-Deaths Door-

- The History Of The Grim Reaper-

By: Honey Morales

The grim reaper, a hooded, skeleton-like figure brandishing a scythe, has become a common modern symbol of death. It's frightening, to be sure, but it's been around for so long that it's just as likely to be satirized as it is to be portrayed as the unstoppable force of nature it represents.

It looks like one of those all-seeing, all-present creatures that have been around since humans learned the hard way what death is, but it's not nearly as old as one might think. Let's deep dive and discuss the grim reaper. When compared to otherworldly creatures, the grim reaper is a little different because we know the exact date and location of the first depiction of him. The 13th-century illustration titled "The Legend of the Three Living and Three Dead" is credited with being the first to depict death as a skeletal portent.

A short story with the same title served as inspiration for the illustration. (It, too, dated back to the 1300s.) It is a compelling story that has endured for centuries (the Canterbury Cathedral copy is from the 16th century). Three men are out hunting when they come across three bodies. This is just one version of the story; others exist. The first appears to have died recently, the second has undergone significant decay, and the third is reduced to mere bones. However, they are all still able to communicate, and they have a message for the three men who are still alive: life is short, so be careful with the decisions you make. Why? They, too, were destined to become cadavers.

Countless manuscripts, illustrations, and artwork featured the three dead, as reported by The British Library; occasionally, nobles commissioned works depicting themselves alongside the skeletal messengers. It was meant to be a stark warning to live each day as if it were your last.

There appears to have been a progression from the animated skeleton to the modern depiction of the grim reaper. When compared to today's grim reaper, those old-fashioned images were lacking in a few key areas. The frescoes of a cemetery in Pisa, Italy, feature some of the earliest depictions of death carrying a scythe.

According to Art in Tuscany, the construction of the entire cemetery and its frescoes began in 1278 and was completed sometime in the 15th century. In the mid-1300s, the first frescoes were added to the structure, which was built on top of an older burial ground using soil imported from the Holy Land. The first one, titled The Triumph of Death, was painted by Buonamico Buffalmacco. It was based on "The Legend of the Three Living and Three Dead," but presented an alternate reality. His version of Death is a skeletal figure with bat wings and a long white mane, brandishing the iconic scythe.

Buonamico Buffalmacco's grim reaper differs in important ways from the modern conception of death. To paraphrase an ancient poet, "pallid Death... knocks impartially on paupers' huts and the towers of the rich," and as reported by The American Scholar, Death in Pisa was a woman. This early representation of Death, dressed in billowing robes and sporting long, white hair, is shown gazing ahead at the souls she will soon claim. These people are thought to be based on those in Giovanni Boccaccio's "Decameron," a story about affluent friends who flee the city to avoid the plague. Some of the stories in it involve Buffalmacco, so he could have read it.

There is an image of a female Death on the walls of the Priory of St. Andre in France, so he wasn't the only one. A lone woman stands amongst the bodies, her hands clutching the arrows that shot the plague into people picked at terrifyingly random. When exactly did the figure of Death become associated with men? After the passage in Revelations "And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and the name that sat on him was Death and Hell followed with him" became associated with the figure of Death in the mid-15th century, it became a common theme in medieval literature.

Let's quickly review some past events: The Black Death was a devastating pandemic that swept across Europe between 1346 and 1353. It is understandably difficult to obtain accurate death tolls, but archival evidence suggests that as many as 50 million people died, or roughly 60% of Europe's entire population. The Italian seaports of Venice, Genoa, and Pisa played a role in the spread of the Black Death from Africa, the Middle East, and Constantinople to the rest of Europe.

This leads us right back to the death angel. Some of the earliest depictions of the grim reaper, which spread with the plague, can be found in the frescoes of Pisa's cemeteries. Almost immediately, the character began showing up in depictions of the plague's atrocities in art. Death appears in the company of entire families who have perished, in streets filled with corpses, and snatching up the wealthy and the poor alike. In these early depictions, Death often rode a horse and brandished a bow and arrow. That's not as coincidental as it may seem; the bow was Apollo's preferred weapon, and he frequently used arrows to spread the plague.

The Danse Macabre is an example of how people viewed death a century or more ago. There are dozens of variations on this image, but they all convey the same meaning: A skeleton that comes to life and dances for the living as they prepare to die. Death dancing with the living as they are damned to hell was first depicted in art at the Holy Innocents' Cemetery. The painting, which dates back to the 1420s and was displayed in a Paris cemetery, showed people from all walks of life marching in a long parade, each accompanied by a skeletal reminder of their untimely end.

In the same way that the concept of a single, skeletal Death spread across Europe, so too did this one. The original concept was built upon and adapted in countless ways. Hans Holbein the Younger significantly reworked the Danse Macabre in his artwork. Skeletons in his pictures aren't just ushering the living into the afterlife; they're also murdering people.

The grim reaper is terrifying because it represents the end of life as we know it, no matter what one may believe lies beyond. It's the stuff of nightmares, but death hasn't always been feared throughout history. The paintings of Hans Holbein the Younger are particularly good examples of this. Not content with merely being an artist, he also vocally opposed the economic policies of the 1520s.

