Apr 252013
 

A Celtic Witch is a story that nearly demands to have a soundtrack. The spell that draws witches into the growing community of Witch Central in Berkeley and Fisher’s Cove in Nova Scotia catches the attention of a star in the world of Celtic music, an Irish fiddler by the name of Cassidy Farrell whose fame seems to be on par with Loreena McKennitt or Ashley MacIsaac (if you watched the opening ceremonies of the Vancover Olympics you got to hear both of them, though, strangely, US broadcasters never showed McKennitt on screen). Cassidy is taking her annual break in Cape Breton when a recommendation leads her to the Sea Trance Inn in Fisher’s Cove.

More so than most books in the series, A Celtic Witch is a love story which in this case brings together Cassidy with Marcus, the protagonist of A Nomadic Witch. It’s not something either of the two are seeking: we are well aware of Marcus’ prickly demeanor at this point, and Cassidy has a highly success career and no desire whatsoever to settle down. But Cassidy has a rare witchy gift for hearing the rocks sing, and the magic practiced by the witches of Fisher’s Cove calls to a part of her which she has set aside for the sake of her career.
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Apr 122013
 

Sir Walter Scott; Raeburn’s 1822 portrait

The nineteenth century novelist Walter Scott investigated many of the Scots Witch trials (the Scots Witches persecutions being arguably the second most ferocious in Europe, after the German states), and published his researches in Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft. A number of the cases that he uncovered are fascinating for seemingly involving Faeries as what we would term Otherworldly Allies or Spirit Guides. For instance, in Letter V, he reviews the 1576 case of Elizabeth (Bessie) Dunlop, of Ayrshire (taken from the as-then unpublished Criminal Records of Scotland by Robert Pitcairn, which as Scot avers, “affords so singular a picture of the manners and habits of our ancestors, while yet a semibarbarous people,” as to be worthy of the “attention of the historian, the antiquary, the philosopher, and the poet”). Dunlop practiced as a wise-woman, repaired to by her neighbors for information regarding lost or stolen goods, or diagnosis of an illness and its course. Questioned by authorities (I’m not clear, from Scott’s account, whether or not torture was performed upon Bessie, which would otherwise not be out of the question for the “yet semibarbarous” Scots), Bessie told an amazing story.

Her prophetic gifts, according to her, resulted from counsel with a (as Scott says) “literally ghostly advisor”: the shade of an elderly gentleman named Thome Reid, who would appear to her and answer any questions that she put to him (much like the spirit guides who provide information to mediums and psychics today). Reid had died (so he told Bessie) in the Battle of Pinkie (the last major skirmish between the Scots and the English in 1547). Remarkably, he demonstrated to her his “ghostly credentials” by directing her to visit a still-living friend of his and reminding the man of events concerning their last morning together, as they traveled to the fateful battlefield. (A fascinating thing, if detailed records were made and still survive, would be to determine if a man named Thomas Reid did indeed die that day.)

For all that Thome Reid was a ghost, he dwelled (so he told Bessie) in Elfland, with the Court that resided there (emphasizing again a curious connection in British Islands folklore between ghosts and fays). Bessie had received a strange annunciation of Reid’s arrival as she lay in her bed, recovering from a childbirth. A “stout woman” had come into the room, sitting herself upon a bench and requesting drink (with which she was accommodated; Bessie seems not to have found it odd that a woman unknown to her should enter her bedchamber and make herself so at home, during a time of delicacy). Reid later explained to Bessie that this “stout visitant” had been no less than the Queen of Faeries, Reid’s sovereign and mistress, who had commanded Reid to wait upon Bessie, serving her however she required. (Scott notes that this is reminiscent of the “extreme doting attachment” with which the Elfin Queen is represented to have formed for Dapper in Jonson’s play The Alchemist). On another occasion, Reid had come to Bessie (“about noon,” a period very associated with the Fee Folk in folklore) at a time when several other people were in the house with her; however, no one else saw the specter as he escorted Bessie outside, where she met eight women, clad in plaids and “very seemly,” plus four men. They greeted her politely, and asked her to go with them. (After this, although Bessie saw their lips move, she could not understand what they said to her.) They then departed with a great howling sound like a hurricane; Reid explained that these had been the Good Wights who dwelt within the Court of Elfland, who had desired Bessie to return thence with them.

The one point of contention between Bessie and Thome Reid was his desire for Bessie to come to Elfland with him, which she consistently declined to do. Reid seemed not to hold this against her, however, visiting Bessie frequently and aiding her however he might. According to Bessie, he gave her herbs with his own hand, concocting ointments for her and instructing her in their operation; with these, she was able to cure a variety of people. Despite (as Scott acknowledges) the beneficial nature of her enterprises, it availed her little once she came to the attention of Scots authorities; as Scott writes, “The sad words on the margin of the record, ‘Convict and burnt,’ sufficiently express the tragic conclusion of a curious tale.”

Believe it or not, however, this is not the only Scots Witch-case to involve congress with ghosts and nobles of the Elfland Court.

Apr 092013
 

Pies and Prejudice is the first in a new series of witchy murder mysteries by Ellery Adams. Like Brownies and Broomsticks which was published two months earlier, it features a young woman who moves to Georgia and whose dreams of opening a bakery are complicated by a murder. However, Pies and Prejudice distinguishes itself from the witchy mystery genre in particular and from paranormal, wish-fulfillment fantasy more generally in a couple of ways.

