| The conference was held at Cardiff's Sir Martin Evans Building. Image by Seth Wales, from Wikipedia. |
| Baldung's Hexen, a woodcut of 1508. |
| The conference was held at Cardiff's Sir Martin Evans Building. Image by Seth Wales, from Wikipedia. |
| Baldung's Hexen, a woodcut of 1508. |
Today here at Albion
Calling I am interviewing the philologist Dr. Philip A. Shaw, a Lecturer
in Old English at the University of Leicester with a research interest in Anglo-Saxon
paganism and England’s conversion to Christianity. Having written a fascinating
PhD thesis that alters the way in which we understand the Anglo-Saxon god
Woden, he has since published a book exploring two putative Anglo-Saxon
goddesses, Eostre and Hretha. Here he gives us a unique insight into his career
and publications which should be of interest to all those with a fascination
for the world-views of early medieval England.
[EDW] You are currently
Lecturer in English Language and Old English at the University of Leicester,
having gained your BA from the University of Oxford and then your PhD from the
University of Leeds in 2002. Can you tell us a little bit more about your
academic trajectory, and the reasons why you decided to study Old English – and
in particular early medieval religion – in the first place?
[PAS]
I can remember being taken to see a stage production of Beowulf as a
child, and being given a copy of Julian Glover’s adaptation of the poem, which
is still on my office shelves along with all the other translations and
adaptations of the poem I have collected over the years. Glover intersperses
snippets of the Old English text within his Present Day English rendering, and those
snippets fascinated me. Hours spent poring over them yielded the barest glimmer
of understanding. My research skills have, I hope, improved somewhat since
then, but I suspect that my understanding remains glimmering at best. In my
teens, I returned to the text armed with George Jack’s edition – a gift from
David Norris, the English teacher who, of all my teachers at school (several of
them excellent), had the most profound impact on me. Over a summer, I
translated the whole poem.
In retrospect, it therefore
seems peculiar that I didn’t know when I arrived at Oxford that I was going to
study the medieval curriculum known as Course II. But my memory is that I
didn’t know. I enjoyed Old English classes in the first year and I read more
widely in the literature and found that I felt somehow in tune with it. I
remember feeling rather nervous when the time came to choose Course II and I
had to declare that I was abandoning all modern literature in favour of a diet
of Old English, Old Saxon and Gothic. My interest in the study of early
medieval religious life developed in my second and third years. I had the
pleasure of tutorials with Malcolm Godden at some point during that time, and I
recall an essay on Ælfric’s ‘De falsis deis’ that went rather off track – more
comparative religion than Old English literature was the verdict, and I have
been stubbornly off track ever since. At Leeds I was also very lucky to have
supervisors in Joyce Hill, Ian Wood and Mary Swan who helped and encouraged me
to develop the approaches to the study of early medieval life and thought that
continue to provide me with gainful employment and a great deal of pleasure.
[EDW] Your doctoral
thesis was titled “Uses of Wodan: The Development of his Cult and of Medieval
Literary Responses to It.” Scrutinizing the surviving evidence that we have for
Woden, an entity who has traditionally been seen by early medievalists as the
primary god in the Anglo-Saxon pantheon, you put forward the fascinating
argument that he might never have been an Anglo-Saxon deity at all, but a
creation of later Christian literary tradition. In particular, you ingeniously
challenge the preconception that Woden was cognate to the Scandinavian deity
Óðinn, and in doing so you have really shaken the foundations of much previous
scholarship on the subject, which has relied on transposing the mythological
systems present in twelfth-century Iceland onto fifth to eighth-century
England. What got you thinking along these lines to start with? The thesis is
available online here, but I’d
be interested if you had plans to see it revised and published in book form?
[PAS]
My doctoral work began with a lot of scraping yielding meagre results. I
embarked on a hunt for all the evidence for Woden/Wodan/Óðinn in the fond
belief that there would be quite a lot of it, and that some more or less
coherent picture would emerge. But the more I looked for him, the more elusive
he seemed. Each time that I thought I had found a source that presented an
unproblematic scrap of evidence for this pan-Germanic deity, I found that the
source turned out to be problematic in all sorts of ways. I can’t remember when
it dawned on me, but at some point I realised that if we look for a
pan-Germanic deity, we tend to see one – but in fact the pieces of evidence I
had assembled were various, messy and not necessarily from the same jigsaw.
What many of the pieces did have in common was that they stemmed from literate,
Christian traditions, and I think that the picture they provide may well be in
large part a picture of how Christians imagined the non-Christian past and the
non-Christian other. This is not, of course, to claim that these sources are
simply fantasies; they reflect, I am sure, some knowledge of some aspects of
non-Christian religious life, but they are a glass that has been substantially
darkened by Christian (and, by extension, Classical) thought. In many ways, my
doctoral work, and some of my subsequent work, has been the study of this glass
itself. I have no plans at the moment to revise my thesis for publication, but
if any academic publishers are reading this, I might be persuaded to do so!
