EASTERN LINKS WITH EUROPEAN WITCHCRAFT
It has not been generally realised by writers on witchcraft, that some very interesting links exist between European witchcraft and the Arabic and Near Eastern countries. However, some information about this has been published by Idris Shah Sayid, in his remarkable book The Sufis (W. H. Allen, London, 1964). Further details have appeared in A History of Secret Societies by Arkon Daraul (Tandem Books, London, 1965 and Citadel Press, New York, 1962).
We may never know the full story of what communications there were between the secret mystics of the East and those of the West. However, two points of contact certainly did exist in medieval times. One was the Moorish kingdom in Spain, which lasted from A.D. 711 until 1492. The scholarship of the Moorish doctors was far in advance of that of most of Europe. They gave us the Arabic number signs which we still use today, a great advance upon the clumsy Roman numerals; and many terms in astronomy and chemistry, such as ‘azimuth’, ‘alcohol’ and so on, are derived from Arabic. So are the astrological terms ‘zenith’ and ‘nadir’.
It was natural that men of such comparatively advanced scientific learning should be accused of sorcery. However, the Moors also had a considerable interest in occult philosophy, alchemy, astrology, and magic generally. The city of Toledo in Spain became notorious all over Europe as a place where the magic arts were studied; so much so that the word ‘Toledo’ was used as a cryptic password among occultists. Its apparently casual mention in conversation was a clue that the speaker was interested in occult matters, and sought fellow students.
Saragossa and Salamanca also had a reputation for magical studies and practices. The name of the wizard Michael Scot was associated with Salamanca; and while many of the stories told about him are legendary, nevertheless he seems really to have existed. To have studied among the Moors was a necessary preliminary to achieving mastery of the occult arts, according to many old tales. Christian Rosenkreutz, the supposed founder of the Rosicrucians, was said to have journeyed to Fez in Morocco, and there to have acquired some of his learning.
The other point of contact between East and West was the Order of the Knights Templars. One of the reasons why this very important and powerful order of knighthood fell out of favour with the Church, and was suppressed, was that they were getting altogether too friendly with the Saracens instead of slaughtering them as became good Christian men.
The contrast of character between the noble and chivalrous Saladin, the Saracen leader, and the venal, squabbling chiefs of the Crusaders, had not been without its impression upon thinking people; all the more so as the Crusades, in spite of fierce fighting and bloodshed, had most undeniably failed.
The Knights Templars were accused of heresy, and of worshipping a deity called Baphomet, who bore a strong resemblance to the god of the witches. (See BAPHOMET.) Idris Shah Sayid has suggested that his name is derived from the Arabic Abufihamat, meaning ‘Father of Understanding’.
The Arabic words for ‘wisdom’ and for ‘black’ closely resemble each other; hence to the Arabic mystics ‘black’ became a synonym for ‘wisdom’. This is based upon the Arabic Qabalah, which, like the Hebrew Qabalah, derives occult meanings from the numerical values of the letters of words.
The most famous order of Arabic mystics is that of the Sufis. This order still exists today, and claims to date back to before the time of Mohammad and the foundation of Islam, although its members respect Islam in their practices. The late Gerald Gardner, who contributed so much to the present-day rebirth of witchcraft, was also a member of a Sufi order, and had travelled extensively in the East.
The suggestion had been made that the triumph of Islam, and the rapid spread of the Mohammedan creed, caused a number of people in the affected Near Eastern countries, who adhered to older faiths, to become somewhat insecure, and to leave their native lands and travel Westward. It also caused some of the devotees of older faiths to go underground, even as the spread of Christianity had done, and to form secret societies and cults. Thus an Eastern version of witchcraft sprang up; and eventually there was a certain infiltration, and exchange of ideas, between the Wise Ones of the East and those of the West.
Hugh Ross Williamson based his fascinating historical novel, The Silver Bowl, first published by Michael Joseph (London) in 1948, upon the idea that there was an Eastern as well as a European version of the Craft of the Wise, and that some communication had taken place between the two.
Some writers have gone so far as to suggest that the medieval version of witchcraft in Europe, with its organisation of Sabbats, covens of thirteen and so on, was actually a Saracenic import, grafted on to the old moon-magic cult of Diana and Herodias. How much truth there is in this it is hard to say; because it is the old question of finding resemblances between two things, and then asking, “Is this evidence that the one was derived from the other, or is it evidence that both had a common origin in the distant past?” The writer inclines to the latter view, upon the present state of our knowledge.
