original texts disap- have spoken simply of the conflicts that pears, and other forms of verbal compe- are necessary for propelling the action; tence emerge instead. Nagel gives a con- Reviews 195 crete demonstration of the successful blacksmith, got a job as a turner with the working of the method, but it would trams in Malmö, and went to sea as a have been reasonable to include a refer- stoker. He submitted nine typewritten ence to the way Dell Hymes in 1975 did folio sheets. It was the problems with an ethnopoetic transcription of Franz Stuhre’s remarkable way of writing and Boas’s record of “The Sun’s Myth”, dis- his use of Malmö dialect that gave Nagel cussing some of the basic characteristics the idea of testing ethnopoetic transcrip- of folklore. tion in his work with the seamen’s let- I wonder why Nagel did not use ters. Here is what Nagel himself writes: other tried and tested folkloristic meth- Stuhre’s “punctuation, sentence struc- ods than ethnopoetic transcription. At ture, and paragraph divisions are sur- the end of his career, for example, Lau- prising in so many places that in my first ri Honko was working on the study of read through the text I constantly had to what he called textualization, or the stop and reread to understand the con- principles that govern the interplay be- tent […] When I read difficult passages tween oral and written, and what aloud to myself, on the other hand, the Honko called mental text concerned seemingly clumsy text appeared as skil- what the envisaged narrative looks like ful verbal art” (p. 89). With the aid of before it is performed. Katharine ethnopoetic transcription, Stuhre Young is mentioned in the dissertation, seemed like a seasoned author of dra- but it would have been fascinating to matic prose poems. It was clear how he see an application of her model, where used dialect, rhythm, pauses for effect, the actual letter writing could take and intonation as rhetorical resources. place in the realm of conversation, Stuhre’s narrative follows Mats Nagel’s reading could be in the story- Rehnberg’s instructions; it is built up ac- realm, and the action in the letter could cording to classical Aristotelian poetics, have been in the taleworld. with complication, climax, reversal, and When Mats Rehnberg in autumn denouement. Stuhre is an action hero, 1953 published the appeal to the seamen whose life story is a parallel to the to put their memoirs to paper, he had Swedish narrative of the People’s Home managed thirteen such collection efforts or welfare state. He complies with Bengt since 1945, in which he had largely fol- Holbek’s pattern of transformation from lowed Sigurd Erixon’s guidelines. He a youth of low social status to an adult of had asked younger workers to interview higher social status. older colleagues and write down their Axel Bernhard Henriksson was born recollections. It turned out, however, in Stockholm in 1888, but lost both his that many of them ignored the instruc- parents early and grew up with his tions and instead wrote down their own grandmother in Visby. His career took recollection. Now Rehnberg drew the him from deckhand to sail maker and consequences of this and asked the sea- boatswain. He learned English, Spanish, men to write about their own lives. This and French, dug canals and worked on new procedure had a couple of signifi- plantations in South America, started a cant outcomes: one was that the interest family in Le Havre and was away from was shifted towards the present; another Sweden for 32 years. He wrote 22 pages was that individuals rather than occupa- by hand in ballpoint pen and was, as tional groups ended up in focus. Nagel writes, “parsimonious with full In chapter 4 of the dissertation the ac- stops and capital letters at the start of tual analysis begins with five short nar- new sentences”. When Nagel had bro- ratives. Johan Stuhre was born in ken the text into paragraphs and tran- Malmö in 1884, started working as an scribed it ethnopoetically, there errand boy, became apprentice to a emerged an individual narrative voice 196 Reviews telling a dramatically abrupt narrative at scientious and responsible, active in the high speed. temperance movement, but also a social- We have here several of the features ist. On the other hand there was Berndts- that Nagel has already identified as be- son’s father, uneducated and irrespons- ing typical of the seamen’s letters. Hen- ible, coming home every three years, riksson writes laconically, as in a log- getting drunk and making his wife preg- book, he avoids speaking plainly about nant. Berndtsson made a break with this events he has experienced in the war, background, but this also required him and he makes allusions to oral folk nar- to rebel against his mother. He went rative traditions. through a number of test conflicts, as C. A. Widing was born in Tösse in Nagel calls them, and when he finally Dalsland in 1882. He lost his father at an managed them, he had to set off in early age, had to work as a hand on the search of new ones, in accordance with neighbouring farm and later in a paper Hahn’s formula, finally returning in tri- mill. The work there was so hard that he umph and celebrating a princely wed- decided to go to sea. He typed 63 A4 ding. pages. Nagel sees in him a typical action A dramatic claim occurred when hero who is calm and methodical, saving Berndtsson fell overboard from the his comrades when the boat was under steamship Sheira in the South Atlantic, fire from the Germans because the cow- and when he came up to the surface ardly skipper had left the convoy. Back again the boat was already 100 metres in Europe, Widing happened to be in away. He lay there floating on his own Bergen on 9 April 1940, when the Ger- for nearly a whole day, in water that was mans occupied the city. He has a fantas- 6,000 metres deep and full of sharks. tic story about a German steamer that When Berndtsson wrote about the event had been in the harbour for a whole many years later, the text ended up in week without any sign of life. When the rhyme. The fact that Nagel has detected German battleships slipped into the har- this shows how carefully he has read bour and started firing, the hatches of the Berndtsson’s letter, for the verse is not German steamer at the quayside were in any way marked in the text. It is unde- opened and out paraded soldiers and niably, as Nagel writes, “an elegant little tanks, just like the wooden horse of cross-rhymed quatrain”, but Nagel’s de- Troy. scription of Berndtsson’s account is no In chapter 5 the author presents one less elegant: of the dissertation’s two main figures. “This moment of death, this liminal Isidor Berndtsson was born in Majorna state, is put in perspective by Berndtsson in Gothenburg in 1888. At the age of 13 through emphasis on the opposites of he started as a messenger boy and then now and eternity: the hero’s geographi- worked for a man who laid tin roofs. His cal location, alone in the South Atlantic, sister died young from tuberculosis, his versus the infinity of the ocean depths brother drank himself to death, his par- and the expanses of the heavens, the ents divorced, and Berndtsson went to beauty of the flying fish and the stars sea as a cook. Using pencil, ballpoint, versus the lethal jaws of the menacing and typewriter, Isidor Berndtsson wrote monster, the hope that is ignited at noon 233 pages in 25 numbered chapters, and extinguished again, the waves raised each with a heading. by a storm raging thousands of miles Berndtsson’s story of his childhood is away, waves that would continue to roll a narrative of destitution, poverty, filth, until they reached a shore where they drunkenness, and human decay. Two could find rest. This metaphorical shore poles are represented: on the one hand is Hades, the shore of the realm of death the labourer Svanberg who was con- for which the hero now longs” (p. 131). Reviews 197 Berndtsson’s life story continues in shoes, and dolls. Back home in Sweden accordance with the classical heroic pat- he persuades a church sewing circle to tern. He made yet another journey to the send two sacks of presents to the French shores of the realm of death, but a young family. Enduring various hardships, he Finnish seaman died as a proxy for him. makes his way back to Normandy, When he returned, like Odysseus, from hands over his gifts, and is treated to his wanderings, it was not false suitors roast chicken, bread, wine, and marma- he met, but a travelling theatrical com- lade. pany on their way to Varberg. Berndts- Nagel clearly shows how Axelson son triumphed over them by speaking composed his winding plot, and he also German, winning their money from finds references to the Brothers Grimm, them at poker, and drinking up their Erik Axel Karlfeldt, the Swedish hymn- whisky. book, Guy de Maupassant, and Victor The second leading character in the Hugo. Axelson certainly does not write dissertation is the engine-man A. R. logbook Swedish. Instead of heeding Axelson, who was born in Söderköping Mats Rehnberg’s checklist, he jumps in 1897, ended up as a foster-child with back and forth in time, follows his own an aunt, started and quickly finished as a associations, and switches between dif- navy submariner, trained as an engine- ferent genres. He is evidently well read. man and then worked as a marine engin- In