[EDW] In 2007, you
published an important article in the Early Medieval Europe journal
titled “The Origins of the Theophoric Week in the Germanic Languages.” Based in
part on one of the arguments presented in your doctorate, you critically
examine how the linguistically Germanic societies of the Early Middle Ages
adopted the seven day system that was already present in Southern Europe, and
the manner in which they chose to name those days after pre-Christian deities. How
did you devise this argument?
[PAS]
In sifting through the evidence for Wodan, I developed a paranoid sense that
the only certain evidence for this (or any other) Germanic deity was the name
itself. The name, if nothing else, I reasoned, must have been coined by
pre-Christian Germani. Of course, I was wrong; I wasn’t sufficiently paranoid.
D. H. Green’s Language and History in the Early Germanic World (which is
a brilliant book and one of my desert island reads) assured me that the Latin
names for the days of the week were loan-translated into Germanic sometime in
the late Roman period, probably in the context of trade. Here, then, was clear
evidence for Wodan from as early as the fourth century AD, if not earlier. But
something about this picture troubled me. I had been examining the late Roman
votive inscriptions to deities with Germanic names or epithets that cluster
around the Rhine frontier, and I noticed that they draw a number of parallels
between Germanic deities and the Roman deities Mercury and Mars. The names of
these two deities are related to the names of the days of the week in Latin;
Mars gives Martis dies ‘day of Mars’ (corresponding to Tuesday; this develops
into Mardi in French) and Mercury gives Mercurii dies ‘day of Mercury’
(corresponding to Wednesday; this develops into Mercredi in French). Although
there are several different parallels drawn between a figure with a Germanic
name and one or other of these Roman deities, not one of these parallels
involves the name of any of the Germanic deities whose names feature in the
names of the days of the week. In other words, we have direct evidence for the
equivalences drawn between Germanic and Roman deities during the period and in
the area in which Latin-Germanic contact was supposed to have led to the
creation of the Germanic day-names containing names of deities. Yet this
evidence points directly away from the equivalences that appear in the Germanic
day-names. These equivalences are first attested in actual manuscripts from the
early Middle Ages, where they reflect Anglo-Saxon engagement with classical
texts. Based on these observations, I began to re-think the plausibility of the
supposed fourth-century translation of the day-names into the Germanic
languages. While we are unlikely ever to arrive at absolute certainty on how,
when and why this act of translation took place, I think that there are good
reasons to doubt the fourth century theory, and good reasons to suspect the
hand of the Christian schoolroom in the development of the names for the days
of the week that we still employ today.
[EDW] One of your most
recent publications, Pagan Goddesses in the Early Germanic World: Eostre,
Hreda and the Cult of Matrons (Bristol Classical Press, 2011), deals with
many of the same themes as your doctoral work in that it undertakes a critical
reassessment of our evidence for deities. Specifically, it looks at the eighth-century
written accounts of the monk Bede, who mentioned two pre-Christian goddesses;
Eostre and Hreda. The evidence for these preternatural entities has been
studied by other scholars, most famously by Jacob Grimm, and led some to
conclude that they probably didn’t exist. However, by utilising the evidence
from votive inscriptions you have actually put together a good case that this
attitude is wrong, and that these goddesses really were the object of cultic
devotion among some linguistically Germanic communities. Again, I’d like to ask
how you came upon this pioneering argument, and whether you think that the
further study of votive inscriptions can shine light on other purported gods
from early medieval Europe?
[PAS] As I mentioned earlier, I’d been interested in the late Roman votive inscriptions to deities with Germanic names and epithets for some time. I first came across them when working on my PhD, and I felt that they offered us an unusual insight into the potentially vast range of deities – especially goddesses – worshipped among Germanic-speaking groups. I had never thought of them in relation to Eostre and Hreda, however; my interest in these particular goddesses was prompted by research I was undertaking into time reckoning in Anglo-Saxon England, following on from my work on the days of the week. Making the connection between the votive inscriptions and Bede’s treatise on time reckoning De Temporum Ratione (‘On the Reckoning of Time’) was the key shift in thinking that allowed me to begin developing the arguments in the book. I think that these votive inscriptions still have a good deal more to offer us. For one thing, I think it would be worthwhile exploring the overlap between elements used in the divine names of these inscriptions and elements used in personal names and group names in the Germanic languages. This might help us to gain a better understanding of the ways in which gods and goddesses were integrated into the fabric of everyday life through people’s names.
[EDW] You’re currently
working on a project examining linguistic variation in early Anglo-Saxon
England, but given that this blog thematically focuses on religion, I’d like to
ask if you if you have any projects on the horizon that explore paganism and
the process of Christianisation?
[PAS]
I don’t have any major projects in this area in prospect at the moment. I am
working on personal naming practices, and may therefore have more to say on
personal names that contain divine names in the future. This has the potential
to shed more light on paganism and Christianisation, but, as always, the
material is difficult to work with and firm conclusions may be difficult to achieve.
I am also planning to publish a little something on Old English month-names
that explores local variation and the ways in which the year was divided
according to religious and agricultural concerns.