However, it certainly does seem possible that the European witch cult, languishing under the increasing power and influence of Christianity, received a transfusion of new life and new ideas from the East. The possibility of such communication, as we have seen, was there. Also, as Gerald Gardner mentioned in Witchcraft Today (Riders, London, 1954), the witches have a tradition among themselves that their cult came from the East.
Idris Shah tells us of the Aniza Bedouin, whose great Sufi teacher was Abu el-Atahiyya (A.D. 748—circa 828). His circle of disciples were called The Wise Ones; and they commemorated him by the symbol of a torch between the horns of a goat. The tribal name Aniza means ‘goat’.
After the death of Abu el-Atahiyya a group of his followers migrated to Spain, which was then under the rule of the Moors. The Maskhara Dervishes, called ‘The Revellers’, are connected with this teacher and with the Aniza tribe.
However, this symbol of a horned head with a torch between the horns is much, much older than the time of Abu el-Atahiyya. It can in fact be traced back to Ancient India. (See ANTIQUITY OF WITCHCRAFT.) It also bears some resemblance to the horned headdresses of Ancient Egyptian gods and goddesses. These often take the form of two horns with a shining disc between them, which the torch or candle is a substitute for. The god Amoun, the god of mystery and the infinite, was represented as a ram, with an elaborate horned head-dress. At Mendes an actual sacred ram was adored with strange rites, described by Herodotus. Amoun was the primeval god of the Egyptians. He was believed to be able to take any form that he wished; all other deities were his various forms. Therefore his names were many; but his real name was secret. He was especially associated with all the gods of fertility, because he was Life, the Life Force itself.
The representations of Amoun as Harsaphes, the ram-headed god of the Faiyum district, are particularly beautiful and interesting, in this respect. They show a man with a ram’s head (or mask) having a disc between the horns, probably representing the sun, and also the Atef Crown of Osiris; one of the most splendid and impressive versions of the Horned God, an example of which can be seen in the British Museum.
It seems probable that the Aniza Bedouin were named after one of the ancient North African representations of the Horned God; and that Abu el-Atahiyya’s followers, the Wise Ones, adopted this symbol of a horned head with a light between the horns, because it not only commemorated their master and teacher, but also had an older and deeper meaning for them.
The Maskhara Dervishes, who, as we have seen, are connected with this great Sufi teacher, have given us the two words, ‘masquerade’ and ‘mascara’. They conducted wild dances dressed in animal masks; and they also used a cosmetic to blacken their faces in the course of some of their rituals. Hence the ‘mascara’ that women use today for eye-paint. The purpose of this may have been the ritual connection between ‘black’ and ‘wisdom’, noted above.
In Britain, there are the Morris Dancers, today as British as roast beef, but their name means the ‘Moorish dancers’, because they used to black their faces when they danced, so that they should not be recognised. Their dancing is believed to bring luck by its performance; and it is certainly a splendid and exciting thing to see, and very much alive today. Some historians think that the Morris Dance was brought to Britain from Spain, probably by John of Gaunt and his followers in the time of Edward III. John of Gaunt, the brother of the Black Prince, spent much time in Spain, and had some hopes of becoming King of Castile.
Arkon Daraul, in his book on Secret Societies, previously referred to, tells of a very curious secret cult, of a mystical and magical nature, called ‘The Two-Horned Ones’ or Dhulqarneni. This arose in Morocco, and crossed into Spain as had the Aniza cult. The Moslem authorities frowned upon it, and tried to put it down; but nevertheless it became fairly widespread.
Its devotees believed that they could raise magical power by dancing in a circle. They had some association with moon worship; and they said the Moslem prayers backwards and invoked El Aswad, the ‘Black Man’, to help them. Both men and women were admitted to this cult, and they were marked at their initiation with a small wound from a ritual knife, called Adh-dhane, the ‘blood-letter’. This word resembles the witches’ Athame.
They met by night at the cross-roads; and their meetings were called the Zabbat, meaning ‘the Forceful or Powerful One’. The circle of initiates was called the Kafan, which is Arabic for winding-sheet, because each member wore nothing but a plain white robe over his naked body. Thus attired, they would have looked like a company of ghosts, and probably scared off any intruder. The witches adopted frightening disguises for this purpose also.
The Dhulqarneni carried a forked staff, the symbol of horns, the sign of power. Early representations of witches show them riding upon forked staffs. The name ‘Sabbat’ for witch-meetings of special importance has never been satisfactorily explained; but ‘coven’ is a word which is connected with the Latin conventus, and meant a cult-group of thirteen people. (See COVEN.)
However, the circle of the Dhulqarneni was a circle of twelve people with a leader; and so are the circles of the Sufis at the present day.