other parts of his letter Nagel has eer. He is one of the youngest contribu- found references to Carl Michael Bell- tors to the collection. He was 57 years man, Harry Martinson, Artur Lundkvist, old and still working as a sailor when he and Ola Hansson. wrote 234 pages by hand for Nordiska Nagel reminds us that the collection Museet. of seamen’s memoirs took place in the If the heroes hitherto considered by depths of the cold war. Readers who Nagel have been rather one-dimensional followed the seamen’s magazine Sjö- characters, Axelson is presented as a mannen were well informed about po- complex, realistically portrayed anti- litical events around the world. There hero. He likes to put himself in outsider were articles about the West and its situations: he is a foster-child in the concern with communism, the risk of family, a landlubber at sea, good for nuclear war between the superpowers, nothing on submarines, always a little to and what racism could lead to. The one side, observing and reflecting. magazine Maskinbefälet wrote more Nagel does a close-up reading of how about the history of technology, but Axelson retells what he calls his finest also about topical political issues. Both memory of all, a dinner with a poor magazines reviewed new works of fic- family in a village in Normandy. It starts tion. Seamen in the 1950s had access to with scattered recollections of travels 22 stationary and 1,605 mobile libraries and meals, and then Axelson declares with over 42,000 volumes, mostly fic- that he is going to tell of a different tion. meal. Via a childhood memory he Of all the nineteen occupational sur- moves to a war cemetery in Normandy, veys conducted by Nordiska Museet be- where he places twigs on all the graves tween 1945 and 1959, only two were with Scandinavian names. Later in Lon- never published in book form, the one don he meets the father of a fallen sol- about customs officers and the one about dier named Johnson and tells him that he seamen. To discuss the reasons for this, has probably laid a twig on the son’s Nagel uses Barbro Klein’s idea of the grave. In Normandy he is offered water “folklife sphere”, an umbrella term for in the home of a poor family with twelve all the disciplines and spheres of interest children, and he promises them clothes, aiming to study and preserve expressive 198 Reviews forms of folklife and to highlight them tual apparatus reveals that he is a lone in public arenas such as museums. Klein wolf. But it is also a sign that he is an in- has shown how the Swedish folklife dependent thinker with great personal sphere has cultivated a special kind of integrity. ambivalence and “home blindness”. A This is a book that makes a substan- stereotyped national idyll has been built tial contribution to the folkloristic re- up, excluding groups such as Sami, Ro- search tradition concerning folk narra- ma, and Jews. To this Nagel would also tive. Nagel’s choice to analyse the sea- add the suppression of war experiences, men’s letters as narrative is a theoretical and he concludes that the explanation folkloristic stance. He could of course why these two surveys were never pub- have chosen other analytical models and lished may be that both were about oc- perhaps been able to shed light on other cupational groups whose work was re- aspects of his material. But what he has lated to what was brought in and out of done, and what distinguishes a good Swedish in the war years. folkloristic study, is that he has dug deep In the folklife sphere there is a tacit into the empirical material, turning it agreement not to speak about Sweden’s over thoroughly, examining it from dif- role in the wars of the twentieth centu- ferent angles, and he has tested his own ry. Nagel links this attitude to Sigurd conclusions and interpretations. Nagel’s Erixon’s ideas about tradition, which text is an example of the kind of know- were adopted by Mats Rehnberg. Be- ledge that cannot be acquired by read- tween the collective memories that had ing, only by practical work. There is no become tradition and all the individual doubt that he has a profound knowledge recollections that had not yet been re- of what folk narrative sounds like. He corded, there was a vacuum, and this makes the kind of astute observations was where the seamen’s narratives of that can only be made by a person who war existed. Nagel observes that, knows his material inside out. He writes whereas the modern national myths in with elegance and finesse. Norway and Denmark are structured One important contribution is that around the German occupation in the Nagel demonstrates the kind of know- Second World War, the narrative in ledge that can be extracted by applying Sweden is that of the People’s Home, an ethnopoetic transcription method to with a consistent silence about the written texts. As regards the history of world war. the discipline, he helps to illuminate The Swedish seamen’s situation dur- how collecting methods and the attitude ing the war was problematic. Sweden to source material changed during the had extensive trade with Nazi Germany, 1950s, and when it comes to Sweden’s part of which was managed by the national history he adds a piece to the Swedish merchant navy. The attitudes of puzzle describing Sweden’s relationship the letter writers to this differed. Some to the Second World War. avoided saying anything, others portrayed themselves as innocent victims of Ulf Palmenfelt circumstances or as heroes taking risks Visby, Sweden to save themselves and their comrades. This is a dissertation that has taken a long time to write. It is a powerful achievement to finish an academic dis- Uses of History sertation without continuous contact Niels Kayser Nielsen: Historiens for- with a research seminar. The way Nagel vandlinger. Historiebrug fra monumen- has constructed his own terminology ter til oplevelsesøkonomi. Aarhus Uni- rather than using other scholars’ concep- versitetsforlag, Århus 2010. 326 pp. Reviews 199 While working on the review of the flexive uses in everyday life. Personal- book Historiens forvandlinger (“The ized and materialized uses of history are Changes of History”) I was reached by discussed in separate chapters, along the sad news that Niels Kayser Nielsen with uses of history in cultural history had passed away on Good Friday this and everyday life. Finally Nielson rea- year. As a historian Niels Kayser Niel- sons about experience history, uses of sen was extremely productive. The uses history between cultural heritage and of history was one of his research fields, experience economy as well as memory but he was also interested in, for ex- and forgetfulness. A characteristic of the ample, food history and sports history. book is that more theoretical discussions Among his recent publications one can are interspersed with numerous ex- find books such as Krop og kulturana- amples and case studies, drawn from lyser (“The Body and Cultural Analy- different periods but above all different sis”, 1997), Madkultur – opbrud og tra- countries. The author not only uses ex- dition (“Food Culture: Break-up and amples from Denmark and its neigh- Tradition”, 2003), Steder i Europa bouring countries but also from other (“Places in Europe”, 2005) and Bonde, parts of Europe, especially Eastern Eu- stat og hjem (“Peasant, State and rope. Thus when Nielsen, in the chapter Home”, 2009). about materialized uses of history, dis- With Historiens forvandlinger, pub- cusses naming he not only give ex- lished in 2010, Niels Kayser Nielsen amples of street and road names in Den- wanted to remedy the lack of a basic mark, but also discuss the names Bratis- book in Danish on the uses of history. lava, Kaliningrad/Königsberg and so on. In addition to introducing the research In the chapter about the uses of history field, the aim of the book is also to in cultural history the author similarly demonstrate some of the themes and is- uses the Danish Højskolesangbogen sues in contemporary research on the (“Folk High School Songbook”) and the uses of history. The book not only ad- discussions about the Russian opera dresses university students but also a Khovanshchina as examples. With few broader public interested in history. exceptions, the book is well written and Thus there are two basic introductory the examples well chosen to illustrate chapters where different perspectives the different aspects of uses of history on the research field are presented, that Nielsen discusses. The examples along with key concepts such as his- also help to identify the research field torical culture, the uses of history and and to introduce some of the last few historical consciousness. In a separate decades’ research projects about the chapter the author also discusses re- uses of history. In addition, Nielsen search on the uses of history in other makes what are for many people rela- countries as well as related research tively unknown parts of Europe’s histo- fields. It is evident that Nielsen is high- ry more visible. ly inspired by research on the uses of Historiens forvandlinger testifies to history conducted in Sweden, not the Niels Kayser Nielsen’s broad know- least by the historian Peter Aronsson ledge, not only in the uses of history but and his book Historiebrug ( “The Uses in history in general. As a basic book for of History”, 2004). Several ethnolo- university students the book would work gists/folklorists who have done re- well. It gives an introductory view of the search in related fields are also fre- research field and will also inspire fur- quently referenced in the book. ther studies. The many references at the Niels Kayser Nielsen discusses dif- end of each chapter also help those who ferent aspects of both the conscious po- want to immerse themselves in different litical use of history and more non-re- aspects of the uses of history. The book 200 Reviews can also be recommended to a broader gards theory, Nilsson has been inspired public. above all by the political discourse theory developed by Ernesto Laclau and Fredrik Skott Chantal Mouffe, as well as Pierre Bour- Gothenburg, Sweden dieu’s field theory. The study falls into three empirical sections dealing with rape (1975–1977), incest (1982–1996), and abuse (1988– Men’s Violence against Women 2000). The first is about the politiciza- Gabriella Nilsson: Könsmakt eller häx- tion of rape in the 1970s, with a series of jakt? Antagonistiska föreställningar om articles by the journalist Maria-Pia mäns våld mot kvinnor. Institutionen för Boëthius in the newspaper Expressen as kulturvetenskaper, Lunds universitet, one point of departure. The second part Lund 2009. 