[EDW] In recent years,
research into the belief systems of the pre-Christian Anglo-Saxon peoples has
been largely archaeological in focus, with only a handful of scholars, like
yourself, Ian Wood, and Richard North, approaching it primarily from a
text-based analysis. That being the case, I wondered where you saw the study of
Anglo-Saxon paganism headed in the coming decades, with particular pertinence
to the use of philology?
[PAS]
I find that the pleasure of research lies in the fact that it is a continual
encounter with the unexpected. I hope that the study of Anglo-Saxon paganism in
the coming decades will continue to take seriously the importance of philology
for understanding the mental world of the Anglo-Saxons, but I don’t think I can
predict how the research agenda will develop. One of the most rewarding things
I do is teaching Old English to students on our degree programmes at the
University of Leicester, and they also confront me with the unexpected, looking
at things in new ways and prompting me to re-think things. In due course, I
expect that some of them will go on to do PhDs and do research in this area. I
don’t know what they will discover, or how my own work may develop in response
to theirs, but I can only look forward to finding out where the field goes.
[EDW] Thank you, Philip,
for giving us a greater insight into your research - I wish you all the best in
future.
Here’s another call for
papers that has been doing the rounds, this time for an upcoming symposium to
be held at Cambridge University.
“The Alchemical
Landscape: Counterculture, Occulture and the Geographic Turn”
Corpus Christi
College, University of Cambridge, 23rd March 2015. An interdisciplinary
symposium presented by the Cambridge University Counterculture Research Group
"If any one
book put ley lines on the map, re-enchanted the British landscape and made Glastonbury
the capital of the New Age it was John Michell's seminal 1969 tome The View
Over Atlantis." ---Bob Rickard, Fortean Times, 2009.
In an age of vast
ecological crisis and a widespread re-calibration of the arts and humanities
towards questions of eco-criticism, an increasing number of writers, artists
and film-makers are re-investing the British landscape with esoteric and mythic
imagery. From the revival of 'Folk Horror' to the cross-over between magical
and artistic practice, this 'enchanted' representation of the rural works as
both a link to the past and an articulation of pressing contemporary concerns.
This special
one-day symposium at the University of Cambridge seeks to explore the creative,
aesthetic and political implications of this 'geographic turn'. 300-word
proposals for presentations of up to 20 minutes are invited on any aspect of
this theme. Possible topics could include but are not limited to:
300-word proposals
for presentations of up to 20 minutes are invited on any aspect of this theme.
Possible topics
could include but are not limited to:
* John Michell,
T.C. Lethbridge, J.A Baker, T.H. White, Helen Macdonald, Paul Devereux, Andrew
Collins, Sylvia Townsend Warner, Alan Moore, Derek Jarman, Penny Slinger,
Arthur Machen, Susan Cooper, Alan Garner, Dennis Parry, Sven Berlin, Geraldine
Monk, Michael Bracewell, Gary Spencer Millidge, Alice Oswald, David Pinner,
Diana Durham, Charlotte Hussey, Brian Catling, Janni Howker.
* English Heretic,
Ghost Box, Drew Mulholland, Julian Cope, The Outer Church, Pye Corner Audio,
Matt Shaw, The Sinister Insult, Phil Legard, The Geography Trip, The Wyrding
Module, The Haunted Shoreline, The House in the Woods, Wyrd England Gazetteer,
The Soulless Party, A Year in the Country, Wyrdstone, Scarfolk, The Old Weird
Albion, The Sons of T.C. Lethbridge, Psychic Field Recordings.
* The Stone Tape,
Children of the Stones, Quatermass and the Pit, A Field in England, The Wicker
Man, Blood on Satan's Claw, Antichrist, Voodoo Science Park, Robinson in Ruins,
On Vanishing Land, Cobra Mist, The Living Dead at the Manchester Morgue, The
Owl Service, Robin Redbreast, Penda's Fen.
* Mystical,
visionary and imaginative landscapes, folklore, hauntology, alternative
nostalgia, psychogeography, speculative archaeology, inner space, psychedelic
pastoralism, the contemporary bucolic.
* The creative
potential of magical thinking, Fortean phenomena and parapsychological
practices: crop circles, dowsing, residual haunting, remote viewing, geomancy.
Proposals can be
e-mailed to: thealchemicallandscape@gmail.com. Deadline: 5th January 2015.
Please include a short biographical note with your submission.
Yvonne Salmon FRSA
FRGS FRAI
Preceptor, Corpus Christi
College
Lecturer, University of
Cambridge
James Riley FRSA
Fellow of English
Corpus Christi College
University of Cambridge
Yesterday, I had the
pleasure of being invited to attend the “Newer Researchers in Folklore
Conference”, organised by The Folklore Society and held at their central London
base in the Warburg Institute, Bloomsbury. As many have expressed with some
trepidation, all is not well for English folkloristics; while we have seen the
University of Chichester open its Sussex Centre for Folklore, Fairy Tales and
Fantasy, the past decade has witnessed the closure of other departments devoted
to the field. In the academic sphere, folkloristics is rarely accorded the
respect and recognition that it deserves, and indeed in many cases is barely
visible and very poorly understood. Further, folklore itself is widely
associated with Morris dancers, Maypoles, and all things twee, rather than
being understood as encompassing all of the popular beliefs, customs, and
traditions of any given society; the "lore of the folk", if you will.