The trope of most protagonist-unexpectedly-discovers-that-they-are-a-really-truly-real-witch books is that the protagonist discovers that he or she is a witch in the first few chapters, and the books are generally about how the characters learn about and use their new found powers. In Pies and Prejudice the heroine, Ella Mae LaFaye, does not learn that she is a witch until the final chapter. There is definitely magic happening earlier than that, and the reader is in the know long before Ella Mae is, but the structure allows the magic which occurs to take on more of the resonance of the magical realism of Marquez, Allende or Block. In fact, for the hardy Pagans who work their way through the comparatively pedestrian murder mystery involving thoroughbreds and a Machiavellian nail-salon mogul, there’s absolutely delightful scene of Ella Mays initiation at the end.
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 Posted by at 4:18 pm
Mar 292013
 

One of my favorite resource books on Witchcraft is George Lyman Kittredge’s Witchcraft in Old and New England, which provides a wealth of information so vast and encompassing that, for being written in the late ’20s, is all the more remarkable (I get the impression of Mr. Kittredge collecting great piles of notecards, and somehow keeping them organized enough to compile into a volume, in an era before computers). Unusually, Mr. Kittredge steers clear of the Burning Times accounts which so often constitute studies of medieval Witchery, focusing on the folkloric aspects of Witchcraft in (as he says) both the Old World and the New, with chapters such as “Image Magic and the Like,” “Wind and Weather,” “The Witch in the Dairy,” “Metamorphosis,” and “The Seer.” Perhaps my most favorite story is one that he retells from Robert of Brunne, in the 14th century, which seems to end with a Witch-Story moral impressively unique: There was once a Witch who possessed a bag, which she enchanted to suck the milk out of other people’s cows. Eventually, however, the “goodmen of the town” grew wise to the Witch’s trick, and summoned her before the local bishop. Incredulous, the bishop “bade the witch work the marvel if she could.” The aged beldame recited her charm, and the assembled watched in amazement as the bag grew animated, then lay still at the Witch’s command. The bishop, hardly able to believe his eyes, imitated the Witch; but the bag did not come to life, instead laying inert on the ground. The bishop asked the Witch how this possibly could be so; she replied.

“Because you do not believe. If you would have faith in the words [of the charm] as I have, then the bag would go and suck cows. You may say what you like, but your words are wasted unless you have faith.” A Witch-Story from (as Robert of Brunne tells us) 1303, but incredibly reminiscent of Yoda from Star Wars: Trust in the Force, Luke.

Mar 252013
 

Llewellyn Publishing’s issue of The Long Lost Friend: A 19th Century American Grimoire (edited by Daniel Harms) provides opportunity for wide distribution of a once very secret, but at the same time, once vital element in certain rural sections of America. As Mr. Harms says in his Introduction, “Der Lang Verborgene Freund, or The Long Lost Friend, is perhaps the most influential and well known of all the grimoires, or books of magic, to originate in the New World.” “Indeed, the book might be the most influential American work that has eluded the literary canon, and an essential document of the occult tradition in North America.” (In his Endnotes, Mr. Harm observes that the title is somewhat incorrect, as “Verborgene” is more properly understood as “hidden,” hence, The Long Hidden Friend). Published by John George Hohman in Pennsylvania sometime around 1820 (the volume is significant for being a printed practical magick book with an author’s name attached; others were published either anonymously or under a pseudonym), the book is an example of a genre called the Hausvaterliteratur (“House-Father-Literature”) of Germany, carried into the frontiers of America by German settlers in what is known as the “Pennsylvania Dutch” region (from Deutsch).

Its description as a “spell-book” is also misleading: although it is the primary text for Pennsylvania “Pow-Wow” healing systems and contains many folk-charms, it primarily serves (as Mr. Harms says) as a “self-sufficency” book, intended to provide a remedy guide for individuals and livestock living in places where outside resources were limited. Samples include “To stop Bleeding at any time”; “Another way to stop Blood”; “Another similar Prescription”; “cure for the Tooth-Ache”; “A very good remedy to cure Sores”; “A good cure for Wounds”; and “To make an Oil out of Paper, which is good for sore eyes.” As Mr. Harms points out, the book gives a unique insight into pioneer life (some of the ingredients are hard to come by today); possession and knowledge of the book were kept “hidden,” however, and superstitions grew up around it (merely having a volume in one’s home was said to protect one from misfortune, and healers were sometimes said not to be able to heal without a copy present). Widely dispersed, The Long Lost Friend has become the most well-known American magick book, with its own unique role in 19th century American life. Mr. Harms provides the most complete biography of Mr. Hohman yet compiled (acknowledging insurmountable gaps in his history); discussion of the “legitimization” of The Long Lost Friend, in addition to its influence; medicine and charming in the text; Hohman’s sources; and the various editions of the work; as well as the text, and a reproduction of the German original. An invaluable resource, this reproduction is a “must-have” for anyone interested in America’s folk-magick past, with much gratitude owed Mr. Harms and Llewellyn for making this vital work available and accessible.

Feb 262013
 

Debora Geary considers issues of neurodiversity in the fifth book of her A Modern Witch series. As in all the previous books in the series, a witch is brought into the friendly chaos of Witch Central in Berkeley. However, since the protagonist in this case has Asperger syndrome, she does not welcome the noise and rich social interactions that the nexus offers, and, in fact, Beth struggles throughout the book against her desire to flee back to Chicago and the comforts and routines of her life there.

Beth appeared in a single scene back in the first book of the series, A Modern Witch. She was leading a coven in an occult shop in Chicago, and Jamie came to a meeting and told them essentially that they were doing everything wrong, demonstrated his superior powers and then left. Needless to say, Beth and rest of the coven resented his cavalier intervention, but it was hard to argue with the results. At the start of A Different Witch, a couple of years have passed, Beth and her coven’s wounds have healed, and Beth feels its time to seek out the training that Witch Central offers.
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Dec 252012
 

James I, King of England from 1603-1625

Garry Wills notes in his book Witches and Jesuits: Shakespeare’s Macbeth (p. 35), that a number of plays from roughly 1606- by Marston, Barnes, and Dekker- have Witches in them,  admitting that Witchcraft “fascinated Renaissance audiences- it figures in many plays, directly or indirectly. In fact, there is not a single play by Shakespeare that does not have some reference to witchcraft, some metaphor based on it, some term associated with it in a technical sense.” But Wills feels that there is a difference in the way that “Witches” (a controversial 17th century issue) are treated in the period of 1606: which he dates as reaction to the Gunpowder Plot to assassinate King James, in 1605.