275 pp. English summary. is about the incest debate, in which two Diss. attitudes crystallize: incest as a women’s issue, with the aim of changing the The Lund ethnologist Gabriella Nilsson male-dominated society, and incest as a has written a dissertation about a topic children’s issue, with the aim of bring- that is urgent and, perhaps for some ing about quick rescue measures for ex- people, provocative. She studies ideas posed children. The third part deals with put forward by various Swedish actors abuse of women, with four different during the period 1975–2000 about aims: (a) To study how the oral defence men’s violence against women. Using of a doctoral dissertation (written by the ethnological cultural analysis, gender medical scholar Bo Bergman) as an aca- perspectives, and political discourse the- demic ritual has been used both as an ory, she analyses the function of differ- arena for a gender-political demonstra- ent texts as tools in the struggle for the tion and as an occasion to challenge the right of interpretation. dominant academic position on abuse The aim of the dissertation is “to from the perspective of women’s stu- study the practice by which antagonistic dies. (b) To investigate how the feminist ideas about men’s violence against scholar of religion and sociology Eva women are articulated as challenge or Lundgren was given the preferential opposition; how these ideas are made right of interpretation in Roks (the through a struggle for the right to international Swedish organization for pretation and the establishment of he- women’s shelters), when her research gemony in a particular gender order” (p. was described as a confirmation of the 20). The material consists almost exclu- organization’s own knowledge of sively of published texts, which is rela- women’s shelters. (c) To study how the tively unusual for ethnological disserta- division within Roks arose in the mid- tions produced in Sweden today. The in- 1990s. (d) To examine the function that tertextuality of the material is crucial Eva Lundgren’s theories acquired in the here. Different texts, debate pieces, report of the Commission on Violence scholarly articles, etc. “talk to” each against Women (Kvinnofridsutredning- other and in some respects presuppose en, SOU 1995:60), which suggested each other. With the choice of texts as legislation to make violation of a material, the study can be described as a woman’s integrity a criminal offence, discourse analysis. Many of the debaters and the concessions that were required who wrote the texts that are analysed for the proposal to be passed by parlia- here could have been interviewed today, ment. but the author has refrained from doing In the final chapter Gabriella Nils- this, after careful consideration. As re- son notes that, since the mid-1970s, a Reviews 201 gender-political view of rape, incest, idea that obligations and rights apply to and abuse of women has attained a all citizens and that the category of citi- steadily increasing influence both in zen is perceived as gender-neutral. public politics and in the judicial sys- When the group of women join together tem and academia. Yet the author is and make demands based on their (spe- struck by a sense that, while it is obvi- cial) interests, this makes the male norm ous that a great deal has happened in visible and shows that the category of the outlook on these phenomena, it still citizen is not at all gender-neutral. Argu- feels as if nothing has happened. While ments heard against the gender-political judicial practice has tried to get away explanatory model have been the de- from the view of rape victims as con- fence of sexual freedom, legal security, tributing to their own victimization (the and the sanctity of private life, themes woman was provocatively dressed, in- that have likewise been presented as toxicated, in the wrong place at the gender-neutral and have moreover func- wrong time, and so on), research from tioned as a kind of frontier outposts indi- the present century shows that this view cating which gender-political demands is still alive. In the 1980s and 1990s so- can be made. Demands that have been ciety’s action in matters of incest was formulated in accordance with these characterized by a firm belief in chil- themes have therefore been accepted, dren’s narratives about abuses. Despite but in other cases the opposition has this, in 1999 the National Board of come quickly. The author interprets this Health and Welfare withdrew the gen- as an expression of the fundamental dis- eral recommendations issued in 1991 crepancy between women’s and men’s and published new guidelines adopting scope for action in Swedish society. a more hesitant and sceptical attitude to Nilsson observes that the struggle for children’s credibility as victims. Al- the right of interpretation when it comes though the women’s shelter movement to men’s violence against women has had successfully demonstrated the ex- evidently taken place within the frame- tent of men’s violence against women, work of the prevailing gender order, not and the Commission on Violence as a rebellion against it. The tools that against Women worked to integrate a have been used in the struggle have been female perspective in legislation, beat- adapted to function inside the field, to en women are still in large measure de- use Bourdieu’s terminology, and not to pendent on voluntary aid in Swedish break it down. People have used prac- municipalities, even though this is dia- tices that have worked in both the politi- metrically opposed to the directives in cal and the academic field. Here one the bill on violation of women’s integ- could also very well cite Eva Lund- rity. One may wonder, with Nilsson, gren’s discussion of constitutive and why a radical change has not been regulative levels. Changes can take achieved when it was actually possible place more or less in consensus on the politically. surface, without abandoning a basic un- One answer to the question could be derstanding of gender and a prevailing that the explanatory model in terms of gender order. This explains the problem gender politics is still too provocative pointed out by Nilsson: that something for many people. Men are not used to seems to happen although no great being singled out as a group in the way change takes place in reality. that women often are. And men, Nilsson It is not strange that the subject posi- says, definitely do not want to be singled tion of feminist has served to disqualify out as a group that can benefit from the people externally, since a number of subordination of women. The prevailing prejudices are often associated with it, gender order is legitimized through the prejudices that are frequently used by 202 Reviews critics to create a negative image of fem- Nilsson’s interesting and important dis- inism and feminists. It is all the more re- sertation in the struggle to end men’s markable that women who are active in violence against women. gender politics, through the women’s movement and the women’s shelters, Birgitta Meurling also seem to shy away from the epithet. Uppsala, Sweden To be taken seriously, they did not want to appear as men-haters, separatists, or feminists. Nilsson views this as an adjustment of the gender struggle to the A Traveller’s Guide to the Methodol- structure of the demand system. This ogy of Cultural Research may of course be the case. It is also con- Jyrki Pöysä & Helmi Järviluoma & ceivable that they have strategically Sinikka Vakimo (eds.): Vaeltavat meto- chosen to exploit the potential of the dit [Roaming methods]. Suomen Kansa- system in the hope of having their de- tietouden Tutkijoiden Seura, Joensuu mands satisfied more easily. But I find it 2010. 