The leader of the circle of the Horned Ones was called Rabbana, ‘Lord’. He was also called the ‘Black Man’ or the ‘blacksmith’. Blacksmiths have always been supposed to have magical powers; and the old ballad of “The Coal-Black Smith” is regarded as a witches’ song. It is also called “The Two Magicians”, and tells how a blacksmith and a witch had a magical contest, which ended with them becoming lovers. Robin or Robinet is a name which was sometimes given to the ‘Devil’ of a witches’ coven, and it bears a resemblance to Rabbana. It is also an old word for phallus. The terms the ‘Black Man’ or the ‘Man in Black’ were also used of a male coven-leader.
The cult of the Horned Ones continued among the Berber people of North Africa up to comparatively recent times, and may still exist. There are stories of followers of this cult dancing round lighted bonfires, carrying a staff which they call ‘the goat’. They have a secret Grand Master called Dhulqarnen, the ‘Two-Horned Lord’, who is reincarnated upon earth every 200 years.
It is remarkable from our point of view that this cult should flourish among the Berbers; because the Berbers are racially akin to the small, dark, long-headed people who inhabited Britain in the Neolithic period, and who migrated from North Africa. The people of pre-dynastic Egypt are also racially related to them.
The Berbers are regarded in North Africa as a race of sorcerers, whose outward submission to Islam covers the hidden practice of strange and heretical creeds. They hold women in great esteem, as repositories of ancestral wisdom and magic. This is in marked contrast to the usual Arabic attitude of contempt for women, as the inferior sex. Many strange travellers’ tales of Berber magic have come out of North Africa. They are said to have a secret language, in which, and only in which, magical matters can rightly be discussed.
The relationship between such Eastern seekers of wisdom as the Sufis, and the European witches, or devotees of wise-craft, is a subject of which we know all too little. Future study may, we hope, reveal more.
One belief the Sufis and the witches have in common is that of baraka, meaning ‘blessing’ or ‘power’. This is not a mere metaphysical abstraction, but something that can be actually raised and transmitted. The Sufi utterance, “Baraka bashad”, “May the blessing be”, is very similar to the greeting of the witches, “Blessed be”. It also resembles the time-honoured Word of Power, ‘Abracadabra’, meaning Ha Brachab Dabarah, ‘Speak the blessing’. The essential meaning of these concepts is practically the same, and can be paralleled by the mana of the Kahunas of Hawaii.
The Jewel in the Lotus, by Allen Edwardes (Tandem Books, London, 1965), gives an extraordinary insight into the sexuality of the East, which is inextricably bound up with Eastern religion. It describes some of the Eastern holy men, and the way in which sexual intercourse with them was regarded as a privilege conferring sanctity. This is reminiscent of the way in which medieval witches are said to have regarded their Devil, the ‘Man in Black’, when he presided over the coven wearing his ritual grand array, the horned mask, animal skins, etc.
It is implied in many of the accounts of old-time witchcraft that the Devil of the coven had a kind of droit de seigneur over the young girls and women who joined, which they probably found agreeable rather than otherwise. We find, in the very detailed accounts of the confessions of witches, preserved by Pierre de Lancre (Tableau de l’Inconstance des Mauvais Anges, Paris, 1613), the allegation that the Devil “oste la virginité des filles” at the time when he joined male and female witches in marriage.
Some holy men of the East regarded it as a sacred duty to do the same thing, namely to deflower virgins. Some Western critics have jeered at Eastern religions for this reason, regarding them as a mere hypocritical cloak for the activities of shameless libertines. In doing so, they have completely failed to understand the ideas and emotions of Eastern people, who regarded sex as a most sacred manifestation of the Life Force, and therefore of the Creative Divinity behind it. There was nothing hypocritical, or to them immoral, in the phallic and sexual rites of Eastern people; rites which, in fact, were practised all over the world in bygone days.
This regard for sexual contact with the persons of holy men, as conferring sanctity and blessing, throws a new light upon the many stories of the Osculum infame, or so-called ‘obscene kiss’, supposed to have been conferred upon the Devil of the coven by his followers on ritual occasions.
The Jewel in the Lotus tells us that in many areas the wandering holy man, the Dervish or Sufi, was greeted by devotees with an extraordinary token of respect. This consisted of kissing him upon the lips, then lifting his robe and kissing him successively upon the navel, the penis, the testicles, and the buttocks.
This is the exact way in which Jeanette d’Abadie, a young witch of the Basses-Pyrenees, confessed to greeting the Devil in 1609; “que le Diable luy faiscoit baiser son visage, puis le nombril, puis le membre viril, puis son derrière”, says Pierre de Lancre (op. cit). (“The Devil made her kiss his face, then the navel, then the virile member, then his backside”.) This charge of ‘obscene homage’ was often made against witches.
