Monday, March 7, 2011

Frau Holle Teich

It's probably no surprise to those of you that read this blog that I love the process of reconstruction. Because I do. The oft-cited argument for reconstructionism, is that of Christopher Parkening and his study of medieval tapestries in order to better reconstruct lute playing in a more efficient manner. As reconstructionists, there's often the assumption that it's just all an academic exercise or that we're trying to make like it's 699AD or something. This is simply not true.

Most reconstructionists, are the most respectful and genuine Heathens with the 'faith' aspects of Heathenry that I know.

In a conversation with a recon friend last night, we discussed the whole respect thing and if a lot of people that fall under the Heathen banner actually believe or are using it as some form of self-help. It sounds harsh, but hear me out. The world was not a nice place back then, life was harsh and it's no surprise that the gods themselves could be harsh too. And yet, as a modern Heathen, it's so common to come across people that talk about having personal relationships with deity in a really 'chummy' way. Occasionally people will make jokes/not-jokes about Odin screwing people over but I often wonder if the sentiment behind it is real. If there is any real fear there. Some folks seem to be of the opinion that the gods are at their beck and call, to do anything they want in exchange for the burning of a cheap joss stick or splashing mead on the ground. Again, to me, this shows a lack of real respect or belief. A recon is more prepared to give the best they can or even shed blood. Not because a book says so, or because it was 'how it was done back then', but because they believe in that exchange of gifts. This doesn't mean to say that I don't think others don't have any real belief, just that I think as a movement, we've got a hell of a long way to go.

It's perhaps to be expected though, we all mostly come to Heathenry from a faith that emphasises its adherents having a 'personal relationship' with Jesus and that demands adherence to certain rules in exchange for whatever. For us, it's about the gifting process. A gift for a gift.

This conversation with my friend about real respect was timely because on Saturday, I got a kick up the arse.

Ever since taking up handspinning, I've been interested in spindle lore and as I live in Bavaria, this led to looking into Perchta. Then I found a folktale from my local area about Frau Hulle (translated in an earlier post in this blog) and the interest in all things Holle grew from there. A friend recommended a book by a chap called Garden Stone. His book, 'Goettin Holle' is impressive (and I would recommend it to anyone reading this - there's an English translation coming soon), I really like his approach. The first chapter is a little like a guidebook and encourages people to travel to the places that are linked with Frau Holle. Other chapters cover plants associated with her in folklore, an impressive collection of folklore and sayings about Holle and much more.


Last Saturday, we decided to take a trip to a place called the Frau Holle Teich. It's a pond, with a small piece of land at one end with a statue of Frau Holle on it. According to the local lore, it's a place where people have been offering to Holle for years. So, deciding to make this into an adventure for our small family, my husband and I packed the dog into the car and set off for the Meissner-Kaufunger Wald area of Hessen. In total, we drove for around six to seven hours on Saturday. When we arrived there, we parked up at the side of the road (where google maps told us to - hubby had his iphone) and walked up the hill. Well, what we thought would be short, turned out to be a slightly longer trek up hill and down icy paths. Still, the scenery was absolutely beautiful, really really gorgeous. When we finally made it to the Teich, it was stunning. The Teich was completely frozen over, and the statue looked ethereal in the middle of it all. Especially with the way the warm air was hitting the icy ground and producing this lovely, white mist.

We walked around the pond to get closer to the statue and I realised that I didn't have an offering. So I decided to offer one of my silver pendants and so after a bit of deliberation with the husband and determining that the pond was frozen enough to walk on, I walked over to the statue to place my offering.

It.was.terrifying.

Not the ice walk, although I wasn't happy about that - ponds rarely freeze enough in Britain to walk on and so it's drummed into your head from being small that you don't walk on iced up lakes/ponds/rivers. No, it was the sense of presence around that statue. I found myself bowing my head deferentially as I buried my offering in the snow and ice at the foot of the statue, hoping that in the melt, mud and spring rains, it would find its way into the Teich itself. In my 30 years, I have never felt that mixture of fear/awe that I got when I stood before her statue.

Once I made my offering, I left quickly across the ice, as I touched solid ground again, I realised I'd heard something on my way over, this strange sound that my husband hadn't heard at all. We stood on the banks of the Teich a little and this gorgeous sunshine burst out from behind the trees and it was definitely a sense of 'offering accepted'. My husband and I kissed in what was now the bright sunlight before thanking Frau Holle and making our way back to the car.