456 pp. hard to agree with the claim that Eva Lundgren did not position herself as a The article collection Vaeltavat metodit feminist. Nilsson in fact shows in her is an appeal by a group of cultural re- epilogue how Lundgren had to pay a searchers from the University of Eastern high price for her position as a feminist Finland for the utilization of more mul- researcher in academia. tidisciplinary methodological alterna- Nilsson ends by asking whether a tives. In the preface of the book, the change in the view of men’s violence editors describe how the articles of the against women is possible against the 19 writers originated out of their own background of the conclusions she has studies and teaching experiences. The drawn from her material. Yes, she says, aim of the work is to create a genuine in- in the sense of discourse theory, change terdisciplinary dialogue in which new is always possible. The very fact that the ideas are borrowed from one discipline issue has been a subject of antagonism to another. The book is a result of the and debate means that ideas are set in cultural researchers’ own multidiscipli- movement, which is the precondition for nary cooperation in their joint seminars change. The mere talk of men’s violence and workshops. The authors come from against women means that change can different disciplines; the majority of be imagined. According to discourse them are folklorists and cultural re- theory, a return to the status quo (the he- searchers, but disciplines like women’s gemony) is never possible, since things studies and ethnomusicology are also can never be restored exactly as they represented. On the other hand, the book were. It is therefore possible, in some is marked by its local nature, and its sense, to say that a change has taken viewpoints might be still more varied if place and is in progress. researchers from several different Finn- This conclusion feels somewhat limp ish universities had been involved. The after an otherwise vigorous discussion collection has been planned as a text- and a skilfully accomplished analysis. book for students of disciplines that in- The dissertation as a whole is both read- clude the study of culture and for others able and well written, and the author interested in the subject. takes a clear and brave feminist stance. The title chosen for the collection, What I miss as an ethnologist is some- “Roaming Methods”, is an interesting thing of the encounter with people be- one, and the choice is clearly justified to yond the printed texts, but that is not an the reader in the preface of the book. In objection that will invalidate Gabriella the introduction, the editors emphasize Reviews 203 that just as scientific theories and con- al archival sources. The researchers also cepts are always the products of their employ a wide variety of methods in ad- own era and are constantly shifting, dressing their sources, and the articles methods likewise have to be examined cover quite a broad spectrum of cultural as continuously changing research tools. phenomena. For example, Kaija Heikki- It is typical of multidisciplinary cultural nen examines the position of gender and research in particular that not only con- ethnicity in the location of information, cepts and theories but also methods are while Helmi Järviluoma discusses borrowed from one discipline to an- friendship between the ethnographer other. This mutability also enables the and her informants, and more widely the introduction of innovations relating to frame of reference of distance and vicin- research and the establishment of fresh ity in research. Seppo Knuuttila writes points of view. about the production of research mate- This work, which is quite extensive in rials, and Pekka Suutari about changes terms of the number of pages, consists of in musical activity in Russian Karelia. four different thematic sections. In the It is interesting to note that, for ex- first section, entitled Tutkija luo ample, Tuulikki Kurki and Tiina Seppä kohteensa (ja vastaa siitä) [The re- have taken the methodological inspira- searcher creates the object of the re- tion for their articles from the ideas of search (and is responsible for it)], the au- the microhistorian Carlo Ginzburg. The thors state that they are examining the most interesting of the methods used, al- relationship between the researcher, the beit still very unusual ones, are the lis- research object and the research itself. tening walk presented by Noora Vikman The second section of the book, Itsen and the use of autoethnography by Jo- näköinen menetelmä [A method in one’s hanna Uotinen in her research, an ap- own image], describes in greater detail proach which she herself characterizes the methodological experiments that the as somewhat self-contradictory. In auto- writers have carried out in their own ethnography the information is located work when seeking new perspectives on in the researcher him- or herself, and their sources or on the theories of their what makes this method challenging is disciplines. The section Läsnäolon the fact that it unavoidably embodies haasteet [The challenges of presence] both a subjective personal viewpoint concentrates on questions related to and the objective approach of the re- fieldwork. Here, a central role is played searcher. However, it offers an excellent by the notion of identifying the location tool for examining everyday private of the researcher: For example, what era, phenomena, making it possible to begin age group, gender or nationality, does he fieldwork really from very close range. or she represent? Here the aim of the au- The listening walk is an interesting thors is to promote multilocated re- method of studying soundscapes; it is search. The last section of the collection, based on an examination of the voices Kaksin tekstin kanssa [Alone with the observable in the environment as the re- text], deals with the question of the researcher proceeds step by step on his or searcher’s approach to archival sources her walk. It can be used to study the re- and literary texts. lationship formed by the auditory sense The articles in the book use a wide between the human being and the en- variety of sources: interviews, research vironment, and thus for example a hear- diaries, soundscapes, and the lyrics of ing perspective can be used instead of songs, discussions in the social media of the research point of view. Movement is the Internet, fiction and texts that have a crucial element in this method because been entered for writing competitions it makes it possible to obtain new hear- are all used in addition to more tradition- ing perspectives for the research and to 204 Reviews compare different voices and acoustic broad field of research, and it would environments. The observation of the have been quite possible to write a meth- soundscape can be employed in the odological guide for each one of the four study of subjects related for example to sub-themes dealt with in the sections. cultural permanence, care of the en- Indeed, this might also have served to vironment and the reduction of the noise further deepen the examination of each pollution. subtheme. As the editors themselves In her article Periaatteista eettiseen note in the introduction, the discussion toimijuuteen – tutkimusetiikka kult- about research methods is on-going and tuurintutkimuksessa [From principles to constantly changing, and as such it ethical action – research ethics in cultur- never reaches a state of permanence or al studies], Sinikka Vakimo addresses finality. That is why these articles, too, the question of “the ethical turn” that has can serve to inspire discussion when fu- taken place in scientific discussion dur- ture researchers once again seek new ing the last few decades and which has methodological initiatives. In any case, led to an even greater interest in the Vaeltavat metodit offers students of ethical principles of research work. Va- closely related disciplines an interesting kimo successfully and in some detail as- traveller’s guide to the fields of cultural sesses the challenges related to the studies. teaching of research ethics. She emphasizes that it is important, especially in Sofia Kotilainen, multidisciplinary cultural studies, for Jyväskylä, Finland the researcher to locate his or her own engagements and starting points and to make them visible to the reader. Further- more, according to Vakimo, it would be Analysing an Interview necessary for researchers to learn to Johanna Ruusuvuori & Pirjo Nikander identify in advance the possible ethical & Matti Hyvärinen (eds.): Haastattelun problems related to their own research. analyysi [Interview Analysis]. Vasta- The writers of the book have striven paino, Tampere 2010. 