James I of England (formerly King James VI of Scotland, successor to Elizabeth I as the son of her first cousin, Mary Stewart, Queen of Scots) was a monarch uniquely troubled by Witches- an example (as Mr. Wills points out) of how the possibility of 17th century Witchcraft could turn into an affair of state (what Wills calls “political witchcraft”): “most of the major conspiracies against [James'] life involved witchcraft.” (p. 42) The North Berwick Witches of 1590 supposedly cast spells against him; Bothwell’s 1593 rebellion brought an indictment for Witchcraft; and Magick formulas were found on the body of the man who tried to kill the King, after the failure of the 1600 Gowrie Plot. Small wonder that (as King of Scotland), James wrote the anti-Witchcraft book Daemonologie, calling Witchcraft a pernicious crime and grave social concern. But it was in the wake of the discovery of the Gunpowder Plot, that “Witches” as agents-of-evil gained new fascination. Unsurprising, then, to find that “Witchy Women,” in dangerous and shivery ways, figure in at least four of the plays conjectured to have been put up by Shakespeare’s acting company during the Court Christmas Season of 1606.

King Lear and the Fool, in the Storm

By the time that James is ready to assume Kingship of England following Elizabeth’s death in 1603, it is clear that the acting troupe with which Shakespeare is associated, both as a writer and as an actor, is thought the best in London; they are honored by His Majesty’s patronage, performing thereafter as the King’s Men. Clearly as well, they are charged with providing a large degree of entertainment during the midwinter festival (which apparently was not thought concluded until Candlemas). This included a heavy court celebration during the Twelve Days of Christmas proper, during which the company performed King Lear on December 26. As much a meditation upon “good kingship” as anything else (and upon the folly of being a King who divides up his kingdom), it is one of Shakespeare’s more self-consciously “Pagan” plays, being set in pre-Christian (Romanized) Celtic Britain. An example of the type of language that Mr. Wills talks about, in identifying the “Witchy” characteristics of the “Gunpowder Plays” written in the aftermath of the Plot, is when Edmund calls his brother a “villain,” claiming that “here stood he in the dark, his  sharp sword out, mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the moon to stand [as his] auspicious mistress.” (Act II, scene i, line 41) The Witch-like image that Edmund the Bastard “conjures” of his brother- standing in the dark, utilizing his sword as some sort of Magickal instrument, mumbling “wicked charms,” “conjuring the Moon” to be his Fortune-granting Protector- helps to poison their father’s mind against Edgar.

The concluding play presented by the King’s Men, on Candlemas 1607, is one of the more Protestant and anti-Catholic works of the period. The Devil’s Charter (by Barnabe Barnes) purports to cover the “Life and Death” of the notorious Borgia Pope Alexander VI- father, for instance, to the infamous Lucretia, and a Pope singularly said to have owed his papacy to a bargain struck with the Devil. Therefore, this play (presented before the Protestant head of the Church of England) depicts the future-pope conjuring demons from out of the Pits of Hell, in a Magickal Ceremony that, for all that demons and hell’s forces are involved, looks so much like a modern Wiccan or Ceremonial Magickal Circle-Casting, as to dispel suspicions as to the genuinely medieval origins of Circle Invocation. However, since the Catholic Jesuits were heavily implicated in the Gunpowder Plot against James, this play of Italianate plotting and intrigue ends with demons dragging poor Alexander (kicking and screaming, ‘natch) to the eternal torments of Satan’s realm. One thing about the Jacobeans- they were not subtle in their political allegory.

Lucretia is one of the women presented in the plays of the 1606 Christmas Season as “Witchy” (according to Mr. Wills). For being the daughter of a “male Witch” (as Mr. Wills puts it), Lucretia would be expected to have Witch-Blood in her, as a Jacobean audience would think of it- a fact underscoring any moment that, say, Lucretia is seen with poisons, in a display of the dark Witches’ Arts of Venefica.

Queen Cleopatra

Another play by Shakespeare that Garry Wills believes was presented during this Christmas Season was Antony and Cleopatra. Noting thematic similarities between The Devil’s Charter, Antony and Cleopatra, and Macbeth (namely, their use of “Witchy Women,” and “Witchy” characteristics in general, as well as the evident availability of a teen-aged actor talented enough presumably to play all three “Witchy” roles: Lucretia Borgia, Cleopatra, and Lady Macbeth), Garry Wills believes that all three must have been written at approximately the same time, and in reaction to the Gunpowder Plot. An air of “Witchiness” undoubtedly permeates the air around the Egyptian Queen in Antony and Cleopatra, including references to her as a “Gypsy,” well-associated with Magickal Craft in the Middle Ages. The play opens in Act I, scene ii, upon an episode of fortune-telling and soothsaying in the Egyptian court (Soothsayer: “In Nature’s infinite Book of Secrecy, a little I can read.”) In what must have been to Jacobean audiences a very “Pagan” instance, one of Cleopatra’s ladies then prays to “sweet Isis, good Isis” to avert a comic misfortune predicted to befall her. Antony describes Cleopatra as a “grave charm,” a “right gipsy,” “thou spell,” and finally outright as “Witch,” in Act IV, scene xii, and Pompey describes her allure in Act II, scene i, line 22: “Let Witchcraft join with Beauty, lust with both!”

Macbeth enters the Witches’ Cavern

Through a complicated series of analyses (in addition to the thematic similarities between the three leading actress roles- Lady Macbeth, Cleopatra, and Lucretia Borgia- suggesting that they were all written for one particular boy-actor), Mr. Wills places the probable date of Macbeth’s writing at close enough to the Christmas Season of 1606, that he feels certain it must have been performed then (if nothing else, for the interest of King James, at seeing Banquo- Macbeth’s victim after Duncan- portrayed onstage, as the Stewart Line of Scottish Kings descended from Banquo). Something to remember: although Elizabeth passes in 1603, it takes awhile to move a King from Edinburgh to London, so it is (in 1606) a fairly new situation, James being King of England. The King and his people are getting to know one another, as it were, and it is interesting to note that two plays here (Lear and Macbeth) address very serious issues about kingship. Kind of like the Fool in Lear, I guess that Jacobean acting companies could say things to monarchs that others could not. For the record: I disagree with just about every one of Garry Wills’ interpretations of the Witches (although his take on Lady Macbeth is brilliant). He interprets the Witches as Evil (kind of from a Catholic point-of-view). I see the Witches much more from a Pagan point-of-view, which I think is how Shakespeare saw them as well. (I believe that Shakespeare tends to respond more readily to things of the country and the folkloric past, than to doctrinal things like Protestantism and Catholicism.)