The wealthy and powerful, who lived lavishly and had nothing to lose, were the primary targets of his depictions of death and decay in the Danse Macabre. The poor, however, were offered freedom from hard labour, hunger, and servitude when the same skeletons came for them. Despite the return of the Black Death to Europe, depictions of Death and the Danse Macabre remained a popular visual warning that death was always just around the corner. Artists like Marcantonio Raimondi were also active during this time, producing works that highlighted not only the plight of individuals but also the heroes who put themselves in harm's way to save the lives of others. The universality of the threat of death was brought home by the images, and the only thing that held us together was our capacity for compassion.

The Danse Macabre's death merchants provide a sense of solace. If you're going to die eventually, you might as well imagine being led into the afterlife by a procession of skeletons who have already passed through. In that case, the Grim Reaper is engaging in a bit of escorting, though his history suggests that he hasn't always been so jovial. The seminal work of Pieter Bruegel the Elder, "The Triumph of Death," marked the beginning of this trend. In addition to the random death brought on by the plague, this now-iconic piece of art also addresses the death that humanity inflicts upon itself. Soldiers in armour and armed with swords and spears are mercilessly slain on the battlefield by a grim reaper riding a skeletal red horse and swinging a scythe.

The takeaway from this and other works with similar themes is simple: to Death, it matters not what humans fight over. Since he's going to take it all, it doesn't matter and isn't all that significant. That includes the victor. Norwegian folklore had its way of personifying the death and devastation that swept through the nation at a time when much of Europe was fixated on the image of the skeletal avatar of Death. Pesta, from the Latin for "plague," was given human form, and her signature red skirt became a symbol of the disease.

Pesta, unlikely as it may be, is scarier than some skeletons. According to the legend, Pesta made her way from town to town in the 14th century, and anyone unfortunate enough to cross her path could predict the number of victims she would claim. She might have caught some with a rake, but others would have evaded her. There would be no safe place for anyone to hide from her if she had a broom. Despite this, she was not heartless. One account has her paying a man to row her across the lake. When he finally realized who she was, he begged for his life. She didn't immediately respond, but instead flipped through the pages of the thick book she was carrying before explaining that she was unfortunately too busy to help. However, she promised him a painless death in exchange for his help in giving her a ride. He went to bed and never woke up; that was the story.

So, here's a query: hasn't "Death" always been associated with "The Grim Reaper" in the minds of humans? To be more precise, the practice of calling Death "The Grim Reaper" is a remarkably modern creation.

To begin, a witty bit of language development. According to the Online Etymology Dictionary, the word "grim" was first used in the 12th century and derives from Old Norse and Proto-Germanic. (The 10th century mentioned by Zarka is a little off.) An interesting twist on the grim reaper concept given its original meaning of "gloomy." What's the deal with the word "reaper," anyway? That, they say, dates back to Middle and Old English words that emerged in the 14th century, and they add that the word wasn't used to describe death until 1818. It took even longer for the term "grim reaper" to be first used in a book published in 1847 titled "Circle of Human Life." The Rev. Robert Menzies penned, "It is common knowledge that the human lifespan is limited to between seventy and eighty years. We will undoubtedly meet the axe-wielding death merchant there or nearby if we make it to that date."

The grim reaper isn't the first time people have tried to give death a shape that would be easier to grasp. Anubis, the jackal-headed god of the underworld and departed souls was worshipped by the ancient Egyptians. They wanted to discourage wild dogs that had a nasty habit of digging up the recently dead, so they likely gave Anubis a canine-inspired appearance for this reason. In addition to representing death itself, Anubis also personifies the hope of a future resurrection. It's comforting to think that gods like Anubis were around to help the souls of the departed on their way to the next world, much like the later, more benevolent iteration of the grim reaper. Qebhet, Anubis's daughter, was a deity in her own right, with the role of soothing souls that were having a hard time accepting death. Since it was thought that dead people's souls went westward with the setting sun, those who had passed away became known as westerners. It was also said that he led a vengeful army that would strike down anyone who disturbed a grave or grave site. His story was retold to make room for Osiris, but despite this, he continued to serve as a guardian of the afterlife.

Thanatos, the ancient Greek spirit of peaceful death, influenced further developments in the personification of death. (According to Theoi, Thanatos' sisters were in charge of all the murders.)

Thanatos, the Greek counterpart to the Grim Reaper, was the brother of the Sleep God and the son of Nyx, the Night Goddess. In ancient art, he is typically depicted with two easily recognizable symbols: an inverted torch and a butterfly.

That's a long way from the skeleton with a scythe, but Zarka thinks there's another link there. According to her, the Titan Kronos served as additional inspiration for the deification of death. He was a god of time who wielded a scythe and is best known for eating his children, including Zeus, to keep them from killing him. After being pardoned by his son and released from jail, he was given his kingdom and made king of the Elysian Islands, the afterlife's final resting place for the good, worthy, and righteous.