469 pp. to show the reader how the method chosen by him or her might advance cultural Anyone who has tried to teach students studies. The authors reflect on their own how to conduct research knows how methodological choices in a praise- problematic it can be to put into words worthily way and give the reader plenty the multidimensional analysis process of examples of how the use of these new and to give concrete guidelines. Similar- methods has affected their work. The ly, anyone who has experienced sitting authors of the articles refer to each down for the first time to analyse inter- other’s earlier studies, but with a few ex- view material knows how scary it can ceptions they do not really refer to each be. The fact that this process is not inde- other’s articles in this particular book pendent but is interwoven throughout even though the texts have been pre- the different parts of the research does pared by them in joint seminars and not make the task any easier. A guide- meetings. Visibly linking the articles to book entitled Haastattelun analyysi will each other would have made the collec- therefore – I suspect – raise expectations tion an even more integral unit. among both university students and For the reader, Vaeltavat metodit teachers. The book complements a re- opens up a wide-ranging view into the cently published anthology dealing with methods used by folkloristics and cul- the interview process (2005), and the tural studies today. As the collection two together thus cover a wide area of shows, cultural studies constitute a interest to ethnologists. Reviews 205 The contributors to the book come may seem (too) mechanical and some- from both the humanities and the social times (too) quantitative for an ethnolo- sciences, and Jyrki Pöysä representing gist, but they do give an insight into the cultural studies. Ethnography as a re- various approaches to interview mate- search method is discussed in many ar- rial – which in itself is largely obtained ticles, with Laura Huttunen and Anna by similar means within diverse disci- Rastas placing special emphasis on it. plines. The anthology comprises 19 articles all The main starting point, however, is together, starting with a clear introduc- the same: choosing one’s methods of tion written by the editors guiding the analysis in relation to the field and the reader through the different analytical research questions (the determination of phases. At the end of each article is a list which is, of course, a process in itself), for further reading, which will no doubt as Laura Huttunen writes. One major help those who are inspired by the meth- difference becomes visible when ethno- ods described in the book. graphic fieldwork with interviews is On the meta-level of analysis the pro- compared with conducting separate in- cess seems to be very much the same re- terviews with looser connections to the gardless of the discipline. The fact that field in terms of how the researcher con- knowledge is produced in interaction be- textualises the process. This raises inter- tween the researcher, the informants and esting issues, especially from the per- the social circumstances is the starting spective of Finnish ethnology and the point in both social sciences and humani- current change to a more comprehensive ties. Many articles emphasise the impor- repossession of the field. tance of contextualising the source mate- On the positive side we have been rial – and not without reason. adept at problematizing the nature of re- The fact that the researcher’s expec- membering and sharing experiences and tations may not correspond with the re- memories for some time now. Where we ality within the source material, and the have less competence is in analysing the need to move forwards and backwards way the new ethnographic interest in the conceptualising process are also affects how we interpret these experi- cross-disciplinary phenomena. The de- ences. scription of the process will no doubt be We may very well ask if and how the of help to anyone who experiences a way we understand ‘fieldwork’ also af- lack of confidence when thinking about fects to the way we see the dialogue be- the various directions in which the tween the field and the researcher. The source materials may lead, reassuring role negotiation between the researcher them that it is an inevitable part of the and the researched that goes on during process and, as such, a necessary phase. the dialogue affects the substance – in The concrete descriptions of the differ- terms of both the means and the forms of ent phases, such as grouping and organ- the narration – and the process of ana- ising, identifying and listing (Anna Ras- lysing the interview, as Jyrki Pöysä tas), and the different levels of analysis points out. (Tarja Aaltonen and Anna Leimumäki) The book ends with several articles dissipate the needless scientific glamour dealing with concrete aspects such as from what is a truly down-to-earth phase transcription, working with translated of research. interviews and conducting interviews in Most of the book is dedicated to giv- a language other than one’s own: all of ing examples of different ways of con- these are important, practical and very ducting analyses. It is here that the disci- topical issues. For me the most relevant plinary differences become visible. question addressed in the last section is Some of the methods and viewpoints in an article dealing with the computer- 206 Reviews ised analysis of qualitative data. In fact, My advice to the reader is to be open- the authors Outi Jolanki and Sanna Kar- minded with regard to all the articles, hunen raise a question that bothered me but always to bear in mind the basic somewhat when I was reading through principle: choose the method of analysis some of the preceding articles concern- that suits your field. As Matti Hyvärinen ing how computer programs can cope writes, doing narrative research is not a with qualitative research. Is it not too solitary process or method, but neither is mechanical a tool for that purpose? The it mere impressionist evaluation. This authors draw an analogy between the comment applies to all interview analy- production of qualitative analysis and of sis. The process demands hard work, handicrafts, in which process the actor and also improvisation and creativity – and her creativity are in the focal posi- and this combination is its real essence. tion. They emphasise, however, that the Pia Olsson programs are geared more to mastering and archiving source materials than to being used as analytical tools. Reading through some of the articles on computer-aided analysis, however, I found Researching Folk Religiosity the process – in a word – too mechani- Torunn Selberg: Folkelig religiøsitet. Et cal. This is not to say that the resulting kulturvitenskapelig perspektiv. Sparta- insights are thin or unimportant. It is just cus forlag, Oslo 2011. 174 pp. that they represent a very different kind of world than I, as an ethnologist, am The folklorist Torunn Selberg at the used to. University of Bergen has been studying I am not advocating that all that is un- modern folk religiosity in Norway for a familiar should be swept aside. On the long time, often with a focus on New contrary, some of the methods that are Age ideas. At the end of the 1990s she seldom used in ethnology such as group was involved in the interdisciplinary interviews, and the relevant analytical research project Myth, Magic and Mir- processes, could also bring a new per- acle in the Encounter with Modernity. spective to our research themes. She has also been an active participant The book incorporates a multitude of in the international research network viewpoints, so much so that you may Folk Religion within the Société Inter- feel a little lost at first. Some of the ar- nationale d’Ethnologie et de Folklore, ticles also dive so deeply into specific SIEF. analytical processes and the theoretical Selberg presents here a lucid summa- perspectives underlying them that it may ry reflecting on many years of personal be difficult to understand them properly research experience. She alternates be- within the short presentation the format tween studying bygone folk belief and allows. As Jukka Törrönen points out, today’s neo-religiosity, and the encoun- the same empirical material can lead to ter between them in our own time. All different conclusions according to the this is included in the term “folk religi- theoretical perspective, and the reader osity” or the alternative expression can test the empirical questions of the “non-organized religiosity”, which is researcher with the help of the concrete distinguished from organized and ac- interview extracts and their interpreta- knowledged forms of religion. “There tions in the different articles. At least I are forms of religiosity that can be per- found myself making my own interpre- sonal, creative, and linked to experience tations, which did not always concur rather than dogmas and institutions” (p. with those given in the book. 10). Since there is such clear emphasis Reviews 207 on the individual level, we find many ratives of modern miracles through folk variations within folk religiosity. Ex- healing. The informant Liv has told amples of these are the healing per- Selberg in detail about a folk healer in formed by “Snåsamannen”, the Nor- Bergen in the 1940s and 1950s. He went wegian Princess Märtha Louise’s angel under the name “Losen”, because he school, or notions even today about the was a maritime pilot and believed that huldra or wood nymph (Swedish skogs- his work was steered by God. The in- rå). A salient thesis in the book is that formant Gunvor was also healed by recent forms of folk religiosity are close- “Losen” and told Selberg about it much ly linked to old folk beliefs, such as later. Although miracles disappeared those that were part of the official Cath- from the established church after the olic religion before the Reformation. Reformation in Norway, stories about Over time we can witness continuity and them and belief in them continued to be tradition, but also changes and adapta- handed down in popular religiosity. For tion to new situations. Given that Selberg this is a clear expression of con- Selberg is a folklorist, oral