Understandably, this sorry state of affairs is one that greatly concerns the
Folklore Society, and it is was clear that one of the core purposes behind this
conference was to find a way to reverse this decline and inject new life into
this fascinating old discipline.
Organised by Dr. Matthew
Cheeseman and Dr. Paul Cowdell (the latter of whom could unfortunately not be
at the event itself), the one-day conference was also attended by the Society's
President, Professor James H. Grayson, as well as its Vice President Robert
McDowall and prominent British folklorist Jeremy Harte, while Dr. Caroline
Oates kindly dealt with the organisational issues surrounding food and drink.
However, these eminent scholars were not to take centre stage, for as its name
suggests, the day was devoted to "newer researchers", which in many,
although by no means all, cases was a synonym for "younger
researchers". Certainly, the majority of us in attendance were either in
the midst of our doctoral research or stepping out into the daunting early stages
of an academic career. Although I recognised a few familiar faces from earlier
folklorist events, this was nevertheless the first time that so many of us in
these early stages of academia had been brought together in one place to
discuss the field and our role in it.
Our opening keynote
speaker was Professor Diane Goldstein, the director of the University of
Indiana's Folklore Institute, one of the foremost departments for folkloristics
in the United States. In her talk, she outlined the academic opportunities that
were open to folklorists in her own part of the world, championing the term
"folklorist" as a badge of pride and suggesting that as a discipline,
folkloristics can be differentiated from sociology as a result of its
ideological bent. Suggesting that better days for folklore studies may well be
on the horizon, she provided a number of useful suggestions for how those here
in England can galvanise to improve conditions for the discipline and bring it
up to the standard present in much of North American and Europe. This was
followed by a talk from a representative of publishing company Taylor &
Francis, who produce the Folklore Society's peer-reviewed journal, Folklore. As
could be expected, some comments were raised regarding the ethical problems of
author-financed open access services, something which has attracted a lot of
attention, at least in Anglo-American academia, over the past few years.
After lunch, we embarked
on a series of presentations, in which we each introduced our research, future
plans, and our own relationship to folklore. First up was Gunnella
Thorsgeirsdottir, an Icelandic scholar who has recently completed her doctoral
research into the folk beliefs and practices surrounding pregnancy and
childbearing in Japanese society. She
was followed by Bristol-based independent scholar and journalist Gideon Thomas,
who discussed his interests in Anglo-American folk musical traditions. Next was
Dr. Will Pooley, a post-doctoral fellow at the Institute of Historical Research
who specialises in traditional culture within the Francophone world. He was
followed by a scholar with whom I co-organised last year's third "Popular
Antiquities: Folklore and Archaeology" conference, Dr. Tina Paphitis, who
has recently completed her work on the folklore of archaeological landscapes in
Britain. Taking quite a different approach to the study of folklore was Dr.
Victoria Newton, who is presently a Research Associate at the Open University;
her specialism is in popular beliefs surrounding women's contraception and
fertility in contemporary Britain. Next up was Éva Gyöngy MĂ¡tĂ©, a Hungarian
doctoral candidate at the University of Debrecen who has been looking at the
mediality of landscape in contemporary Scottish fiction.
Doctoral student Melanie
Lovatt proceeded with an introduction to her work with individuals living in
old age homes from a perspective rooted in material culture studies. She was
followed by independent scholar Alice Little, who outlined her research into
both musical instruments in museums and on historical folklore collectors like
Percy Manning. French-American doctoral student Nicolas de Bigre proceeded with
an outline of his work with immigrant communities in North-East Scotland,
focusing on their personal-experience narratives of being an immigrant. Next
was Ben Kehoe, whose recent master's degreee thesis examines late
nineteenth-century Sicilian popular perceptions of Giuseppe Garibaldi and the
Revolution of 1860. Heading back to the U.K., Ceri Houlbrook discussed her
approach as a "folklore archaeologist" in analysing the fascinating
tradition of coin trees in modern Britain. Social historian Erika Hanna then
offered us a discussion of her work in analysing Dublin's Urban Folklore
Project, which was carried out from 1979-80. Adopting a very different approach
was independent scholar Michelle Griffiths; herself a performance artist, she
has been looking for new avenues in which to combine folklore and artistic
expression. After I then outlined my own research projects into both Anglo-Saxon
belief systems and the contemporary Pagan use of archaeological monuments,
paying particular attention to my use of folkloric sources, Cheeseman then
rounded the day off with an outline of his doctoral research in the folklore of
student life.