In 1597 Marion Grant of the Aberdeen witches was accused of rendering homage to the Devil; who, it was said, “causit thee kiss him in divers parts, and worship him on thy knees as thy lord”. And earlier, in 1303, no less a person than a Bishop of Coventry was sent to Rome to face a similar accusation, the Devil in this case having been in the shape of a “sheep” (probably a ram is meant, or a man wearing a ram’s head mask). The Bishop managed to clear himself of the charge.
This latter case, according to Margaret Murray, is the earliest recorded one in Britain, of this kind of worship of the Horned God or his representative. It may therefore give some indication, if the theory of Eastern influence is correct, of at what period this influence began to show itself upon the Old Religion in Britain.
The Knights Templars also were accused of having a ritual kiss of this kind, demanded by the initiating Master from the men who were newly admitted to the order. This may be another indication of their absorption of Eastern religious ideas and customs, probably from the Sufis. “According to the articles of accusation, one of the ceremonies of initiation required the novice to kiss the receiver on the mouth, on the anus, or the end of the spine, on the navel, and on the virga virilis.” (Two Essays on the Worship of Priapus, Richard Payne Knight and Thomas Wright, London, 1865.)
The exact similarity of this very extraordinary ritual act, in the case of the Knights Templars, the witches and the devotees of certain Sufi holy men, seems beyond coincidence. It is a clue to the real meaning of the notorious Osculum infame, and to the strange and secret links between the occult circles of the East and those of Europe in past centuries.
ELEMENTS, SPIRITS OF THE
Occultists of olden time regarded the spirits of Nature as being divided into four groups, according to the Four Elements of Life. The spirits of earth were called gnomes; those of water were called undines; the unseen inhabitants of air were named sylphs; and the spirits of fire were known as salamanders.
These names are traditional; however, ‘gnome’ seems to be derived from the Greek gnoma, meaning ‘knowledge’. So the gnomes are ‘the knowing ones’. ‘Undine’ is from the Latin unda, a wave; they are ‘the creatures of the waves’, the nymphs of the waters. ‘Sylph’ is from the Greek silphe, a butterfly; they are depicted as beautiful, delicate forms with butterfly wings.
The word ‘salamander’ is less certain in origin; but it may be connected with the Greek word salambe, a fireplace. The salamander was visualised as being like a lizard or small dragon; and there is a kind of lizard called by naturalists a salamander, perhaps after this old belief. However, the salamander of the old occultists was a spirit which dwelt in fire. The old Christmas game of ‘Snapdragon’, played by snatching raisins from a dish of burning brandy, may take its name from this old idea of the fire-elemental as a dragonlike creature, or ‘fire-drake’.
Benvenuto Cellini, in his memoirs (The Life of Benvenuto Cellini, Written by Himself) claimed to have seen one when he was a little boy. (He lived between 1500 and 1571.) It was a very cold day, he tells us, and a big fire of oak logs was burning in the room. His father was sitting by the fire, amusing himself by playing a viol and singing. “Happening to look into the fire, he espied in the middle of the most burning flames a little creature like a lizard, which was sporting in the core of the intensest coals.” Benvenuto’s father promptly called him and his sister to see this strange sight, and gave young Benvenuto a good box on the ear to make him remember it, on account of the great rarity of such a thing being seen. (Though Cellini grew up to have even stranger occult experiences, if we are to believe all the stories he tells in his colourful memoirs.)
Friendly elementals are believed by many occultists and witches to assist them in their magical work. The sign of the pentagram or five-pointed star, is potent to control elementals. It should have one point above, when used for this purpose; because then it represents Spirit ruling over the kingdoms of the Elements.
Some magical practitioners regard the Four Elements as being literally kingdoms. They give the names of the elemental kings as: Paralda, the King of the Sylphs; Niksa, the King of the Undines; Djin, the King of the Salamanders; and Ghob, the King of the Gnomes. (The latter may be the origin of the word ‘goblins’ for small, tricksy spirits.) (See FAMILIARS.)
ESBAT
The Esbat is the monthly meeting of a witches’ coven. It takes place at the time of full moon.
The full moon is not only the flood-tide of psychic power. In the olden days, before the introduction of street lighting and paved roads, it was the most practicable time for people to travel about the countryside.
Those who made their way to witches’ meetings would wear a black cloak with a hood, and this has become a traditional part of a witch’s attire. Its original purpose was camouflage. A person dressed like this can quickly merge into the shadows on a moonlit night. Also, if they do happen to be seen, one cloaked and hooded figure looks very much like another. It is difficult even to tell if it is a man or a woman; let alone recognise someone, perhaps as a fellow villager.