narratives are tinuity over a long time. an important source for her, but also var- The next chapter deals with modern ious forms of popular media. “People’s pilgrimages, with the prime example be- experiences are grounded in folk religi- ing the island of Selja, which was a des- osity, and narratives about experiences tination for pilgrims as far back as the are therefore primary sources” (p. 27). Middle Ages, when it was linked to the After a lengthy and important intro- legend of Saint Sunniva, patron saint of duction about research outlooks and Bergen. There has been a noticeable re- scholarly concepts, Selberg selects dif- vitalization in our days. Selberg is most- ferent empirical examples in the subse- ly interested in the stories about these quent chapters. The first example con- modern pilgrimages. It would have been cerns ideas about the huldra that occur beneficial if she had also published and not just in old folk belief but also in our discussed pictures of these pilgrimages. own times. A hairdresser’s salon in She makes comparisons with present- Bergen has been given the name “Hul- day journeys along the pilgrim routes dra”, and when a workshop was estab- opened in 1997 between Oslo and lished to make jewellery in 1994, the Trondheim and between Telemark and company was called “Huldresølv AS” Røldal. Trondheim and Røldal, like (Huldra Silver). The huldra has also Selja, were places of pilgrimage during been given a place in the Norwegian the Middle Ages. A characteristic fea- tourist industry and in modern market- ture of today’s pilgrimages is that the in- ing. Since this supernatural creature of dividual is more at the centre than the folklore is considered in this book, it collective, and that the journey itself has seems as if Selberg makes no sharp dis- become more important than the desti- tinction between the concepts of folk be- nation. Similar trends are also found in lief and folk religiosity. In this respect other countries in northern Europe. The she differs radically from older folklor- impulses, in my opinion, could very well ists in Norway, who made a sharp dis- have come to Norway from outside in tinction between folk belief and folk re- modern times, even though Selberg en- ligion. The latter was not a part of the visages continuity within Norway with folklorist’s research field, coming in- roots going back to Catholic times. This stead under the study of religion. It is was before pilgrimages were prohibited good that this old division has ceased to in Denmark and Norway as a result of exist. What people believe in, without the Reformation in 1536/1537. On the restrictions, is decisive. pilgrimages to Selja she writes: “Despite A subsequent chapter discusses nar- an interruption of many hundred years, 208 Reviews continuity is established with the pil- attitude to the past, to which people feel grimages of the past” (p. 76). The basis a direct relationship. Selberg finds evi- for the argumentation is far too weak, dence of one such historical orientation however. One criticism of the idea of both through New Age–inspired publi- continuity over a long time has been that cations and through her own interviews the researchers in question have drawn with informants such as Inger, who has too far-reaching conclusions in the ab- become a shaman with a keen interest in sence of any (strong) evidence for the the cultures of “primitive” peoples. many intermediate stages that can ex- I can conclude by saying that this tend over hundreds of years. book has a great deal to give, as regards In several cases newspapers are an both theoretical and concrete matters, to important source for Selberg in the study anyone interested in the domains of folk of neo-religiosity. There can be confron- religiosity. These domains have actually tations in a local setting when new been expanded through new fields of Asiatic and mystic movements are es- study concerning both the present and tablished in Norway. An example of this the past. It is valuable that Selberg has is the debates at the start of the new mil- summed up her many years of experi- lennium about a retreat centre, “Mystic ence in this research field. A reader out- Mountain” or “Dharma Mountain”, in side the field gets a better grasp from a the little community of Hedalen in concerted volume like this than from Valdres, with about 800 inhabitants. The scattered articles and debating pieces by leader was a guru named Vasant Swaha. the same author. Selberg has not studied this movement from the inside, instead following the re- Anders Gustavsson actions of outsiders as expressed in Oslo, Norway/Henån, Sweden newspapers in the form of stories and ru- mours, filled with fears and prejudices about sects. The picture of a new, unknown and non-institutionalized religi- Memoirs of a Folklorist osity was very negative. Ebbe Schön: Fotspår på röd granit. Journeys need not solely be linked to Glimtar från min vandring i tiden. pilgrimages with old roots but can also Carlsson Bokförlag, Stockholm 2012. be connected to New Age religiosity. 302 pp. Ill. They can be a form of religious tourism, arranged by special travel agencies. For In recent years there has been a growing New Age people there are magically interest in publishing biographies of de- perceived journeys through which one ceased ethnologists and folklorists. A can use meditation to achieve new ener- volume of brief biographies of Swedish gy in “the world’s power centres”, such ethnologists and folklorists appeared in as Glastonbury and Stonehenge in Eng- 2010, and a comparable collection is land or certain places in Peru. New currently being compiled in Norway. It Agers find it highly significant that these can be just as important for researchers places have a long prior history as spe- themselves to reflect on their work while cific sacred centres of a mythological they are still alive. This allows readers to character, and not just places that have follow the development of research right attracted attention in recent times. In this up to the present day. In this respect one way New Age links up with a long his- is reminded of the term auto-ethnogra- tory. This agrees well with Selberg’s phy in international culture studies, fundamental thesis that present-day reli- where the significance of the research- gious movements not only create some- er’s self is considered. Subjective as- thing new today but also have a specific pects of research have recently been in- Reviews 209 creasingly highlighted not just in Anglo- From his youth onwards he had a keen Saxon research but also in Germany. interest in studying, especially lan- In the book reviewed here, the folk- guages and humanities. He studied for a lorist Ebbe Schön concentrates on retell- long time alongside the military work ing memories and interesting episodes through which he earned his living. from his life in the service of scholarship These studies led to a doctoral disserta- and popular enlightenment. Impressions tion in 1973 and later the title of docent from his childhood and adolescence in in literature at Stockholm University. the home of a stonecutter and farmer on The dissertation was about the work- the Bohuslän coast have played a crucial ing-class writer Jan Fridegård’s literary part throughout his life. The title of the works; Schön met and interviewed book, meaning “Footsteps on Red Fridegård several times. Granite”, testify to this. The author, who In his military life Schön worked with was born in 1929, has had a chequered the media. In 1960 he became press of- career. In his native district there was a ficer on the Navy Staff; for this he did rich narrative tradition, many antiquities not have to wear a uniform, which in the form of dolmens and rock carv- pleased him well. He was involved in ings, and a barren natural environment. the production of the navy’s films, exhi- The people spoke an archaic half-Nor- bitions, radio programmes, and in the wegian dialect. At an early age Schön coverage of the Royal Palace, state learned to do physical labour, which was visits, and the like. He also instructed ra- what his parents valued most. Super- dio telegraphists. All these tasks meant natural creatures in the form of ghosts constant new challenges and contacts. occurred frequently in the local folk- Examples are the state visit of the Shah tales. As regards politics, social democ- of Iran in 1960 and the Soviet leader Ni- racy has been crucial for Schön, as it kita Khrushchev in 1964. Less pleasant was for his parents. They were also or- duties were reporting on military acci- ganized total abstainers, which was dents, which was a heavy mental strain otherwise not common among stonecut- on the emotionally sensitive Ebbe ters. The author grew up imbued with Schön. It was not easy to be exclusively the spirit of democracy, which he later rational. “We humans evidently need to fought for in his professional life. He has believe in some meaning, and I felt that worked actively to counteract bullying it gave some security to try to believe at in the workplace, and he cites several least a little bit in fate, as was so com- examples of cases where he took a mon where I grew up” (pp. 183f). This is stance. “Fighting against bullying and thus where Schön the folklorist comes against hostility to criticism is, in my in; as usual he found a