The conference provided a
fantastic opportunity to bring together newer researchers who are all, in one
way or another, embarking on studies within the remit of folkloristics. We were
able to meet one another, learn of each other's research, and discuss our shared
concerns and obstacles, as well as potential ways of dealing with them. In
doing so, it was undoubtedly of great value to the field. However, what became
particularly apparent was that few, if any of us, identified solely as a
folklorist. Instead, we tended to think of ourselves as scholars of
archaeology, history, sociology, or literary studies first and foremost, and as
a folklorist second, third, or even fourth. Some, including myself, were even
hesitant about labelling ourselves "folklorists"; in part this was
because most of us lacked in-depth academic training in the methodologies and
theoretical perspectives of folklore studies, but also because there are few if
any academic positions in English academia for a self-described folklorist.
Conversely, others, not least Professor Goldstein herself, urged us to proudly
label our best work as "folklorist", thus hoping that greater
academic exposure and impact will result in an improved future for the field. I
hope that she's right, and (for better or worse) I will certainly be more
comfortable in declaring myself a folklorist in future.
For those who missed my
recent lecture at UCL’s Petrie Museum on the subject of archaeology and
occultism in the films of American experimental filmmaker Kenneth Anger, you
might wish to check out a review here, authored for the UCL Events’ Blog.
Hands of Apostasy: Essays
on Traditional Witchcraft has been published by Three
Hands Press, one of the two publishing arms of the Cultus Sabbati, an occultist
“Traditional Witchcraft” group established in the early 1990s by the Essex
occultist Andrew D. Chumbley (1967–2004). Chumbley claimed to have
been initiated into a number of pre-existing British folk magical traditions,
whose teachings formed the partial basis from which he formed the Cultus,
before he went on to gain widespread attention within the Western esoteric
milieu for authoring a number of particularly influential grimoires, most
notably The Azoëtia, Qutub, and ONE: The
Grimoire of the Golden Toad. In later life, he entered academia as a
historian of religion, although tragically died while carrying out his PhD
research. Both of the editors of this particular anthology had strong links to
Chumbley; Michael Howard was a close personal friend of his, having
previously established himself as a well-known figure in the British occult
scene for editing and publishing The Cauldron, a popular
practitioner-oriented journal devoted to witchcraft, folklore, and paganism,
since 1976. The U.S.-based Daniel Schulke, meanwhile, was an initiate of
Chumbley's Cultus who took on the mantle of the group's Magister (effectively
its leader) after its founder's untimely passing, a position that he retains to
this day.
Thus, rather than being
the product of a scholarly press, Hands of Apostasy is a tome
that has been both edited and published by an occult organisation. In keeping
with this, its chapters have been (primarily) written not by “outsider”
academics but by occultists themselves, “insider” voices who here discuss the
very traditions to which they owe their spiritual allegiance. While I am
therefore accustomed to reviewing academic books using the usual benchmarks and
standards of academia, here I must attempt to do something different; to review
a non-academic work of esotericism from my own perspective as an academic
non-esotericist. It would be simply unfair if I were to therefore challenge the
contents of this book for being insufficiently academic, because they were
never designed to be so in the first place; instead I shall seek to evaluate
the varying chapters on their own merits, with critical commentary from my own
(somewhat different) position.
The Introduction
In the anonymously authored introduction – which can most probably be
attributed either to Mr. Howard or Mr. Schulke, if not both of them – the
reader is offered such an insider view of the “Traditional Craft”, or “Old
Craft” as it is also often known. Here, it is described as “a distinct body of
archaic magical practices in present-day Britain and North America, which
despite ties to past milieus of magic also thrive within modern spiritual
climes” (9). Emphasising that it is not a singular, monolithic entity, the
author(s) state that these groups emerge from “a variety of historical
magico-religious streams” but that they typically “operate in secret, with
strict means of initiatic succession, and practice sorcery characterized by a
dual ethos of healing and harming” (9–10). Following this, we are given a brief
introduction to a few of the figures whom they see as central to the public
dissemination of knowledge on the Traditional Craft, before an outline is
provided into the Luciferian world view which many contemporary
Crafters – and in particular the members of the Cultus Sabbati – embrace.
A point that I found particularly interesting was that the author seeks in part
to define Traditional Witchcraft by explaining what it is not. To their mind,
it is “very different in form, ethos and nature” from the “neo-pagan
witchcraft” (10) which was pioneered by the English occultist Gerald
Gardner in the 1950s, and which in the Alexandrian milieu of the
coming decade came to be emblazoned under the somewhat less incendiary name of
“Wicca” (on the etymological development of the word see Doyle White
2010). While I would certainly concur that there are some groups flying the
banner of the “Old Craft” whose beliefs and practices do indeed differ greatly
from those of Gardnerian Wicca and its offspring – the Cultus Sabbati
being perhaps the most prominent example – I do not share the belief that all
so-called “Traditional Witches” differ so clearly from Gardner's creation. As I
have argued elsewhere (Doyle White 2013), textual evidence for the original
theology present in the 1960s coven of Robert Cochrane – a man often
treated as the “Traditional Witch” par excellence – depicts
a magico-religious tradition that is very much Neopagan in form and content,
and that is before one takes into account the compelling evidence that Cochrane
himself was also a Gardnerian initiate (see Doyle White 2011).