Once we left the Teich, we realised that google maps had really led us wrong and that had we just driven another kilometer down the road, we would have been parked right outside the Teich.

Still, we didn't mind and spent most of that kilometer walk along the road back to the car laughing our heads off about it.

So yes, the talk I had with my friend was timely, because that brush with Frau Holle has definitely changed my views somewhat on a level I'm still trying to sort out.

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Envy

I'm envious.

For weeks, I've been looking at certain people that I really shouldn't be envious of and finding myself a little envious of them.

If you know what I'm talking about and you're still reading, I'll explain why.

There are a couple of reasons, first of all, they have people with the same focus that they can talk to, I'm not talking about the sicko stuff, but the weird stuff that can get a person ostracised from mainstream community. Of course, they have found a community of weird people where they can talk about weird stuff but still...on some level I wish I had that. I used to be more open about this stuff, but increasingly I don't feel able to talk about this anymore. It's a lonely place to be in.

Secondly, they don't ever seem to question their sanity. I do, all the damn time. I know that maybe makes me sane(r) and maybe that's a good thing, but I wish I had the freedom of truly not giving a fuck about that. I hate the questioning that comes a day after something messed up happening and that feeling like the world has somehow pulled the carpet out from underneath me and that everything is somehow less 'real'. Paradoxically, I hate having witnesses even more, because most of the time, I convince myself that nothing really happened and if there are witnesses, I can't do that.

So yeah...

Thursday, January 6, 2011

Law and Spirituality

I had a dream last night (staring Odin) that was pretty interesting. Now I'm not saying that this was Odin or that I'm Odin's little snowflake, because I'm not. My brain simply churns things over when I dream and makes connections that I don't see when I'm awake.

My husband, Odin and I were going from court to court to court, all at different levels (as you do...). From a 'door court' to a modern high court, to a magistrates court and again and again, we were told that 'this is how it must work with the Holy Powers too'.

When I woke up this morning, I couldn't help but consider the role of law in Heathen society, how they considered law to apply to the living as well as the dead (as evidenced by the 'door courts' held to resolve hauntings in properties) and the possible parallels between how we conduct ritual, how court was conducted and also how we view/deal with gods in the equation.

Heathen society was 'world accepting' in that a person wasn't looking for some otherworldly salvation or goal. Spiritual growth wasn't about getting closer to a deity, it was about community and growing in your community. So surely it would make sense that one of the ways in which a person could do that was through the Allthing ? How he or she represented herself at the Thing would invariably affect how his or her community would see him/her and ergo the amount of regard that person was given.

However it does also bring up what we as Heathens should consider to be the law and, in line with another debate that's occurring at the moment, what do we do when we feel it's violated.

Discuss?

Monday, January 3, 2011

Lost on the Moors

This is a short story about a folkloric being from my local area that we all used to tell each other about as kids and one fictitious man's encounter with that being. When we were children, we were told not to go in certain bodies of water to swim because of this being. Her folklore has fascinated me for a long time and I wanted to write a short story about her. I'm aiming to do this for a few other beings from folklore in future. For those of you that know all about her already, I know I took a bit of artistic license with some bits of this story - especially the ham but I wasn't sure how else to extricate my character from his situation. The dialect is just my interpretation of how it sounds like it should be written to me and is based on the strong dialect of a guy that used to live down my road. You lot know there are no spelling rules for Lanky Twang :P. This story isn't really set in any time and the photo is of a place where we were told was one of this being's favourite hangouts.



*****
It was getting dark by the time the man was making his way home across the boggy moors and he was getting nervous. The moors are a wild place, full of ghosts and boggarts. He'd heard the stories many a time about people that hadn't made it home or who had seen the large, black, demon dog with flaming eyes only to die a few days later.

Why was he on the moors at night again? He'd been warned against that since he was a child.

It had been market day in town of course, no getting out of that if he and his family wanted to eat and the moors were the quickest way home. He should have been over them by now though. He should be home with his family, stretched out in front of the hearth and eating his wife's bread and broth.

The paths were treacherous though and easily mistaken for sheep paths;maybe he'd taken a sheep path? Maybe that's why he wasn't home yet?

He didn't want to think about being lost, not up here and certainly not at night.

There was a bloke that used to live down his street called Fred Thistlethwaite who didn't believe in the old superstitions, and would go hunting with his old wolfhound at night. 'Tis allus t'best time' he used to say as he headed out into the twilight with his snares in hand and dog following close behind. One day though, he hadn't come back but his dog had, shaking and whimpering down the street until someone took it in. A search party had gone out and found him dead, his face frozen in terror and hands clawed as if trying to fend off something ghastly.