connection with opinion, a very urgent task for an honest experiences in his childhood. He actual- and stable democracy in Sweden” (p. ly calls himself an “incorrigible and con- 261). scious local patriot” (p. 298). I recognize When Schön was growing up there the importance of the native district for was no future for young people in his lo- researchers of culture. An interest in cul- cality since the stone industry was in a ture can be established there, which can serious crisis. He chose a military career later become an object for collecting and and graduated from the Armed Forces scholarly analysis. School for Secondary Education in Upp- Schön’s primary work in the humani- sala in 1952. This was followed by two ties was to be in the study of folklore. In years’ study at naval college. Schön 1977 he became head of folklore collect- ended up as an officer in the coastal ar- ing at the Nordiska Museet. He notes tillery, but he did not want to spend his with satisfaction: “I had actually whole life exclusively in the military. reached some kind of goal with my stu- 210 Reviews dies and my crooked path” (p. 217). I admire the author’s vivid language. Later he also became head of the mu- His account has a literary spirit. Not seum’s newly founded folklore depart- only fellow folklorists but also general ment (Minnesavdelning), a post he held readers will take pleasure in Schön’s until his retirement. A characteristic fea- narrative ability. The memoirs are il- ture of Schön’s work at the museum was lustrated with good pictures from that he continued to maintain contact Schön’s life in both colour and black with the mass media, thus passing on ex- and white, which further enhance the amples of folklore to the general public value of the book. I personally think that on both radio and television. they could have been put in their appro- Another side of his work at the folk- priate places through the book instead lore department was a drive to collect of, as now, grouped together in a sepa- new material in collaboration with rate appendix. If there is anything else Stockholm University. It was in this an interested reader would like to know connection that I first met Ebbe Schön. more about in the book, it is Schön’s During the period 1979–1982 we jointly family life after he reached adulthood. led fieldwork with students of ethnology He briefly mentions his first wife Irma, from Stockholm in our shared home en- who had a Finnish background, and two vironment along the Bohuslän coast. daughters who were born very early in The project was entitled “Folklore in his life. I myself have noticed that the Maritime Settings”. This was where I personal context is very significant for a encountered Schön’s good organization- researcher all through life. al skills and cooperative spirit. We visit- Finally I would urge everyone to read ed several places on the coast and were these memoirs and be fascinated by the fascinated by the narrative zest of the lo- exciting and personal content. cals. Schön writes with enthusiasm that “we learned an unexpected amount Anders Gustavsson about folk beliefs at sea that we previ- Oslo, Norway/Henån, Sweden ously knew nothing at all about” (p. 284). In this context it is interesting to consider the folklorist’s own attitude to the Swedish-Finnish Relations folk belief about supernatural beings Maria Sjöberg & Birgitta Svensson found in the collected material. The re- (eds.): Svenskfinska relationer. Språk, searcher naturally has a scholarly side, identitet och nationalitet efter 1809. being concerned with what can be ra- Nordiska museets förlag, Stockholm tionally demonstrated. This could lead 2011. 182 pp. Ill. to denial and even a condescending attitude towards the content of the narra- The anniversary year of 2009 meant a tives, as did in fact happen among some focus on relations between Sweden and early folklorists. It is refreshing to read Finland, commemorated in exhibitions, that Schön does not stop here but is also conferences, articles, and books. Two open for – and feels a need for – another hundred years had passed since Sweden dimension of existence, which he calls lost one third of its territory and a quar- the imaginative, “a more poetic self who ter of its population through the Treaty believes in a life beyond death” (p. 285). of Fredrikshamn on 17 September 1809. Scientific proof is never possible here, The war with Russia was over, and Fin- but the very openness and the respect for land was incorporated in the Russian individuals is essential in contacts with Empire. Stockholm was transformed people who tell stories about folk belief from a capital city in the middle of its and religion. kingdom to one on its eastern margin, Reviews 211 and Finland acquired a new, much larger sense of national disaster in nineteenth- and more cosmopolitan capital – Saint century Sweden to the start of something Petersburg. The break-up of the king- new in Finland, the first steps towards an dom has been interpreted in different independent nation, as Mikael Alm ways by historians in the last two centu- points out. He describes in his article ries. This volume on the topic contains what happened to the constitution in essays by eleven different authors in the Sweden in connection with the division subjects of history, ethnology, sociolo- of the kingdom and the coup d’état in gy, economic history, and international 1809. Alm draws our attention to an ex- migration and ethnic relations. The title tremely interesting fact: in 1809 a new means “Swedish-Finnish Relations: idea of the constitution was created. Be- Language, Identity, and Nationality af- fore this the instrument of government ter 1809”. Nordiska Museet marked the had been pervaded by the principle of year through the conference “Swedish in immutability. But the 1809 instrument Finland – Finnish in Sweden”, the same of government is characterized instead as the title given by the Society of Swe- by an idea of change, improvement, and dish Literature in Finland to a research development. This was something new. programme initiated on the topic in Torkel Jansson brings out the long 2000. The research findings indicate lines and tenacious structures, the con- complexities that often have roots far tinuity, in his essay “To What Extent back in time – Finland was an integral Did Sweden and Finland Lose Each part of the Swedish realm for six hund- Other after 1809?” The constitutional red years, belonged to Russia for just consequences are discussed, and Jans- over a hundred years, and for almost a son underlines the similarity in the de- century has been an independent nation. velopment of the two countries after This volume highlights important as- 1809, which is partly due to the fact that pects of identity formation in Finland editions of the Swedish law were pub- and Sweden after 1809. Constitutional lished in Finland as well. Everyday life circumstances, historiography, collec- also reveals continuity and similarity; in tive memory, language, and various cul- both Finland and Sweden we post our tural expressions are considered. The letters in yellow letterboxes, while Nor- texts that particularly captured my inter- wegians and Danes have red ones; we est, besides the editors’ presentation of have five-figure postal codes in Sweden the topic, are those by the historians Mi- and Finland whereas our western neigh- kael Alm, Torkel Jansson, and Max bours have four digits, and so on. Mun- Engman. dane details can tell us a lot. The similar The historian Maria Sjöberg and the constitutional development in Sweden ethnologist Birgitta Svensson start the and Finland is also examined in the last book by presenting the term Finland, article in the volume, by Max Engman at which did not begin to replace the older Åbo Akademi. In his article he also designation Österland (Eastland) until highlights the similarities between Fin- about 1500. Nor was it perfectly clear land and Russia, for example, the fact what Finland comprised; the Swedish- that Russia and Finland have the same speaking Österbotten (Ostrobothnia), gauge for railways, which differs from for example, was often not included in that in the rest of Europe and prevented it. After 1809 both Finland and Sweden joint traffic with Sweden via Haparanda. saw the initiation of a “national romantic Similarly, in Finland the mil as a unit of upbringing project” in which national distance (ten kilometres in Sweden) was politics and language were important divided into Russian versts. Engman cornerstones. Opinions about the divi- puts forward a model of three major re- sion of the kingdom have varied, from a gions in Finland crossing national bor- 212 Reviews ders: the Bothnian region, which com- norities are treated in the Nordiska Mu- prises both sides of the Gulf of Bothnia seet collections. Charles Westin, who and is oriented to Stockholm; the Baltic has headed the Centre for Research on region, which takes in both coasts of the International Migration and Ethnic Re- Gulf of Finland, with Saint Petersburg lations, focuses in his essay on the future as its metropolis; and the inland, which and discusses international migration can orient itself to Stockholm, Saint Pe- flows in general rather than specifically tersburg, or Helsinki. Swedish-Finnish terms. His contribu- Klas Nyberg likewise stresses the his- tion