But still in all: isn’t it interesting that 406 years ago, they were celebrating such a Witch-intensive dramatic Christmas Court? Blessed Yule, Pagans!

Dec 182012
 

“Watch out for Lesbians. And let me warn you about how they operate. They are very underhanded and don’t reveal themselves to you. They don’t just walk up and say, ‘Hello there, I’m a Lesbian.’ You’ll hardly know what is happening. Instead they’ll do things like introduce you to classical music and good books. Then they’ll engage you in interesting conversations that may be witty, entertaining, and filled with intellectual ideas. They may invite you to plays or to dinner and serve you some nice wine, have some flowers on the table. Then when your guard is down and you trust them and like them, they will seduce you to try to get you to bed with them.” - Judy Grahn’s Air Force captain in 1960, warning her against the predatory evils of  ”Lesbianism.” (I love how these “underhanded,” manipulative Lesbians will ply unsuspecting women with such subversive things as classical music, good books, interesting, intellectual conversation, plays, and nice wine: Oh the horrors, the horrors!! Not interesting conversation and nice wine! Stop, stop, you hyper-civilized monsters!!)

Judy Grahn

The Lesbian poet Judy Grahn’s 1984 book Another Mother Tongue: Gay Words, Gay Worlds is part Gay memoir covering the 1950s-early 1980s, and part exploration of universal Queer Culture. As Gay memoir, it is invaluable in chronicling what life was like back in the days of “the Love that dare not speak its Name” (which, to judge from Alfred, Lord Douglas’ immortal line- Alfred, Lord Douglas, boyfriend to Oscar Wilde- dated from at least the 1890s through the 1950s, 1960s, and early 1970s of Judy Grahn’s recollection). Ms. Grahn opens her book recalling being a young “Tomboy” (a phrase that will have significance, as Ms. Grahn discovers that “Tom” is an English slang-term for “Lesbian”). She credits her first Lesbian Lover (a woman whom she identifies as “Yvonne,” “Vonnie,” or “Von”) in the late 1950s, with initiating her into the “codes and signals” of Gay Life- codes and signals which Ms. Grahn will attempt to track down and understand, in the course of this book.

Medieval Witch, burning atop a pyre of flaming “faggots”

In the process, Ms. Grahn joins the military in the early 1960s (when she receives the stern warning from her captain above, demonstrating the exceptionally “subversive” category into which Gayness was seen at the time). Ms. Grahn describes getting caught up in a “Lesbian-Purge” Military Witch-Hunt. (Pause to consider that word used to denote the periodic expulsions of Homoerotic Service-Members, which used to be a norm, as well as to consider the fact that “Homosexual” in the early 20th century was often used in the same light as “Satan” was, in the days of the medieval Witch-Hunts: as some sort of deeply insidious, perverse agent of corruption; kind of serious about my analogy). Ms. Grahn describes her involvement in one of these Military “Anti-Lesbian” Witch-Hunts, which she reports (p. 175) as beginning during World War II, when “American commanding general, General Douglas MacArthur, watching the women soldiers disembarking in Japan, said to his officers, ‘I don’t care how you do it, but get those dikes out of here’.”

Ms. Grahn will go on to describe life as an early Gay Rights Activist; a Lesbian Poet; and a member of the emerging Gay Liberation Scene in California in the early 1980s. However, it is her explorations into the origins of those initial “Gay Culture” codes and signals that make this book invaluable from the perspective of a Queer Culture Theorist, as an early (non-formal) examination into Queer Culture Anthropology and Sociology. As Ms. Grahn’s research often ventures into the realms of the Ancient World Pagan, and the European Witch, her work is of interest to the modern Pagan. (For instance, her descriptions of a “protection ceremony” performed by various other women, after a break-in of Ms. Grahn’s home, shared with her Lesbian lover [on p. 197], in the start of the 1980s, “reads” so much like a Feminist Witchcraft rite such as the sort that I understand was becoming popular then, on the West Coast, that I can’t help wishing that I could ask Ms. Grahn the follow-up: Were any of these Lesbian California Women in the early ’80s, Witches?) Ms. Grahn’s findings in her research led her to determine that, “Gay culture is ancient” (p xiii), transcending Culture, Time, and Place.

Apollo and Hyacinthus

For instance, Ms. Grahn’s first lover, who “initiated” her into the “Codes of Gayness” during the massively-closeted late 1950s, described to her how “Purple was the Gay color.” Judy Grahn dutifully digested this, resolving henceforth to keep her eyes especially open for the color purple, as a potential signifier of “the Love that dare not speak its Name.” (“A purple robe he wore,” in Alfred, Lord Douglas’ description of “Gay Spirit,” in his visionary poem “Two Loves,” that yields the line, “Have thy Will; I am the Love that dare not speak its Name,” quoted by Ms. Grahn at her book’s beginning.) Curious as to how purple came to be the “Gay Color,” Ms. Grahn starts researching “purple” all over the place, determining in Chapter One, “Sashay Down the Lavender Trail,” that “Purple represents, brings about, and is present during radical transformation from one state of being to another,” noting as an instance that purple appears in the sky at twilight and just prior to sunrise. (p. 6) Ms. Grahn discovered that a Greek word for “purple dye” was “Paideros,” which is also a term used to denote the “boy-lover” in Homoerotic Ancient Greek Culture. She goes on to note that like the narcissus (a flower credited with being in a Homoerotic Greek myth), the pansy and the hyacinth (associated with the famous Homoerotic myth of the Greek Sun God Apollo, transforming the blood of his slain youth-lover into a flower) are both purple.