Furthermore, it is also evident that the terms “Old Craft” and “Traditional
Witchcraft” have come to be embraced by practitioners in various parts of the
world whose traditions are quite evidently variants of eclectic Wicca; I am
reminded of a passage on page 385 of The Triumph of the Moon in
which Professor Ronald Hutton recalls knowing of three covens which
established themselves as “Wiccan” in the 1980s, only to switch to declaring
themselves practitioners of the “Traditional Craft” in the 1990s. Clearly, for
the author of this introduction – as for many Traditional Crafters – the
boundaries between Wicca and the Old Craft are, despite a little interaction
and mutual influence, comparatively crisp and clear. Etically speaking, I
cannot share that view; I see the term “Traditional Craft” as more of a
legitimation strategy, a way for certain magico-religious and esoteric groups
to hark back to the pre-Gardnerian practices of an older Europe, to a
historical “tradition” of witch bottles, cunning folk, and Horse
Whisperers, as a means of conjuring up a sense of authenticity, pedigree, and
heritage. Some of these groups perhaps do have such roots – Chumbley's Cultus
and the Sabbatic Craft it espouses being the most prominent example – but
others I suspect owe far more to Gardner's legacy than to those of his
antecedents.
The Chapters
In the coming chapter we are treated to an article by Chumbley himself on the
subject of “The Magic of History”, in which he offers a fascinating personal
insight into how he saw himself as embodying “a bridging position” (21) between
the world of the historian and that of the magician. In doing so, he discusses
both the “history of magic” and “magical history”. While the former offers a
fairly simple analysis of textual information placed within a chronological
framework, the latter does something quite different, instead tapping into a
“timeless” zone through which he believed he could communicate via
“spirit-discourse” with the shades of long-deceased magicians (20). As he aptly
notes however, “such truth-claims [attained from this zone] cannot be presented
as historical evidence, however[...] such truth-claims must be respected by
scholarship and treated impartially as the beliefs of a given individual or
tradition” (20), thus championing methodological agnosticism among scholars of
magic. In doing so, he offers us an intriguing theoretical approach to the
analysis of living esoteric and magico-religious traditions that warrants
greater attention from those of us who are active in this field.
A further aspect of this chapter which I found particularly interesting was
Chumbley's suggestion that some of the cunning-folk of mid-to-late
nineteenth-century Britain formed together in lodges or covens, and that the
descendants of some of these groups have survived to this day, coming to be
unified under the banner of “Traditional Witchcraft”. He further suggests
that from at least the 1890s, a number of these groups began to actively
incorporate elements from the Early Modern iconography of the Witches'
Sabbath into their practices. As evidence for this, he comments on his own
encounters and experiences with such groups; at the same time, he comments that
their secrecy prevents them from opening themselves up to academic scrutiny and
study, and that he himself was at times frustrated by this impasse. As he
acknowledges, those of us in academia are thus left in a conundrum; (not implausible)
claims are being made about nineteenth-century magical practices and their
continued survival to this day, but the information that historians require to
analyse such claims are being intentionally kept sub rosa. As an
academic, I found this a particularly interesting chapter, and feel that it
really serves to reiterate what a loss Chumbley was for scholarship in the
field of magic.
Chumbley's chapter is followed by a short piece authored by the late American
esotericist Douglas McIlwain, in which he lays out his claims to having been
initiated into a magico-religious tradition by his great-uncle in 1967 which he
himself termed the “Skull and Bones Family Tradition”. As a first-hand
testimonial to forms of American folk magic it is truly fascinating but
unfortunately – as with so many similar claims – its veracity can (and indeed,
from a scholarly perspective, must) be questioned. Remaining in the
United States, Corey Thomas Hutcheson then provides us with a comparison of
traditional witchcraft lore in the mid-to-southern Appalachians with that of
the Ozarks, highlighting how both have identifiable origins in the folk beliefs
of Europe but each nevertheless diverged and developed in independent
directions prior to being recorded by early twentieth-century folklorists.
David Rankine then returns us to the Old World to argue that the grimoire
tradition of Medieval and Early Modern Europe was influenced in various ways by
witchcraft. Although an intriguing subject worthy of further in-depth research,
it was unfortunate that Rankine did not explicitly outline what he meant by the
term “witchcraft”, seemingly including a wide variety of phenomena – including
benevolent folk magical charms – under that category, something which most
scholars would critique. A brief piece from the late Cecil Williamson,
founder of the Boscastle Museum of Witchcraft, is then included, in which
he discusses aspects of what he terms “moon-raking rites” in British folk
magic. Again, it's very interesting as a document of potential
twentieth-century folk practices, but given Williamson's well known habit of
bending the truth, such claims have to be taken with a pinch of salt. The
anthology then continues with a lengthy chapter from Martin Duffy in
which he offers an insider discussion of the esoteric, and often sexual,
symbolism of the cauldron. In doing so, he references a wide array of disparate
sources, from the iconography of Early Modern diabolical witchcraft to Iron Age
archaeology and from the writings of modern Traditional Witches to Afro-Cuban
magico-religious practices; this reflects a widespread belief among Traditional
Crafters – as among many occultists and esotericists more widely – that there
are common magical and occult meanings behind traditions that are otherwise
scattered across very different historical and cultural contexts.