To a witch today, the traditional black cloak and hood symbolise night and secrecy. This attire has no particular connection with black magic, except in the imaginations of thriller writers.
The Esbat is a smaller and less solemn occasion than the Sabbat. For the latter, several covens might foregather but the Esbat is a local affair. It may be held for some particular coven business, or simply for fun and enjoyment. The word ‘Esbat’ comes from the Old French s’esbattre, meaning to frolic and amuse oneself.
ESBAT. The Witches’ Frolic, from an engraving by the nineteenth-century artist, George Cruikshank.
Because there are thirteen lunar months in a year, there are generally thirteen full-moon Esbats. This is the probable origin of the magic of the number thirteen.
Some old writers on witchcraft had the idea that the Esbat was held on a particular day of the week. This, however, is not so; its date is dependent upon the moon.
The rites that take place vary somewhat, from one coven to another. Basically, however, they consist of dancing, of invoking the Old Gods, and of partaking of wine and probably a small feast as well, in the gods’ honour.
The Great Old Ones, the souls of great witches who have passed beyond this earth, are also remembered. Thanks are given for past favours, and prayers may be said for something that is needed, or some particular magic worked for it. News is exchanged; magical objects consecrated; sometimes, some divination is performed for the future. Full moon is a particularly good time for the latter, or for the exercise of any kind of psychic power.
Sometimes a man and a woman who wish to be partners in magic, are joined together ceremonially by the leader of the coven. They are then regarded by the rest of the coven as being married according to the laws of the Craft. This ceremony, like that of initiation, may take place at either an Esbat or a Sabbat. Contrary to popular belief, witches are not sexually promiscuous people. In fact, if the full truth were known, they are probably less so than some of those who write lurid articles denouncing them.
Another thing which may happen at an Esbat is the presentation of a baby to the Old Gods. This is done by its parents, when the latter are members of the coven. It is the witch equivalent of baptism.
This is the truth behind the horrid old stories of babies being offered to the Devil. In the old days, it would have been very dangerous for parents to fail to get their child baptised. When church-going was compulsory by law, as it was in times past, those who failed to observe the ordinances of the Church immediately put themselves under suspicion. So, of course, the witch parents would have to present the child ultimately for Christian baptism; but they dedicated it to the Old Gods first.
This compulsory baptism into the Christian Church was sometimes bitterly resented; and this fact is the explanation of another old story, namely that when people were initiated as witches, they denied their Christian baptism. If they came from witch families, and knew that their parents had been forced to have them baptised, they quite probably did make a formal denial of this kind, simply for their own satisfaction.
At the Esbat also, ideas can be exchanged and instruction in witchcraft given. Old magical legends are recited, and songs are sung. There are some old ballads that are traditionally associated with witchcraft. “Greensleeves” is one of them. The lady dressed in “the fairies’ fatal green” is the goddess herself. Another song is “Hares on the Mountain”; the hare is traditionally associated with the moon and with witches. The old ballad of “The Coal-Black Smith” is generally regarded as a witches’ song also.
In fact, the music of the witches’ Esbats and Sabbats was mainly the popular tunes of the day. In the accounts of Scottish witchcraft, there is mention of a number of lively and bawdy old ballads being sung and danced to, much to the displeasure of the Kirk; and elsewhere it was probably much the same. The instruments played were the old pipe and tabor, the bagpipes in Scotland, the fiddle, the tambourine and the recorder.
Today the recorder has all too often been exchanged for the tape-recorder. when witch-meetings are held indoors; although the battery-operated portable tape-recorders and record players have been quite a boon to modern witches, in providing music for their meetings, indoors or out.
EVIL EYE
The idea of the Evil Eye is one of the world’s most time-honoured and widespread magical beliefs.
Old John Aubrey, in his Miscellanies (London, 1696), summed it up very briefly and to the point: “The glances of envy and malice do shoot also subtilly; the eye of the malicious person does really infect and make sick the spirit of the other.”
To be able to put the Evil Eye upon a person is one of the main powers attributed to black witchcraft. People capable of this were called ‘eye-biting witches’. Their victims, who pined away or suffered misfortune by reason of this deadly glance, were said to be ‘overlooked’, ‘fascinated’, ‘eye-blighted’; and one curious English dialect term calls them ‘owl-blasted’, perhaps from the idea of the owl’s staring eyes.