Cover to Jim Elledge’s collection of Native American “Two Spirit” Tales, showing a Native American Warrior with his male Wife

Among the most comprehensive of Ms. Grahn’s entries, is Chapter Three : “Gay is Very American.” Acknowledging that despite growing up in the American West of New Mexico, she and her lover Von never understood that “Indian people have and always have had Gay customs,” until she met her later lover, “Laguna Indian writer and teacher , Paula Gunn Allen,” Ms. Grahn goes on to “throw down” with arguably the most detailed and comprehensive account of Native American “Two Spirit” customs to be located within the first of the 1980s. Despite understanding from her Western upbringing that “Indian tribal harmony is known above all for its emphasis on balance and harmony,” with no “one element, force, or impulse” dominating the others (p. 51), Ms. Grahn avers that, until her relationship with Ms. Gunn Allen, she never understood that white settlers “were actually helpless in the wilderness of a strange continent, and completely dependent for two centuries on the goodwill and educational assistance of the various Indian peoples, who ensured their survival,” nor that “Indian women had genuine political and economic power in their tribes or that Indian culture teaches gentleness towards nature and often calls its male chiefs by names whose origins mean ‘mother’ or ‘motherly’.” (p. 53) She goes on to cite studies of written records over the last few centuries that refer to “Gay people in American Indian tribes,” noting that eighty-eight out of ninety-nine tribes with recorded materials refer to “Gay culture,” with twenty including “specific references to Lesbianism.” Eleven tribes denied any Gay presence; all eleven (Ms. Grahn reflects) located on the East Coast, which had the longest contact with white Christian settlers, “who severely punish people who admit to Gayness.” These studies list the offices held by Gay persons, including “cross-dressing people who take on the work, dress, and social position of the opposite sex while establishing sexual and even marital bonds with their own sex,” as well as the “names Indians have used to designate their Gay tribal members.” (p. 55) Grahn writes of the Kutenai woman of Montana, who “passed” as a man, accompanied by a woman identified as her “wife,” who “held the occupations of courier, guide, prophet, warrior, and peace mediator”; of the Zuni man who “passed” as a woman, and who was the “chief personage” on many tribal ritual occasions; of the Native “Manly-Hearted Women” who acted as peace-chiefs or war-counselors; of the “Womanly-hearted Men” who served as prophets and priests. She talks of Native American “Myths with Gay Plots,” and most poignantly, of how the “White Culture Suppressed Indian Gay Traditions,” turning their own cultural prejudices against the Natives of the American Continent, and turning the Native Tribal Peoples against their own once-beloved Sacred members.

Judy Grahn’s methodology is, as she describes, “eclectic,” (p. xii) comprising “dictionaries and history, anthropology and sociology, poetry and the occult,” as well as what she calls “common sense.” This leads to a certain “free-associative” style, seen for instance in her section “Rainbows, Storms, and Changes.” (p. 272) Attempting to come to terms with the “Gay Rainbow Thing,” Ms. Grahn starts out by alluding to the “Over the Rainbow” metaphor in The Wizard of Oz, arguably the single most important Gay cultural “event” of the twentieth century, as anyone knows who grew up in the hyper-closeted ’50s, ’60s, and ’70s, when the movie’s annual showing on network television provided a desperately rare vision into some sort of “Gay-Fabulous World” that lay just “beyond the rainbow.” Tracking down this Gay metaphor that gave birth to the emblematic Rainbow Flag, Ms. Grahn references some Native American stories that associate transformation and gender-change by walking under a rainbow; as well as the rainbow-skirt of the African/ Brazilian Goddess of Storm, Death, and Transformation Oya, and the Rainbow-Goddess Iris (said to be the “handmaiden” to Hera, in what, as with Judith and her “handmaiden” in the Old Testament, may be a “code-signal” to a Homoerotic relationship). Interesting as all these things are in relation, they do tend to add up to something less than a trans-global sociological identification with rainbows as a metaphor for Gayness.

If there is one fault, in the hindsight of it all, in Ms. Grahn’s research (and I think I understand how this happened), it is this: she regrettably takes Margaret Murray’s Witch-Cult in Western Europe at its face-value. Since Arthur Evans publishes Witchcraft and the Gay Counterculture in 1978 (and as we know, Mr. Evans was not only an important figure in the early Gay Rights Movement, but in the early Witchcraft Movement as well), Ms. Grahn (in 1984) draws upon him as a source. Through Mr. Evans (attempting the first serious study of Historic Gay Culture, especially as it relates to the “Witch-Cult in Europe”), Ms. Grahn comes across Jeffrey Burton Russell’s excellent study on the medieval Witch-Hunts, as they relate to the early Inquisition-Hunts, Witchcraft in the Middle Ages. Dutifully investigating Mr. Russell, Ms. Grahn cites many significant things of note concerning the Middle Ages Witch-Phenomenon and/ or surviving Pagan Traditions (sometimes mixed up with Medieval Witchcraft). However- as Mr. Evans accepts Margaret Murray’s theories of the “Witch-Cult” as established, it seems to Ms. Grahn that she is on solid ground in equally doing so. Nowadays, we tend to recognize Margaret Murray as discredited; so regretfully, the continuance of both Mr. Evans and Ms. Grahn (based upon Mr. Evans’ prior published assertions) upon the path of a non-existant “Witch-Cult” comes to naught.

For instance (in another example of Ms. Grahn’s style-of-working): In Chapter Four: “Fairies and Fairy Queens,” Ms. Grahn recalls a strange prohibition of her younger years, against “wearing green on Thursdays.” According to Ms. Grahn, there used to be this hard-core social “thing” that one never wore green on a Thursday- because that signified that one was “Queer.” This starts Judy Grahn to thinking, What would be the deal with wearing green on Thursdays? She tracks down green as a color identified with the Faerey-Folk in Celtic folklore; and then (through Mr. Evans and Mr. Russell) tracks down Thursday (“Thor’s Day”) as a date often given for the Assembly of Witches: from Witchcraft in the Middle Ages (quoted by Judy Grahn in Note #9, on p. 293) “The festivals most important for the development of the witch idea were the fertility rites associated with Diana or Hecate, the festivals on Thursday, which later became a favorite day for witch meetings, and the hunting celebrations on the first of January…The synods and Caesarius also bear witness to the custom of transvestism at the same New Year’s festival, where men dressed as women, a masquerade probably originating in a fertility rite of some kind.” Mr. Russell further points out (quoted by Ms. Grahn on p. 80) that the Witches of Dauphine (for instance) “constituted a sect, and they assembled at sabbats, usually on Thursdays.” Mr. Russell, following the medieval model, notes that the Witches were said to fornicate with demons at these Sabbats.