Melusine Draco of the Coven of the Scales follows with a discussion of her
group's animistic worldview, in which Britain's rural landscape is understood
as being populated by an array of genii loci, or spirits of the
place, whom she believes can be contacted through Old Craft practices.
Asserting that these traditions therefore represent the survival of
pre-Christian British shamanism, her claims regarding ley-lines being
marked by late prehistoric megaliths seemingly owe more to the mid-twentieth
century Earth Mysteries movement than older folk traditions,
something that certainly raised the eyebrow of this particular archaeologist.
Howard then offers us a historical overview of necromancy – the act of
contacting the spirits of the dead – throughout European history, ranging from
archaeological interpretations regarding ancestor cults in Neolithic Europe
through to Roman, Medieval, and Early Modern textual accounts and on to the
necromantic rites of Traditional Witches. In the ensuing chapter, Peter
Hamilton-Giles offers an intriguing discussion of the “witching hour”; in
a manner echoing the aforementioned Chumbley chapter, he stresses the
difference between the historian's perception of time and the magical
practitioner's perception of time with its ties to the idea of personal
spiritual truth. Gemma Gary of the Cornish Ros An Bucca group
follows with her discussion of “The Man in Black”, or Devil, in European
witchcraft, in doing so making extensive reference to the accounts of the Early
Modern witch trials and subsequent Modern textual and folkloric accounts of
magico-religious groups such as the Toad Witches.
We are then presented with a second offering from Chumbley himself, this time
on the origins and rationales of modern Witch-cults. Aptly highlighting that
there were magico-religious groups operating prior to the emergence of Wicca
which termed themselves “Witches” – most notably the Toad Witches
and the Zos Kia Cultus of Austin Osman Spare – he proceeds
to discuss the origins of Gardnerian Wicca, seemingly accepting the possibility
that Gardner had indeed been initiated into a pre-existing New Forest
coven, which represented an older tradition of magic, but that the "Father
of Wicca" had then gone on to radically alter this tradition according to
the witch-cult hypothesis of Margaret Murray. From there,
Levannah Morgan provides a beautifully written personal account of her own
experiences with the use of a mirror as a magical tool, rooted in the folk
magical traditions which she encountered growing up in rural Wales during the
1960s. Heading into the Irish Sea, we then arrive at the Isle of Man, where a
collaborative group known only as Manxwytch discusses some examples of accounts
of alleged witchcraft and folk magical customs on the island, before suggesting
that these exerted some influence on Gardner, who lived on the island in later
life. From Europe's north-west to its south-east, we are then offered a chapter
on Serbian “traditional witchcraft” from Radomir Ristic which looks
in particular at a rite known as “Unchain the Devil”. Although an interesting
account of a folk magical practice that apparently still continues in Serbia, I
was a little sceptical as to the unproven assertion that it had its origins in
“pre-Christian paganism and Gnosticism” (247), something which appears to
represent an approach rooted in the discredited doctrine of folkloric
survivalism.
From my own perspective, more satisfying is the following chapter, authored
by Jimmy Elwing – co-editor of Correspondences: An Online
Journal for the Academic Study of Western Esotericism – on the basis
of the work conducted for his recent master's thesis at the University of
Amsterdam. Devoted to an analysis of Chumbley's work, it discusses how he
constructed and legitimised his Sabbatic Craft, before examining the Magister's
ideas pertaining to dream-like states of consciousness as a gateway to gnosis.
Although other essays have seen publication discussing Chumbley and his work
(for instance Morris 2013), Elwing's work here represents one of the very first
scholarly examples to do so, and thus will no doubt be of great help for future
researchers venturing into this area.
Italian-American Witch Raven Grimassi follows with a discussion of the traditional associations
between witches and botanical knowledge, looking in particular at the case of
the mandrake root and the connection between witchery and the forest. Switching
focus to the Welsh Marshes, Gary St. Michael Nottingham provides a
fascinating discussion of surviving examples of local folk magical charms,
which are – as he notes – without exception rooted in Christian sources. The
penultimate chapter is provided by Schulke himself, and examines conceptions of
darkness within Traditional Witchcraft. He notes that in the Sabbatic Craft,
darkness is understood as the preserve of ancient spirits, before embarking on
a discussion of the role of the nocturnal darkness in many historical
conceptions of witchcraft beliefs as well as in other magical traditions such
as Thelema. Finally, Lee Morgan offers a really fascinating chapter on the
likely influence exerted by nineteenth-century Romanticism on the Traditional
Witchcraft movement; as he points out, the Romanticist ethos of viewing Lucifer
as a sympathetic figure, adopting a radical stance against conservative
society, and embracing an interest in occult practices could certainly have
exerted an influence on the British magical milieu of the period. For me, as
someone who is really not well acquainted with the lives of figures such as
Byron and Shelley, this was something of an eye-opener, and it is hoped that
this will prove to be of great use to future scholars embarking on an analysis
of the historical development of contemporary Traditional Witchcraft and its
nineteenth-century antecedents.