The effects of the Evil Eye might be felt in two ways: either by physical or nervous illness or by a run of bad luck and unfortunate events. The belief in the possibility of this is still almost as lively as it was in the Middle Ages. We often hear people saying of someone that they “put the mockers on it”; meaning that their influence ruined something—or somebody. This is really only another way of saying ‘They put the Evil Eye on it’.
When certain ‘labour rackets’ were being investigated in New York in 1957, the investigating committee found that a man reputed to possess the Evil Eye had actually been hired by an employer to intimidate his staff. The man would come in once or twice a week, and stare fixedly at the men, in order to keep them in fear; and apparently he succeeded in doing so.
This story, fantastic as it sounds, proves one thing; namely, that human nature and the human mind are basically the same beneath the sky-scrapers of New York in modern times, as they were centuries ago, in narrow medieval streets or remote villages.
A few years ago in Britain, a society lady whose tennis and garden parties were persistently spoiled by rain, told a gossip columnist: “I am going to get myself a string of blue beads. Someone is putting the Evil Eye on me.”
Bright blue beads as a preventative of the Evil Eye are popular in the Near East. They may be of glass or pottery; it is the brightness and clarity of the colour that matters, not the expensiveness or otherwise of the necklace.
Amulets against the Evil Eye are of very many kinds, and are often attractive and artistic in their form. The Hand of Fatima, for instance, is frequently made of silver-gilt, jewelled with semi-precious stones. This representation of a hand is named in this way today out of compliment to Fatima, the daughter of the Prophet Mohammed; but the figure of a hand as symbolic warder-off of evil is very old indeed. In fact, the prints of hands found on the painted walls of Stone Age caves may have had this significance.
EVIL EYE. Witch amulets against the Evil Eye: mano in fica and mano cornuta
This amulet derives from man’s instinctive gesture of putting up his hand before his face, to ward off the baleful glance of the Evil Eye. Bronze figures of hands, called the mano pantea, stood in Roman houses in ancient days, for the same purpose. They were encrusted with many other amuletic figures, such as serpents, lizards, acorns, pine-cones, horns and so on. The position of the fingers on these pre-Christian amulets is the same as that used today for blessing, namely with the thumb and first two fingers upright, and the other two fingers closed.
Two other finger gestures against the Evil Eye are the mano cornuta, or ‘making horns’, and the mano in fica or ‘the fig’. These are very popular in Latin countries, but are fairly well known almost everywhere. The mano cornuta consists of lifting up the first finger and the little finger, while folding the other two fingers and the thumb into the palm. The mano in fica is made by closing all the fingers into a fist, and thrusting the thumb between the first and second fingers. ‘The fig’ is a synonym for the female genitals. Both these gestures are signs used by witches, as well as being defences against the Evil Eye.
Little amulets of hands making these signs can still be bought in Britain and on the Continent. These gestures are of very great antiquity. Ancient Egyptian examples of the mano in fica have been found; and the paintings in Etruscan tombs show dancers holding up their hands in the position of the mano cornuta.
The mano in fica was known in Britain too, as the old folk-rhyme shows:
Witchy, witchy, I defy thee!
Four fingers round my thumb,
Let me go quietly by thee.
Dean Ramsay, writing about his schooldays in Yorkshire between about 1800 and 1810, told how he and his classmates “used to put one thumb between the first and second finger, pointing it downwards, as the infallible protection against the evil influences of one particularly malevolent and powerful witch”.
Another means of baffling the Evil Eye was by means of twining and interlacing knots. It was thought that the malicious glance, on being confronted by a pattern like this, was caused to wander and lose its force. A relic of this belief can be found in the elaborately patterned silver buckles sometimes worn on their belts by nurses. In olden days a good deal of sickness was blamed on to the Evil Eye; so a nurse in particular had to be able to protect herself. Hence the custom arose of wearing buckles of this kind; though present-day nurses may not realise the origin of it.
The elaborate interlacings and intertwinings of Celtic and Saxon decorative art probably arose from the same idea. Such decoration protected against the Evil Eye; so it was fortunate and good to enrich things with.
Another remedy against the Evil Eye was to have something to outstare it. So representations of eyes were worn, in particular the so-called ‘eye-beads’ made of black and white onyx, cut and polished so as to resemble an eye. Brooches, rings and men’s cuff-links are also seen today made from this semi-precious stone. In Ancient Egypt the amulet called the Eye of Horus was worn for the same purpose.
Bright, shining witch-balls were hung in the windows of old houses, to reflect the sinister looks of dangerous passers-by back upon themselves. (See WITCH-BALLS.)