Ms. Grahn locates “green” legitimately as a color associated with the Celtic Fay-Folk; and discovers the interesting medieval fact that Witches were alleged often to meet in their Sabbats on Thursdays, putting these two facts together as a hypothesis for, Why the prohibition against wearing green on Thursdays? (Because Witches must have been identified with Faeries, as would be suggested by the fact that “Fairy” is a derogatory name for a Gay man). In the midst of this, however, Ms. Grahn cites Margaret Murray’s now-descredited theories concerning a Neolithic “Faerey Race,” that sadly undercuts her arguments a bit, as does her invocations of Joan of Arc and King William Rufus as Ceremonial Gay Sacrificial Victims.

1500s illustration of Puck dancing in a Circle

However- one line of Ms. Grahn’s contemplations intriguing to Queer Culture Pagan theorists, is this: In her section “Butches and Femmes” (p. 145), Ms. Grahn discusses the probable origins of the well-known figure of Puck. Seeking understanding as to the origin of the word “Butch,” which is Gay slang for either a very masculine woman or man, Ms. Grahn determines that it derives from the French boucher (“butcher”), as well as the French word for “goat” (bouc). This in turn relates to bucca (“buck”), a male stag, which in turn leads to the European Goat-God, Puck (from “puca,” Irish for “Elf”). One notes a series of words here, relating to either (1) a sacrificial animal of some kind (a goat, a buck deer) (2) as well as words like “boucher,” “butcher,” and “butch,” that appear to suggest an identification with the person who does the sacrificing.

Prehistoric Trois Freres “Sorcerer”

One of Judy Grahn’s assertions is that often the mythic individual at the center of a transformation or transference can be read as “Two Spirited” or “Gay” somehow. If we consider that folkloric Puck is the avenue through which this next train of thought runs: that mythic figure is one of ambiguous gender. “Puck” is more gender-variable than gender-specific, possibly played by either a woman or a man, for instance. Puck is also an introduction to the custom of wearing leather.

As Mr. Russell discusses (noted above): many medieval customs (surely derived from Pagan traditions) describe men dressing themselves in the “skins of beasts,” “transforming themselves into animals,” and touring the local countryside during periods of significance (notably the midwinter season of the Solstice). As Russell (and others) observe, the numerous church prohibitions issued against these customs not only testifies as to their existence- they also indicate how popular these customs were, and how difficult to stop. However, they basically describe Middle Ages customs of men dressing in the skins of animals- or in leather.

Leather Men, by Gay Artist Tom of Finland

Puck himself is associated with wearing leather; in various of the “Puck Plays” (A Midsummer Night’s Dream is the play which we identify with Puck most readily today, but it is actually just one of a series of plays featuring Puck, demonstrating the character’s popularity). In certain of these plays, Puck is described as wearing a “calf-skin suit”: a calf-skin suit, or- a suit of leather.

Equally, in As You Like It (Act IV, scene ii), a group of hunters are returning from a successful hunt, singing an interesting Elizabethan hunting song, the refrain of which goes like this: “What to him who killed the deer? His leathern skin and horns to wear!”

In other words: apparently as late as the latter 1500s, the Elizabethans retained a custom, a tradition, that the hunter who felled the deer- dress himself in the deer’s skin and horns, a powerful symbolic act of “transferring” the deer’s power to the hunter, as well as apparently a really ancient custom, so “primitive” as to seem primordial. Presumably, something about the wearing of leather (the “skin of a beast”) not only “recreates” the animal, but represents as well a potent Magickal (ultimately Shamanic, I expect) transference of power, from a sacrificial animal to the human doing the sacrificing. Interesting, then, as Ms. Grahn notes, that the modern Gay “Leather” scene represents a (consensual and guided by ethical codes of conduct) transference of power from the Leather Submissive to the Leather-Clad Butch “Top.”

Queen Boudicca

Ms. Grahn began by wondering about the origins of associations and words that denote Gayness somehow; one of the words that she puzzles over is the the term “Butch.” Another is the word sometimes used in derogatory fashion against very masculine (“butch”) women: “Bulldyke,” or as Ms. Grahn asserts, a closely-related term “Bulldagger.” Why these two seemingly strange combinations of items, Ms. Grahn ponders- “bulls and dykes,” or “bulls and daggers.” Meeting some British “Dykes” once, Ms. Grahn noticed that they seemed to “blur” their “Ls” when they spoke: for instance, pronouncing “Bulldyke” as if it were “Boodyke.” This causes the British Celtic Queen Boudicca to register (Boudicca being famous for leading a Celtic rebellion against the Romans). Researching the “Queen of the Horse People” in Chapter Six, “Butches, Bulldags, and the Queen of Bulldikery,” Grahn discovers that Celtic women enjoyed very high esteem in Celtic society, and that a certain freedom of sexuality was ascribed to them by Roman writers. Conceiving now that Boudicca may be considered some form of “Bulldyke,” Grahn wonders if the Queen’s name might have been a title rather than a proper name: “bulldike and bulldagger may mean bull-slayer-priestess,” performing the ritual killing of the animal (also through the Magick of transference, a God to the Pagan tribe) “on the sacred altar-embankment. or dyke.” (p. 139)

Today’s Reigning Supreme “Drag Queen” RuPaul

Ms. Grahn points out that Gay people have a tendency to present themselves “ceremoniously,” a habit notably seen during the “Great Gay Holiday” of Halloween, when (even more so than Straight people) Gay folks will go to great lengths to “transform” themselves into expressions of “Gay Archetype”: the Ceremonial Butch “Dyke” or Lesbian; the Leather-Clad Butch Male Top; or the Cross-Dressing “Drag Queen.” Curious then as to how the word “drag” came to denote someone cross-dressing (usually in a flamboyant, “ceremonial” fashion), Grahn discovers (in “Impersonating A God-On-Earth Is Just Another Form Of Drag,” p. 95) that “drag” is antique slang for a cart or wagon.