He didn't want that to happen to him but he was most certainly lost and not even sure he was on a sheep path anymore. Not knowing where he was, he carried on walking as he seemed to be going slightly downhill. Downhill's a good thing, right? There was also no mist and he was thankful for that too. There were all kinds of nasty things that could come in the mist.

Suddenly the moon exited the cloud cover and he spotted the sparkle of a tarn in the distance. He knew tarn water wasn't good but he was just so thirsty and so he headed towards it.

As he drew closer, he fancied he could hear singing, there couldn't be anyone still up here could there? Before his death, Fred Thistlethwaite might have been up here so it could be possible! Even so, he approached with caution.

It was a woman, reclining on a rock at the side of the tarn and combing her long, straggly hair with her fingers as she basked in the moonlight.

'Excuse me please!' the man said, 'Could tha be suh kind as t'tell mi how ah con get back to Brinscall?'

The woman looked at him fixedly and in the next moment she was at his side, smiling a toothy smile with teeth that looked like they were made from small, sharpened, alge-covered rocks. The man was afraid, nothing natural could move like that.

'Er...'

He stopped as the woman came to stand before him. The hair she had been finger combing now looked like pond weeds and she had a distinctively inhuman quality. Almost as though her skin was shimmering water.

'Brinscall...'


Her voice sounded watery too, as though she had no breath in her body and he gasped as a memory surfaced of childhood and the older children warning him about certain watery places and a 'Granny' that haunted them. It had been a favourite story in his group of friends. His eyes widened and she smiled her sharp, green, smile again.

'Tha's too owd fer my tastes lad!'

Frozen in place, the man waited as she walked around him, a cold draft passing as she did. He shuddered. What could he do? His mind began to race and go through the stories, all of them were about children and how she took her pleasure from drowning little boys and girls. There was nothing about adults! How could he get out of this? It's not like he could throw salt on her – he had none and wasn't even sure it was going to work! Getting a grip on himself, he decided to try talking to her again, it's not like it could do any more harm than had already been done, right?

'Ah'm er...very glad t'hear that mi lad-'

'Call me 'Granny'!', the woman said quickly.

'Ahh, reet, yes....ah'm very glad t'hear that 'Granny'. Ah'm sorry to be botherin yer though, ah got mysel' lost 'ere on't moors...'

'Granny' eyed him more closely and smirked cruely, 'Followed a sheep path did yer? Ah'v ad a few that way....that there algae is reyt slippy under certain circumstances'

She came closer, meeting him eye to eye and breathed, 'Ah keyps the algae wet on purpose...'

The man nearly gagged on the smell of stagnant pond.

'Ok, er..like ah sed, ah'm glad am t'owd fer thi....ah really need t'be getting back t'Brinscall, so ah must bi off!'

Bravely he turned as thought to march away from her but as he did, he found her standing before him as though he'd never moved.

'Hast tha geet owt for me? Ah do so like gifts.'

Not taking his eyes of her, he took his pack from his shoulder and searched through it for something he could maybe give her. In the end, all he could find was his last crust of bread, some hard cheese and a small piece of ham.

'Ah'm sorry, ah'v nowt else.,' he said as he handed the gifts over to her, 'It'd be different if ah'd come across yer before ah'd gone t'market...'

'Granny' smiled genuinely and reached out to take the gifts. She seemed especially delighted with the ham.

'There was a time, when folk would gi me this stuff wi'owt avin t'ask...'

The man didn't know what that meant but she had almost sounded wistful.

Slowly she walked past him, staring at the ham and taking her time to inhale it, her sport with the man almost forgotten.
'Yer path is o'er there, follow it t'trees, tha'll see a barn on yer right, go past it, t'road'll get bigger after that and you'll end up back in Brinscall.'

Thankfully the man picked up his pack and headed off, not entirely sure if he should shout a quick thank you to the 'Granny' or if it was best to stay forgotten and disappear into the night.