The tremendous number of different amulets against the Evil Eye, of practices and ceremonies to avert it and of various names for it in different languages, all show the universality of this belief. The Ancient Romans called it the oculus fascinus; the Greeks knew it as baskania. In Italian, it is malocchio, or la jettatura. Germany calls it böse blick; Spain mal ojo; France mauvais oeil. In far-off India, it is feared as drishtidosham. Old-time Gaelic-speaking Scotland called it chronachaidh, and to the Irish it was droch-shuil.
And an old Gaelic charm, to be spoken over one who had been ‘overlooked’, ran like this:
The eye that went over,
And came back,
That reached to the bone,
And reached the marrow,
I will lift from off thee,
And the King of the Elements
Will aid me.
Of course, all charms have to be spoken three times; and this one was supposed to work best on a Thursday or a Sunday.
But how was the Evil Eye supposed to be put on? Innumerable are the remedies against it; but information about how it casts its evil spell is scanty. Very often people are believed to be born with this power; and frequently without any wish for it on their part.
A number of famous people have been credited—or should one say discredited?—with possessing this malign power. Lord Byron, the poet, was one. So was the late King of Spain, Alfonso XIII, and Napoleon III, the Emperor of France. Even Pope Pius IX, and his successor, Pope Leo XIII, were believed to have the Evil Eye; not because they were wicked, but simply because they had been born with this fatal gift, whether they wanted it or not.
The person who is different is the one whom human nature fears. Thus, among the generally fair-haired and blue-eyed English, it is the dark, flashing eye of the Gypsy, the Latin or the Oriental that raises fearful thoughts of fascination and sorcery. But among the Spaniards, blondes are feared! “Las rubias son venenosas”, “Blondes are poison”, runs the old Spanish proverb. The dark Moroccans think that people with blue eyes are the ones to beware of.
“The eyes are the windows of the soul”, says the old proverb; and this can be interpreted for good or evil. The silent curse of the Evil Eye, which came from the soul within, was more dreaded than openly spoken maledictions. Its very silence gave it the pent-up concentration of something formulated with one’s whole being. And if a truly deep and burning anger were behind it—who knows?
In 1616 a woman called Janet Irving was brought to trial in Scotland on charges of witchcraft. It was stated in evidence that “the Devil” had told her: “If she bore ill-will to any body, to look on them with open eyes, and pray evil for them in his name, and she should get her heart’s desire”.
“The Devil” may have meant the leader of the coven, who instructed her in magic, or perhaps ‘Old Hornie’, the god of the witches himself. But this description is the only one I know of the real laying-on of the Evil Eye.
For after all, if witchcraft had no teeth and claws to defend itself, would it have endured through centuries of persecution?
The effect of the belief in the Evil Eye in Scotland (and elsewhere) was sometimes turned to good account by cunning old ladies, who would otherwise have lived in dire poverty. As the old Scots song tells us:
Kimmer gets maut, an’ Kimmer gets meal,
And cantie lives Kimmer, right couthie an’ hale;
Kimmer gets bread, an’ Kimmer gets cheese,
An’ Kimmer’s uncannie een keep her at ease.
And good luck to the “pawkie auld dame”! The lot of the poor and the unfortunate, in the days before the Welfare State, was often pitilessly hard. They can scarcely be blamed for turning popular beliefs to their advantage.
The harried and hounded gypsies do the same thing today. How many people have bought something off a gypsy, not because they wanted it but because ‘you never know’?
EVOCATION
One often finds the words ‘evocation’ and ‘invocation’ used in writings about the occult, as if they both meant more or less the same thing. To a practical occultist, however, this is not so. It is only the lower orders of spirits which can be evoked; the higher spirits and the gods are invoked. One invokes a god to the magical circle; one evokes a spirit into the magical triangle.
This principle holds good both for the craft of the witch and for ceremonial magic of the kind taught by the books of magic called grimoires. Most of the latter give directions for forming the magic circle, protected by sigils of occult potency and by Words of Power; and outside the circle they depict the triangle of evocation, protected in a similar manner and drawn in the place where the spirit is expected to appear.
Sometimes a censer of incense is placed within the triangle, so that the spirit can make itself a body, so to speak, out of the curling and wavering smoke arising from the censer. This process is helped, so magicians aver, by blending with the incense a herb called Dittany of Crete (Origanum dictamnus).
Probably the best description in print of what really happens at a serious attempt at magical evocation, is given in Gerald B. Gardner’s historical novel High Magic’s Aid (Michael Houghton, London, 1949).