Visiting Jeffrey Burton Russell again, Grahn reminds us of his assertion in Witchcraft in the Middle Ages, that “the chief pagan festival that continued to exercise the attention of the authorities was the beast masquerade at New Year’s, with its accompanying belief in shapeshifting…The most common accusation is that people went about on New Year’s Day dressed as stags or calves, though an interesting variant is ‘in a cart.’ Other kinds of disguises are suggested [by condemnations describing] wearing skins or disguising oneself as a woman.”

Humorous Puck Fair photo

In other words: Pagan customs, held over into the Middle Ages despite the strenuous objections of churchmen, detailing ritual processions to mark the New Year, characterized by men dressed in suits of leather or the hides of animals (thereby impersonating an animal), sometimes carrying about a “mock God” (a goat perhaps, or perhaps a “Drag Queen”) in a cart or a “drag”: often accompanied by cross-dressed males. (Other folklorists and historians attest to the prevalence of transvestite-men in these ritual processions; Carlo Ginzburg is finally of the opinion that the whole purpose of these ceremonies is to imitate the unruly and non-gendered Spirits of the Otherworld, in a metaphoric acting out of what he calls “the ecstatic journey of the living into the realm of the dead.”)

All of which comes together in full-circle fashion, when one considers the  “Puck Fairs” of Ireland. In surely a tamed-down continuation of an original Pagan ritual, a goat (who is also the Goat-God Puck) is crowned “King,” and feasted and feted (in the manner of the “mock kings” of the New Year’s Day celebrations), even being carried about in a ceremonial cart (“drag”). I think it is pretty obvious that back-in-the-Pagan-day, the Puck-Goat (after being saluted, honored, and displayed) would have been killed, cooked, and consumed as dinner by the revelers who were so recently treating the poor beast as a God and King. It seems more the case, in 21st century “Puck Fairs,” to treat the goat as a sort of community pet; but you just kind of suspect, that the original Celts, however fond they may have been of the goat, saw him more as a stew-ingredient than a bit of delightful kitsch.

Irish Puck Fair

To return to Judy Grahn’s hypotheses regarding a ceremonial function for Gay people in the tribal, Shamanic, Pagan European past: Let us imagine a tribe of Pagans, assembling for a ritual feast. Here is the “Puck”; specifically, a goat, but deified through mythology into a Supernatural Being called Puck. The poor Puck-Goat is destined to serve as supper to these fasting Pagans. But first, the people transport the Puck-Goat in a cart, praising and extolling their sacrifice as a God-King. Men dressed in the hides of beasts (symbolizing the transference of Magickal Power from the sacrificial animal to the human race) run alongside the cart, as do men-dressed-as-women (symbolizing the Spirit-World, or World-Beyond-Gender). Perhaps these “Men-Women” even jump into the cart with the Puck-Goat, riding now “in the drag.” Here the people approach the Sacred Site, the earthen Sacrificial Altar-Dyke. Here stand the two “Two Spirits” who will be responsible for dispatching the God-Goat to the World of Spirits: the Ceremonial Lesbian, or “Bulldyke,” and the Leather-Clad “Butch.”

Discovering and reading Judy Grahn was a huge event for me in the mid-80s, as I had never encountered a case for universal “Gay Culture” before. It has been a pleasure reviewing her work again; my thanks to the Pat Parker/ Vito Russo Library at the LGBT Community Center of NYC, for maintaining this book among its collection.

Dec 042012
 

Having “Wound Up” their Charm: “Hail Macbeth! Thane of Glamis and Cawdor! That shalt be King hereafter!”

In their book The Rede of the Wiccae: Adriana Porter, Gwen Thompson, and the Birth of a Tradition of Witchcraft (Olympian Press, 2005), Robert Mathiesen and Theitic discuss the “regular-meter” structure of traditional “Lore-Text”: “the metrical stresses fall on only the first, third, fifth, and seventh syllables, not on the second, fourth, and sixth. We write this pattern as ['-'-'-'].” (p. 59) What Mathiesen and Theitic recognize as “regular meter,” a Shakespearean will call “iambic meter”; meaning a line of verse, composed in alternating “STRESSED/ unstressed” syllables: “ONCE more UN-to THE breach, DEAR friends, ONCE more!” being the first line from the “Once more” speech from Henry V (Act I, scene iii), taught in Shakespeare Schools as an example of perfect “iambic pentameter.”

Shakespeare tends to write in “iambic pentameter,” meaning five groups of “iambs” (STRESSED/ unstressed syllables), resulting in a line of ten “beats” altogether. As Mathiesen and Theitic point out (p. 62), “In the English-speaking world, rhyming couplets in regular meter- as we have termed it- are traditional for literary representations of spells, as in Shakespeare’s Macbeth.” Mathiesen and Theitic go on to examine the “regular meter” structure (the “iambic” structure) of the “Eye of Newt and Toe of Frog” speech, from the Cauldron Scene (Act IV, scene i), as well as various other examples of Witch “Lore” such as Isobel Gowdie’s “Horse and Hattock” Charm, and an 1850s Healing Spell, before going to to consider the “regular meter” structure of some of the more antique of the rhyming couplets found in The Rede.

However much a Shakespearean will recognize “iambic pentameter” (a line of ten beats, of “STRESSED/ unstressed” syllables) as the Bard’s accustomed speech-pattern: Mathiesen and Theitic point out that “Witch Spells” tend to be rendered in sequences of seven; achieved by the tricky and witchy habit of ending each line on a “broken” iamb. Such an example we find in the “Weird Sisters Charm” of Macbeth (Act I, scene iii):

Macbeth’s Witches, “Winding Up” a Charm in their Cavern

“THE weird SIS-ters, HAND in HAND” [the first line of the Charm, consisting of seven syllables, in alternating "STRESSED/ unstressed" pattern, ending with a "broken"or an unfinished iamb]; “POST-ers OF the SEA and LAND” [ditto, as Mathiesen and Theitic say]; “THUS do GO, a-BOUT, a-BOUT” [note the "witchy trickiness" in emphasizing "About, About" at the end, which is a phrase often found in English Witch-Incantation]; “THRICE to THINE, and THRICE to MINE” [again, seven syllables of iambic "regular meter"]; “AND thrice A-gain, TO make UP NINE!!” [The last line requires eight syllables, leading to something interesting-]

The “Weird Sisters Charm” of Macbeth (Act I, scene iii) consists of four lines, of seven syllables each, before concluding in an eight-syllable line, with the Magickal Number of “Nine.” If you do the math: 4×7=28; 28+8=36; 3+6=9.