thus differs from the others, being torical perspective in his study of the somewhat far from the main line of the economic consequences the division of volume. the kingdom had for the transfer of pri- This collection of articles sometimes vate property; anyone who owned prop- gives a slightly heterogeneous impres- erty in both Finland and Sweden was sion, but the individual essays are inter- forced to choose country after 1809. esting as a whole, bringing out many fas- Ann-Catrin Östman concentrates on the cinating perspectives in Swedish- Finnish changing conditions for agriculture in relations in the last two centuries. both countries, and discusses why what is described as an agrarian revolution in Eva Helen Ulvros Sweden is interpreted more cautiously Lund, Sweden in Finland. She also points out that people in Sweden have often forgotten the significance of the Finnish regions for food supply in Sweden, both before The Secrets of the Lost Ark – Mu- and after 1809. seums in Karelia and their Destruc- The significance of language as an tion during the Winter War and the identity marker is examined by Matti Continuation War (1939–1944) Similä, who links language and the view Hannu Takala: Karjalan museot ja nii- of what is Finnish and Swedish, who is a den tuhoutuminen talvi- ja jatkosodassa. Finn and who is a Swede, to school Historiallisia Tutkimuksia 252. Suoma- books from different regions and the laisen Kirjallisuuden Seura, Helsinki way they portray history. Whereas 2010. 323 pp. Ill. Maps. Swedish history books have highlighted democratization and modernization af- If a crisis arises, is our cultural heritage ter 1809, the Finnish textbooks describe in jeopardy? Should museums be better the building of the nation. prepared for catastrophes? What has Anders Björnsson, Eva Silvén, and been the value of Karelian heritage to Charles Westin concentrate on the twen- the Finnish people? These questions tieth century and the present day in their come to mind while reading the study by texts. Anders Björnsson, author and edi- archaeologist Hannu Takala. As the tor-in-chief of Baltic Worlds, holds up Finnish name of the book indicates, it is shared features in the political cultures about museums and their collections in of Sweden and Finland, but also main- Karelia during the Winter War and the tains that geographical proximity and Continuation war (1939–44) and their the fact that the countries once belonged destruction. Finnish Karelia, the eastern together need not mean that they are par- province of Finland, was officially ticularly similar today. Eva Silvén looks ceded to the Soviet Union due to a peace at the policy on national minorities in treaty in Paris in 1947. Earlier, in 1944, Sweden in the present century, with the Finnish inhabitants of Vyborg were Sweden’s Finns and the inhabitants of evacuated and Russian newcomers re- Tornedalen in the centre, and how mi- settled in the city. Reviews 213 Hannu Takala is working as an school teachers and other enthusiastic amanuensis in the Lahti City museum. people by means of university students Finnish archaeologists have organised and scientists. They were people who projects in co-operation with their Rus- had been working on behalf of Finnish sian colleagues in Karelia and Takala nationalism since the end of the 19th has led many archaeological research century. An interesting aspect of this projects, for example, in the Karelian phenomenon was the appearance of Isthmus. For amateurs and outsiders, home-district museums in the country- this kind of work with very old objects side, which were maintained by such ac- may look about as fascinating as an In- tive people. The objects found in the diana Jones movies. Seldom do we see home-district museums represented the the minute details of the work done by typical cultural traditions of the parish. the professionals who are responsible In his work, Takala introduces an ar- for objects and collections. Books about chaeologist by the name of Theodor museum collections help us to under- Schwindt (1851–1917), who was ethno- stand the function of the museum. Of logically oriented and worked within the course, they are also extremely impor- museum field. He taught local amateurs tant for the museums themselves. to work for their home district and he The subject of Takala’s book is the demonstrated for them how to collect Karelian past. Many studies have been materials in Finnish Karelia. Schwindt done on Karelia, including works on was an enthusiastic defender of local oral traditions of the region, habits of culture and a politician representing a everyday life, material culture and per- positivistic paradigm, meaning that he sonal memories. After the fall of the So- favoured the special features of the local viet Union 1991, the focus has mostly province and the areas around it. He col- been on the experiences of the evacuated lected local objects and people’s prized Karelians. At the moment, academic in- personal possessions for the local Karel- terest is not directed at the Karelian cul- ian museums until the year 1939. ture as such, but, rather, at interpreta- The short but tragic Winter War be- tions and reconstructions of meanings of gan in same year and, as a result of it, it. Takala’s study is different in that it over 400 000 persons were evacuated stresses the personal voices of Karelia, from Karelia to the western part of the and therefore it is an interesting case in country. Museums did not prepare suffi- the research field. His analysis is based ciently for the approaching crisis and solely on material studies, statistical cal- museum professionals did not under- culations and collections of museums stand the seriousness of the situation. before the wars. Also, he uses contem- The Winter War lasted for four months, porary articles from newspapers. Takala and soon after the Continuation War be- includes for his readers massive gan in 1941. All total, the wars lasted for amounts of materials in the form of il- almost five years. lustrations to make clear the enormity of Consequently, thousands of museum the loss for Karelia because of the events objects were destroyed during the of the war. bombing campaigns or they disappeared Takala gives an account of several in some other way. A huge amount of museums in the district before the World cultural knowledge and numerous mate- War and he also provides a definition for rial documents on old traditions were the concept of a museum by describing lost in the catastrophe. The wars were its origins. The concept of a museum particularly catastrophic for the histori- was unclear to many people until pro- cal and ethnological museum of Vyborg. vincial museums were founded. Mu- There were over 16 500 objects in its seum collections were organized by collections and only 20 per cent of the 214 Reviews objects survived. For example, more of might speculate about the national ori- the collections from the Art Museum of gin of the objects. I think the author has Vyborg and museum of the town of Sor- made a wise decision in putting all tavala survived. After all, the period rep- speculation aside in order to focus on resented the end for all museums in this more general questions. The study is eastern province of Finland. The surviv- written in Finnish. Russian researchers ing objects were transferred from Kare- will no doubt also be interested in turn- lia to western Finland, to several mu- ing their attention to Karelia and its museums in Lahti, Lappeenranta, Hämeen- seums during such a long time frame linna and Joensuu, which take care of and a short abstract in English or in Rus- the Karelian artefacts to this day. sia would serve them well. The most interesting part of the study Hannu Takala works with his mate- involves a question about rise of the mu- rials carefully and exactly. Neverthe- seum phenomenon within the context of less, he has not avoided some national the national awakening in Karelia. On pathos, which is often involved in stu- the one hand, it would be interesting to dies about Karelia. Takala does not ex- know how museums were planned in the plain the ontology of his study like Outi various localities and how they were Fingerroos, nor does he talk openly perceived by the local people, and, on about his own location within the field the other hand, how these ideas have of academic research on Karelia. The been sustained until the present time. In task of this study is to question national addition to official museums having to heritage, not to theorize about it. How- do with Karelian culture, some private ever, the study must be perceived as ba- and local museums have been main- sic research on a neglected subject and, tained by Karelian societies in Finland thus, it provides very useful informa- until the present day. tion, especially for museum profession- At the end of his book, Takala takes a als who are specialising in questions of look at old objects in museum exhibition preservation or Karelian culture in Fin- in Russian Karelia today. The author land. says that there is no further evidence for analysing the Finnish origin of some of Terhi Pietiläinen the objects. Probably, many Finns who Helsinki, Finland travel to their former home district Reviews 215 Books Received by the Editor 2011–2012

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