The Nigh-Hag Visiting Lapland Witches

This article was written by my daughter Elena Maghsoodnia while studying at NYU. It took many centuries for male dominated political institutions (often under the flag of religion) to create and control the narrative around the role of women in society. It will take many generations of strong leaders like Elena to undo the damage.

The concepts of witches and female deities are long entrenched in cultures worldwide, appearing in literature and art time and time again, though the implications often changed. From wise women to evil demons, the perception of women that stood outside of the norms of society rose and fell through history, reaching points of incredible persecution at many times. As polytheistic practices weaned throughout Europe, and religious missionaries spread the churches ideals, acceptance for women who lived independently of others, or practiced old rituals rapidly declined, until there was an international agreement that such women were clearly workers of Satan. Henry Fuseli’s The Night-Hag Visiting Lapland Witches, once renamed to Lapland Orgies by Fuseli, stands as a clear representative of such. Meant to depict a representation of the goddess Hecate amidst a clear act of ritual witchcraft. Unmistakably a work of horror, meant as such by Fuseli, it paints a dark reality for modern audiences. A culmination of anti-witch sentiments of the 1400s and on, the pervasiveness of Christian influence, and the raging misogyny of the time, the painting gives a glimpse into the place of women in history, particularly powerful ones.

In Ancient Greece and many surrounding societies, the goddess Hecate was a revered part of the pantheon. Most often titled as the goddess of magic, witchcraft, and the crossroads. She was a beloved protector of the oikos, a household goddess, among Athena, Zeus, and with women often keeping shrines to her in return for safety in their homes. “Hekate was worshipped in five primary roles … Propylaia (Guardian), Propolos (Guide and Companion), Phosphoros (Light-Bringer), Kourotrophos (Goddess of Women), and Chthonia (Goddess of the Underworld)” (Rose, 2001, p. 174). Commonly depicted as a beautiful dark haired woman, or in a triple goddess form, Hecate was nearly equal to the King of Gods in standing and power, though she functioned as a watcher remaining on the outskirts of worship. Yet with the fall of polytheistic practices, she was routinely ignored or demonized, co-opted to become a figure of nightmares and associated with the epithet Night-Hag. The term hag itself originated from the haegtesse of Old English, hexe in German, that meant witch or sorceress, as well as wise woman and soothsayer. In Norse myths the Norns were considered such, just like the Three Fates of the Greeks. Such beings were viewed positively and reverently, garnering great respect from the people. However, over the centuries the term deteriorated to the now common meaning of ‘an ugly, slatternly, or evil-looking old woman. 2 archaic. a : a female demon.’ Before the 1400s the concept of the witch in that sense, an ugly, immoral woman of magic, was not common in many cultures. By the 1420s, suddenly there were similar tales being told across Europe of devil women who drank the blood of children and communed with the Devil. Historians point to a group of traveling friars in the Swiss Alps on a mission to combat heresy as the originators, who later recorded these stories as official documents. (Leeson) The rise of these beliefs led to a surge of theologians writing books, such as the infamous Malleus Maleficarum that served as the ultimate guide to witch hunting, on how to identify and combat them and subsequently fanned the mass hysteria. Between 1400 to 1782, when Switzerland tried and executed Europe’s last supposed witch, between 40,000 and 60,000 people were put to death for witchcraft, according to historical consensus. The count exceeds 80,000 by far when considering the rest of Europe. (Guliford) The majority of women who fell to these stereotypes and superstitions were those who existed as ‘Others’ in society. The herbalists, midwives, widows and elderly women, those who were promiscuous, or conventionally ugly. Thus the witch hunts began to mean that deviating from the expected role of women in their societies could become fatal.

Painted by Fuseli in 1796, the Night-Hag piece was part of a collection inspired by Milton’s Paradise Lost, a deep dive into the gothic horror genre that Fuseli adored. The inspirational passage was “Nor uglier follow the night-hag when, called, / In secret, riding through the air she comes, Lured with the smell of infant blood, to dance / With Lapland witches, while the laboring moon Eclipses at their charms.” (Milton 622), describing the hellhounds gathering around Sin while referencing the following of Hecate, the goddess of magic. A drastic departure from the view of Hecate as she was meant to be, it shows the clear backlash to not only pagan values, but pagan figures that countered the ideas about women the Church had at the time. Paradise Lost co-opted the powerful goddess and dressed her in nightmares, perverting her strengths into cruelties. The hellhounds in the back draw inspiration from the hounds of Hecate, whose original purpose was to aid her in leading mortals through important crossroads, whether through the gates of death or self-discovery (Nixon 20). And so, a direct correlation is drawn between fear of powerful women and increasingly negative depictions of their symbols.