If you work your way through the text of the Charm: you kind of can’t help making your way through some sort of Magickal Labyrinth, towards some sort of Mystical Conclusion. At this point: “Peace, the Charm’s Wound Up.”

As Mathiesen and Theitic go on to note, the Witches resume this pattern of speech during the famous Cauldron Scene of [Act IV, scene i]; all of which suggests a habit of Witches deliberately speaking “Witchcraft” in a very “BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM boom BOOM” way: which becomes somewhat hypnotic in a sense; a little meditative; a bit reflective; a little suggestive of rhythmic clapping or even the steady beating of a drum.

Following the example of the “Weird Sisters’ Charm,” at a minimum,  you may wish to experiment with writing out “regular metered” Charms, each line of seven syllables, ideally ending with a rhyming couplet [two lines, whose two ending-words rhyme: "A drum! A drum! Macbeth doth come!" is actually a rhyming couplet.] You may wish to experiment with “the Charm” outright (I have some observations for you, if you do, as Part 3). At another minimum: consider the story told in “the Charm.”

The Weird Sisters (who are also “Posters of the Sea and Land,” meaning that they can travel with great velocity- almost like riding Magickal horses- over both sea and land; basically, they can fly) join “hand in hand,” forming a Circle. Now they “thus” go “about, about”: they begin to spin in a Circle. Following the instructions of the text, they go first “one way” three times; then they go “another way” three times; then they conclude “back this way,” three times.

Why do they do this? “Peace. The Charm’s wound up.”

They have “wound up a Charm.”

Now consider what Gerald Gardner says in Witchcraft Today (Magickal Childe Publishing, p. 20): “Witches are taught and believe that the power resides within their bodies which they can release in various ways, the simplest being dancing round in a circle, singing or shouting, to induce a frenzy.”

Nov 282012
 

Question: How do we remember what a “red sky at night” means to sailors? The same way that we remember what a “red sky at morning” means: through Lore-Text that tells us, “Red Sky at Night; Sailors’ Delight. Red Sky at Morning; Sailers, take Warning.” As Robert Mathiesen and Theitic point out in their book, The Rede of the Wiccae: Adriana Porter, Gwen Thompson, and the Birth of a Tradition of Witchcraft (p. 58), important information was often preserved and relayed in oral folk-culture through “Lore-Text”: “a brief text that conveys a piece of traditional knowledge or lore in a fixed form. Lore-texts include proverbs, weather rhymes, old sayings whether or not they are in rhyme, and so forth. A lore-text has a relatively fixed form of words in which it is handed down from one generation to the next. Although a lore-text can change with time, the change is from one fixed text to another.” As another example of lore-text, Prof. Kittredge provides (in Witchcraft in Old and New England) many examples of the folk-proverb, that “Vervain and Dill hinder Witches of their Will,” testifying to the purifying, protective aspects of the two herbs.

Antique oral-culture lore-text becomes significant to Mathiesen and Theitic in their examination of The Wiccan Rede, credited to Lady Gwen Thompson. Lady Gwen (of North Haven, Connecticut) is one of those early Witches on the scene, responsible for establishing the Craft in the United States. As she had been initiating people into what she described as a Hereditary-Family-Tradition of Celtic Witchcraft since the late ’60s, and was indeed the first High Priestess to initiate Eddie Buczynski into a Witch-Tradition, Lady Gwen is also covered (rather thoroughly) in Michael Lloyd’s Bull of Heaven: the Mythic Life of Eddie Buczynski and the Rise of the New York Pagan (according to Michael, Eddie used material from Lady Gwen’s Book of Shadows to create his own Welsh Tradition of Witchcraft).

Be that as it may- it is specifically the collection of rhyming couplets known as “the Wiccan Rede” that interest Mathiesen and Theitic (Michael also covers the Rede in Bull of Heaven, Chapter 18, “Black and White and Rede All Over”). Examining this series preserving bits of folk-wisdom (“Soft of eye an light of touch- speak little, listen much,” is one such example, which interestingly paraphrases Polonius’ advice in Hamlet, Act I, scene iii, line 68: “Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice”), Mathiesen and Theitic conclude that the majority of the couplets contained in the Rede give evidence of indeed being oral-culture Lore-Text (presumably collected from the late 19th century and early 20th, by Lady Gwen’s grandmother Adriana Porter, apparently something of a folklore hobbyist). None of these (alas) give evidence of a Witchcraft sensibility, much less a “Wiccan” one. The few that do- like the famous “Bide the Wiccan laws ye must, in perfect love an perfect trust,” and “Eight words the Wiccan Rede fulfill- an it harm none, do what you will”- Mathiesen and Theitic conclude must have been constructed by another, later individual (most likely Lady Gwen), inspired by her grandmother’s collection of antique couplets to create her own “Wiccanate” ones.

My point is less to blow apart cherished Wiccan mythologies, than to point out that Robert Mathiesen and Theitic introduce the concept of “Lore-Text” into the proceedings: Lore-Text, an oral-culture means of preserving wisdom and useful advice, often in a rhyming manner, which facilitates easy-memory. Which brings us (as things will) to the most famous depiction of Witches in the Western World: William Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Performed in 1605 and published in 1623, the Tragedy unquestionably dates to the earliest 17th century. Its Witches are undeniably compelling, as well as notoriously controversial (of course, one can make the argument that this applies to Witches in the early 17th century as a whole, not just to Mr. Shakespeare’s). Virtually every thing that the Witches do onstage during the show, one can go over and over and over, reading meaning and postulating theory: for the now, I want to draw attention to the odd little ceremony that the Witches enact in Act I, scene iii (immediately before Macbeth’s entrance, signaled by the line, “A drum! A drum! Macbeth doth come!”). I call the Witches’ text here, “the Weird Sisters Charm,” and want to propose that it serves as a Lore-Text: a Lore-Text that preserves the memory and information of a Energy-Raising Ceremony.

Coming Next: “Posters of the Sea and Land.”