He opted for the latter and found the path as 'Granny' had described it. When he got home, he hugged them gratefully and slurped up his broth with enthusiasm before sitting them all down to tell his tale of Granny Greenteeth.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

Traditions: Mourning The Passing Of The Old And Celebrating The Birth Of The New

I've come to the conclusion that all the celebrations around the new year make me homesick. Every year back home there are certain traditions that are observed on new year's eve that really make the night for me. The being with friends and family, the standing with crossed arms and holding hands with everyone you're celebrating with in a circle to sing 'Auld Lang Syne' at the stroke of midnight before going round hugging and kissing each other with best wishes for the new year, the newer tradition of fireworks in our too-small gardens,the old tradition of going knocking on your neighbours' doors with a bottle of whatever's handy to wish them a happy new year. I miss all of that. I don't even think it would be possible in other places because people don't live close enough to each other. Growing up on a row of terraced houses, you're never really alone. Everyone knows what's going on with everyone else. If it rains and you have washing drying on the line in the yard, your neighbours either knock on your window to let you know or they'll take it in for you if you're out. In summer we stand in our yards and talk to each other over the fences. When I was younger, homebrew kept in sheds would be shared too. There were street parties, we would sit on the street and talk to each other.

I don't think I'm really homesick for any place at new year's eve but rather a time. I see those old traditions disappearing even back home and it makes me sad in the same way that my dialect and the decreasing numbers of speakers of that dialect does. And I really believe in keeping traditions, they're our link to our ancestors but sometimes they're just not possible.

So you sometimes have to create anew and I think last night, we finally came up with something nice.

Being outside in the falling snow, with a background of fireworks, dancing our own dance and singing 'Auld Lang Syne' was really nice. A bottle of whisky tucked in my bag kept us warm and when we got home, I kept an old tradition that I could keep in its entirety: opening the door to let the old year out and the new year in.

Today more new traditions were created. We cleaned the house, then we cleaned ourselves and our clothes before I blessed the house with mugwort again and said a short prayer to Frija and Holda.

These new traditions feel good, even though I still mourn the old ones that are passing into memory and I hope they help bring us luck.

So, happy new year people and I wish you all the best for this coming year.

May it be a lucky one for us all!

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Frau Hulle

On the Schellenberg between Heimbuchenthal and Wintersbach there used to stand a stately castle. In the courtyard of this castle there grew a beautiful linden tree. The tree was very tall and the saying went that as long as the linden stood and stayed green, the castle would also bloom. Woe betide though if the linden were to be destroyed for then the castle and its inhabitants would also meet the same fate.

In this castle, there once lived a great lord and his two sons. The eldest son was tall and handsome and the youngest was short and ugly who, in childhood sadly broke his leg and was from then on known as 'Twisted Jakob'.

The lord of the castle was old and sick. Sensing his end was near, he called his sons to his bedside. It was not easy for him to speak, his voice was weak and shook with each word:
'My firstborn, from this day forth, I give you my castle and this wooden coffer filled with gold. Swear to me though that you will always keep our dear Jakob by your side and that you will always be a good brother to him. Make sure all his needs are taken care of!'

With an earnest face, the eldest son gave his word that he would take care of his brother and on that self same day, their father began his eternal sleep.

The old lord was hardly in the ground before the eldest brother broke his word and increasingly came to treat Jakob worse than the day labourers did. No longer would Jakob be allowed to sit at his table to eat nor live in his castle. Instead, the poor Jakob was cast out to sleep in the stall with the horses and eat with the dogs from a bowl.

It didn't take long for Jakob to decide that it would be best to leave his hardhearted brother as soon as he could and so one morning, Jakob went to his brother and said:
'Give me my share of our inheritance, I want to go into the wider world and try my luck elsewhere.'

The new lord of the castle however gave him nothing and just had Jakob thrown out of the castle.

Defeated, Jakob wandered into the surrounding forests and came to rest completely exhausted under a tree, where resting his head on his knees he cried bitterly. When he finally looked up, he caught a glimpse of an old woman on a spinning wheel. Strange. Jakob had heard no sound of her coming. With the nodding of her head, the greyhaired woman peddled the spinning wheel. Jakob had no idea that it was Frau Hulle that was approaching him.

The good hearted old lady wanted to know why Jakob had been crying so bitterly.
'What do you care of my fate. You can't help me.'

Frau Hulle replied:
'You're 'Twisted Jakob' from the Schellenberg castle, aren't you? I know you and your wicked brother. I can help you if you trust me.'

Her words went straight to twisted Jakob's heart as they were the first kind words he'd heard since his father had passed away.
'My brother forced me to eat with the dogs from their feeding bowl! And when I went to ask for my portion of the inheritance, he threw me like a beggar from my father's castle!'