Those viewing the painting would already have had a nightmarish view of witches and their ilk, so the painting drew on present fears, reinforcing the image in their minds. The scene is gruesome from the first glance, easily conveying a sense of horror and macabre ritual. The colors and figures work to unsettle the viewer, shrouding grotesque figures with hazy greyness and sickly yellow lighting. The references to illness and pestilence in the coloring and unhealthy pallor of skin acts as a reversal to the typical place of women as gentle healers in society. The clear centerpiece of the painting is the night-hag and her ritual, the child laying on the altar. The light focuses entirely on the two, casting the surrounding images back from view. Despite the title of the painting, the babe takes more of a spotlight, the lightest thing in the piece. The light represents the purity of the soul, in a Christian framework, associating the child with innocence and goodness. Thus, in opposition, the witch is cast as immoral, the light of her skin a haunted grey unlike the fair skinned women in European paintings of the time. The clearly grotesque image of the witch relies upon the value of beauty in women to make an even more significant impact. A woman’s worth in 1700’s Europe was deeply tied to her beauty, as that denoted her luck in marriage or the favor of men which her life relied upon. As a result ‘ugliness’ was demonized to the extent of being associated with immorality.

The witch’s stature adds to the meaning as well, more heavy set than would have been admired, painted as muscular rather than curved. The hands in particular appear nearly masculine, including those offering up the knife, with broader palms and knuckles painted. There is of course the implication that witches were thus not women but a manner of beings, barred from femininity, but there is an underlying dialogue of the otherization of queer and trans women in that depiction. The demonization of such women in artworks undoubtedly was reinforced by or led to prejudice of women who would have appeared more masculine leaning or outside the rigid gendered appearances that held up for so many centuries. Longer perusal of the painting draws the eye toward the other details of the Night-Hag herself, particularly pulling to the shock of black upon her head. First appearing as hair, it seems to actually be a cape or black fur or feathers, referencing the legends of clack cloaked sleep demons that haunt humans rest. Under that however, her hair appears a shock of white and grey, blending with her body. The resemblance to greying or whitened hair is great, associating the night-hag with an elderly woman. Consequently old women were particularly vulnerable to witch hunts, over 70% of the accused being over fifty in Germany, similarly in other territories (Rowlands 50). In addition to their age, these women were usually single or widows. Sixty four percent of accused were widowed in the Saar region of Germany, similarly fifty percent in the Duchy of Lorraine (Briggs 57). Through both the painting and the history behind it, the societal view of aging women is seen. Their treatment deteriorates as the seeming value lowers with the loss of beauty and fertility, a trend that has unfortunately continued into the 21st century.

The position of the hag, leaning over and almost gently holding the child, is a near blasphemous reflection of the common portraits of Madonna and Child that were so popular in 1700s Europe. It is a parody of a mirror, appearing as a perversion of motherhood and the ‘holy scene’ depicted, creating correlation between sin and the corruption of motherhood. There was an enormous pressure for women, whether of low or high class, to serve as mothers first and foremost, particularly with the pervasively patriarchal mindset of the church. Thus a corruption of such would serve as going against the very nature of womanhood in the eyes of Fuseli’s audience. Of course, though it could be a mere addition to the corruption of immoral women, by the time of painting this Fuseli himself had renounced the church. Growing up in Switzerland under an incredibly religious father he was sent to become a minister and actually ordained as a priest in 1761. His time in London however saw him publicly declaring himself as a non-christian by 1767 (Art Story). The drastic change speaks to dissatisfaction with the Church itself, perhaps his fascination with the dark and grotesque having a hand in it as well. With that context the pose adopts another meaning, a personal criticism of the corruption with the Church, mocking their hypocrisy toward ‘immorality’ with his parody.

The intention of the piece is rather murky, as Fuseli’s message could have been drastically different than the actual effect. The audience of his time would have taken it as a reinforcement of the evil seen in these women, viewing them as a blight on feminist and their religion. However, Fuseli’s choice of subject could act as a step forward in many ways. He treated the work with a sort of reverence, insisting that “it required a poetic mind to feel and love such a work” (Fuseli). His fascination with horror created the implication that it was something to be savored, feared perhaps but also noticed, drawing those like Hecate and the witches of old out of the obscurity those like Zwingli tried to force them into. The step he took, and those of countless other artists truly did culminate over time, as women fought back to reclaim the symbol of the witch and its power along with it. The present day has seen a widespread acceptance of the figure, drawing Hecate back to her pedestal and spreading Wicca hand in hand with the women’s liberation movement. 2020 saw the emergence of feminine driven witchcraft into the public sphere as a trend rapidly gaining momentum, with ties to the various subcommunties, dark academia, cottagecore, etc., that are often occupied by young women and the queer community. Increasingly positive association draws the figure of the witch back into the light as a woman of strength, the otherness that was so despised now making her extraordinary. So with the reclamation of Hecate and her witches, comes the slow reclamation of power from the patriarchal values that shaped Western values for so long and have slowly begun to be dismantled.

Works Cited

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