Concluding thoughts
To their credit, it seems apparent that the editors have sought to embrace a
fairly diverse spectrum of different approaches on the subject of
"Traditional Witchcraft" within this volume; some authors have sought
to provide scholarly analyses of the movement and its historical development, while
others have instead endeavoured to accumulate information from a wide range of
sources which can inspire the practices of contemporary practitioners. Others
still have attempted to embrace a highly insider interpretation of particular
forms of symbolism, while a few have instead offered very personal descriptions
of their own practices and world-views. Alongside such differences in approach,
there are also (to my mind) differences in many other ways; some articles are
written very clearly, others in a wonderfully poetic manner. Some are
evidently a great deal more intellectually sophisticated than those situated
around them. Some I deem to be very good, others less so; as an academic
whose great interest is in the historical development of these traditions,
clearly certain entries are going to appeal more strongly to me, while other
readers with very different interests might have views that are very different
to my own.
One point that I feel that I should raise, perhaps a little pedantically, is
that there is a great disparity in referencing throughout the volume; when
citing a work many of the contributors make reference merely to the author and
book's title, whereas those who were academically trained have provided fuller,
more satisfying references including places of publication and page numbers. In
my opinion, a standardisation of such referencing in the latter manner would
have helped the book attain a more unitary feel and would have made further
reading a little easier.
As has come to be expected from Three Hands Press, the quality of the published
tome is praiseworthy; a beautifully designed hardback, it contains an array of
wonderfully evocative illustrations by Timo Ketola, which fit within the
distinctly “dark” artistic aesthetic which has become common within the
Traditional Craft milieu. At $58.50 for a standard hardcover and $380 for a
special edition, it isn't going to be affordable for everyone (and those are
direct-from-publisher prices), but perhaps a cheaper edition might be made
available in time; certainly, I can envision there being a fairly wide sector
of the esoteric market who would be interested in this volume, making a
paperback release potentially financially viable. The tome will be of great
interest to anyone who describes themselves as a "Traditional Witch"
or who is sympathetic to that particular current of esoteric practice. Many
Wiccans might find it an interesting introduction to forms of modern-day
religious Witchcraft which differ from their own. Similarly, many academics
specialising in both the history of European magical beliefs and/or in the
study of Western esotericism will no doubt find it a fascinating read and could
use it as source material for further research. I certainly wouldn't hesitate
to recommend it to either scholar or practitioner, or indeed (as is
increasingly common) to scholar-practitioners.
What to me this book makes abundantly clear is that there is not one singular
“Traditional Witchcraft”, but many different traditions which situate
themselves under this encompassing rubric. In the pages of Hands of
Apostasy, there are various different world-views on display; Draco's
depiction of the Old Craft as a survival of pre-Christian shamanism is clearly
quite distinct from Chumbley's description of it as a survival of
nineteenth-century cunning lodges. I thought it a positive sign that the
editors and publishers allowed this to be the case; they could quite easily
have chosen to push a Sabbatic Craft-dominated image of the Traditional Craft
that eclipsed any and all alternatives. (The only publicly-prominent tradition
of the Old Craft that was not represented was the Clan of Tubal Cain, which is
the name used by the various groups which trace a pedigree back to Cochrane.)
Traditional Witchcraft is a burgeoning and growing movement within the broad
current of Western esotericism, one which will likely go from strength to
strength over coming years, aided by the publication of volumes such as this
one. That being the case, it is hoped that further academics will join the
likes of myself and Elwing in examining this phenomenon, studying its beliefs
and practices, and in particular its early development, so that hopefully we
can develop an accurate and nuanced understanding of how today's Traditional
Witchcraft emerged from the folk magical traditions of yesteryear.
Bibliography:
Doyle White, Ethan. 2010. “The Meaning of 'Wicca': A Study in Etymology,
History and Pagan Politics.” The Pomegranate: The International Journal
of Pagan Studies vol. 12, no. 2, pp. 185–207.
Doyle White, Ethan. 2011. “Robert Cochrane and the Gardnerian Craft: Feuds,
Secrets and Mysteries in Contemporary British Witchcraft.” The
Pomegranate: The International Journal of Pagan Studies vol. 13, no.
2, pp. 33–52.
Doyle White, Ethan. 2013. “An Elusive Roebuck: Luciferianism and Paganism in
Robert Cochrane's Witchcraft.” Correspondences: An Online Journal for
the Academic Study of Western Esotericism vol. 1, no. 1, pp. 75–101.
Hutton, Ronald. 1999. The Triumph of the Moon: A History of Modern
Pagan Witchcraft. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Morris, Anne. 2013. “But to Assist the Soul's Interior Revolution: The Art of
Andrew Chumbley, the Cult of the Divine Artist, and Aspects of the Sabbatic
Craft”, in Nicholaj de Mattos Frisvold, ed. Serpent Songs: An Anthology
of Traditional Craft. pp. 173–187. Location not specified: Scarlet Imprint.