The old lady comforted him:
'Come with me, after exactly three years, we'll go to see your brother again. Perhaps he'll repent in the meantime and give you what's rightfully yours.'

Jakob agreed immediately and Frau Hulle took him with her to her house and Jakob quickly became her indispensable helper. In the summer he cultivated her flax field, cut fence posts in the winter for the vineyard farmers and sail masts for boatmen. Frau Hulle was occupied for the entire time with her spinning wheel.

In the spring, the pair brought their wares to the Main to sell. If Jakob found it became too difficult to carry the fence posts and sail masts because of his lameness, then the good Frau Hulle would take them from him with her scrawny arms and throw them into her shoulder basket as though they were little more than bails of straw. Between Hasloch and Faulbach there was a stone on the way where they would stop to rest each time and in the place where Frau Hulle would lay down her shoulder basket, there are indents in the path from the weight of that load that are still there to see to this day.

Jakob did all he could for Frau Hulle and she taught him everything that there was to know about farming, so that in the end, he understood the land better than one who was born a farmer.

When the three years were up, Frau Hulle told him that they were going to see his brother that day and immediately picked up her distaff, put on her shoulder basket and together they set off for the castle.

When they arrived, they found the wicked brother sitting lazily under the linden tree. Seeing their approach, he asked them what they wanted. Frau Hulle's voice was authorative as she spoke:
'You know exactly what you are guilty of when it comes to your brother. Today we want you to finally give him his rightful inheritance!'

The firstborn brother arrogantly replied:
'If you don't leave and go back to where you came from, I'll rip your wobbly head off and as for 'Twisted Jakob', I'll lame his other leg!'

The old lady was so angry, she took her distaff and stabbed it into the linden tree. At that moment the birds flew away and from the roots to the highest branches the tree began to tremble – from the roots to the branches, the life's blood of the old tree began to drip onto the floor. Soon, the leaves turned brown and fell off.

Frau Hulle shouted:
'Unspeakable one! As with the linden tree, so shall it be for you and the castle too!! You will whither and nevermore know luck!'

With those words, she and Jakob turned and left the castle.

As predicted, so it happened and the castle began to wither away little by little as the linden tree had. Every storm brought the fall of a tower or wall, the rain soaked the roof tiles away and soon the roof trusses became dilapidated. The servants no longer wanted to live in the castle and in the end, only the lord was left living in the cellar where he would sit on his wooden coffer keeping a jealous watch.
At midnight, on the feast of St Martin (11/11) there was a great storm and the withered linden tree finally fell – exactly on the cellar door, blocking the exit. The wicked brother pushed with all his might but the door would not move even the smallest amount. As the the Schellenberg had already been abandoned by all who had lived there, there was noone left to hear his cries for help and so he was left to starve to death on his chest of gold.

Frau Hulle however, knew exactly what had happened and the day after the death of the firstborn son, she went into the courtyard, cleared away the linden tree and opened the gold chest. She divided the brothers' inheritance exactly and put what was rightfully Jakobs into her large purse. At the exact moment when she left the cellar, it collapsed in on itself and she went back to her house.

There, she spoke with Jakob:
'Now, each person has what is his, just as your father decreed. Take what is yours, however being a nobleman no longer has meaning for you. Become a farmer and you will be blessed with yet more luck. Live well and you will never see me again.'

Jakob took his leave and from the money, built a beautiful farm on the Hunsrueck mountain range near Altenbuch. He married a nice lady and fathered many sons and daughters. His barn saw no pestilence and his fruit trees stayed free from caterpillars. Nor did a single hailstorm come over his fields. At harvest time, sometimes Jakob would find that the work had already been done when he came to his fields early in the morning. The sheaves would already be cut, bound and put into piles. His neighbours would then puzzle over who had done such a good thing for him but only Jakob knew that it was Frau Hulle that she was still by his side.

When his first son was born, the happy Jakob decided he should try to find Frau Hulle to tell her of his luck and so he took to the road. He searched the whole day but could find neither the little house where she had lived, nor valley where the little house had been. In the evening, tired he set out for his farm again.

In the end, Jakob died at a very good age. His farm and courtyard still stand to this day and are owned by a farmer by the name of Hunruecks-Philipp.