The witch, or the white practitioner of the craft at any rate, seldom meddles with evocation of the type described in the grimoires. (By ‘white’ in this context, I refer to the type of magic involved, not the colour of the operator’s skin.) The magic of the grimoires, by its own admission, consists of evoking highly dangerous forces, which are controlled and compelled by the Names of Power and by the magical sigils, and made to do one’s bidding. These Names of Power are a strange mixture of Hebrew, Greek and sometimes unknown tongues, and they usually mean some attribute of God, or some Qabalistic formula. AGLA, for instance, means Ateh Gibor Leolam Adonai, “Unto Thee be Power for Ever, O Lord”; TETRAGRAMMATON means the Holy Name of four letters, whose true pronunciation was only known to the High Priest of Israel; and so on.
The evocations described in the grimoires are performed by rites which are within the framework of either Judaism or Christianity, however unofficial those rites may be. In the same way, a Mohammedan magician will use the Holy Names of Allah and recite verses from the Koran, in order to make the spirits obey him. Magic has been practised, and continues to be practised, in a thousand forms, all over the world; but its basic principles remain the same.
On this point, the anonymous author of a very rare and remarkable old book, Art Magic (Progressive Thinker Publishing House, Chicago, Illinois, 1898), had this to say:
Let it be borne in mind . . . that such features of each system are but the exoteric forms in which the esoteric principles are wrapped up. They have no real potency beyond the satisfaction they procure to pious minds, that they are engaged in no ceremonials displeasing to their Gods, or contrary to their forms of worship.
Provided always that the magician is duly prepared by fasting, abstinence, prayer, and contemplation—provided that his magnetism is potent and his will all-powerful—the spirits will obey and answer him, whether he conjures them in the name of Buddha, Osiris, Christ or Mahomet. The true potency resides in the quantity and quality of the Astral fluid, by which the operator furnishes means for the use of the spirits, and the power of the will, by which he compels beings less potent than himself to obey him.
This passage illustrates also the essential difference between evocation and invocation. Evocation seeks to compel a discarnate entity, presumed to be of a lower order, to obey our summons. Invocation calls upon a spiritual being, which we feel to be at least our equal (as in the case of a human spirit) or our superior; and solemnly asks that spirit, angel, or god to grant us the favour we seek.
The endeavour to communicate with spirits of departed human beings is usually a matter of invocation, of providing the necessary conditions and atmosphere and then inviting friendly spirits to communicate. However, attempts at evocation of discarnate humans are sometimes made; for instance, in the case of a malignant haunting, or an unwanted obsession by such a spirit, some magical practitioners would seek to compel the spirit to manifest, and then order it to depart to its proper sphere. In general, however, the spirits summoned by processes of evocation are not human spirits but those of the many orders and types of elementals. (See ASTRAL PLANE, THE.)
We find the belief that:
Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
Unseen, both when we wake and when we sleep
is shared by people of all times and all races. Even today, in our world of motor cars, moon-flights, and television, we still get curious and inexplicable tales of poltergeist disturbances, for instance, or of queer things happening when a fairy rath is disturbed in Ireland.
We also have many eye-witness accounts from people who have seen non-human spirits, such as are usually called elementals. These may be beautiful or hideous, friendly or horribly malignant. Furthermore, the belief that such non-human spirits may become the familiars of magicians, and be commanded by them, is also world-wide. We find it among the occultists of the East, as much as among those of the West.
In general, however, the witch avoids the types of evocation which seek to compel spirits to do one’s bidding and seeks the aid only of friendly spirits who willingly lend their assistance.
There is this to be said, nevertheless, about some of the old forms of evocation; namely that they have an extremely potent effect upon the operator. They serve to raise the mind of the magician to a magical fever-pitch, in which the inner eye of the mind may open and things be perceived which were veiled before. The rhythmic chanting of some old form of evocation, by its insistent beat, puts the mind into a receptive state.
This is the reason why there is so much stage superstition about Shakespeare’s play Macbeth. Actors, being sensitive people, regard Macbeth with a certain timidity, because they have found that the witches’ incantations in the play have a real effect, even if only to cause a shiver. The intensity with which they are uttered, the strangeness of the words, the cumulative rhythm of the chanted spell, all work upon the suggestibility of the person who says them, in the right atmosphere of shadowy, uncanny, anything-may-happen weirdness.
There is an old magical dictum: “Change not the barbarous names of evocation”; “the long strings of formidable words which roar and moan through so many conjurations”, as Aleister Crowley called them. A basic teaching of witchcraft, as the writer has received it at any rate, is that the real powers of magic are within the magician, and that the purpose of magical ritual with all its adjuncts is to bring them out, to awaken them and set them working. Then things start to happen!
Sometimes, indeed, more starts to happen than the operator is prepared for, or is able to handle. Hence the subject of evocation is one to be approached cautiously and handled with care; as indeed is all practical occultism.