From the book 'Es Spukt in Franken' by Michael Proettel,
Translation by Catherine Heath

Introduction To The Anglo Saxon Magico-Medical Healing Traditions

(This is something I wrote after a member of a forum I'm on PMed me and said he didn't understand a lot of my references)


Foreword

Britain in the early 5th century was a very uncertain place to be. The Roman legions were returning to Rome and the Pax Romana that the Romano-Britons had lived by for around five hundred years began to crumble. Civil wars broke out and the Picts, long held at the northern borders of the Roman empire, began to pose a significant security threat. In light of this, the British invited warriors from the peoples that would come to be known as Anglo Saxons to defend them. Mostly the Angles, the Saxons and the Jutes. They were to be the ‘foedorati’, or paid muscle for the Britons, a practice they had learned from the Romans.

This would turn out to be a fateful decision on the part of the Britons. According to the British cleric Gildas, these ‘foedorati’ mutinied in 442AD due to lack of payment and after much fighting, eventually went on to invade and settle the area that came to be known as England.

England was a rich land for the Angles, Saxons and Jutes, it was good land for growing crops and they sorely needed that. Due to climate change in the 5th century, their homelands had become wetter, flooding often and it had become increasingly difficult to grow crops.

How much the culture of the Germanic invaders was to supersede the culture of the Britons is still a matter of intense debate with the ‘traditional’ view leaning towards the Anglo Saxons annihilating the Britons and driving them to the Western and Northern areas of the island and the newer theories based on genetic evidence, grave evidence and linguistics take the view that it wasn’t so much of a complete annihilation of the Britons. Rather a merging of cultures.

However regardless of the various theories surrounding the Anglo Saxon migration and settlement of England, the Anglo Saxon period was to be significant in many ways. This essay will focus on one of those ways – that of the Anglo Saxon magico-medical healing traditions.

I would like to stress to the reader that this essay is merely what it says it is, an introduction. It is by no means exhaustive and it is written by a person with a love and a passion for the topic as opposed to a scholar. Having said that, I hope you find this subject just as interesting as I do and if you spot any errors or you can think of something that it would behoove me to add, please don’t hesitate to contact me and let me know.

What is meant by the term ‘Magico-Medical’?

In the modern western world, we tend to have a fixed idea of illness as being a physical thing and therefore only treatable by medical means. When we fall sick, we go to the doctors, the doctor may do some physical tests and then prescribe a form of treatment .

This is a drastically different view from what we know of how the Anglo Saxons saw illness and the treatment thereof. For the Anglo-Saxon without modern medical knowledge, medicine revolved not only around the use of herbs, but also tended to include a magical component.

This magical component, is quite surprisingly found not only in cures believed to have originated in the Heathen period, but also in very overtly Christian cures as well. The Anglo Saxon Christians really did not seem to have a problem with the concept of magical healing charms when they called upon the Christian god or used Christian sacraments.

Why focus on the Anglo Saxon healing traditions?

One of the things that some scholars believe the Anglo Saxons to have adopted from the Britons was the idea of a literary tradition. The tribes that made up the Anglo Saxons are believed to have had an oral tradition whereas the Britons had a very developed literary tradition. This was something that the Anglo Saxons adopted and took to like ducks to water. They went from an oral culture to one that wrote pretty much everything down. They were quite unique among the Germanic peoples as well because they were the only ones to record their healing practices in detail and not only that, but they recorded them in an instructional fashion so that people might benefit from what they believed to be good cures.

Were they good cures? Can I try them out at home?

The writers of the various Anglo Saxon healing manuals obviously thought so however as with all old herbals, it is best to be very cautious in trying out the treatments. Some herbs that were recommended for various illnesses are now known to be dangerous, some are best as ‘wound herbs’, some have unpleasant side effects and some are abortive. It is best to only use herbs that you know and have researched however that’s not to say that the charms cannot be adapted if you so wish.

How did the Anglo Saxons see sickness?

Well we know that the Anglo Saxon Leeches (medics) didn’t just work from northern European lore, we know that books such as Pliny’s ‘Natural History’ and Old English translations of Apuleius’s ‘Herbarium Apulet’ and the ‘Medicina de Quadrupedibus’ were known in Anglo Saxon England and so we have to assume that the Anglo Saxons would have been aware of the four ‘humours’ theory.

The theory of the Four humours centres around the idea that a person is made up of four ‘humours’ or liquids of the body (blood, phlegm, red/yellow bile and black bile) and that balance has to be sought between those humours in order to maintain good health.

The second influence on the way that the Anglo Saxons saw sickness were Judeo-Christian sources that basically gives the interpretation that all human suffering was attributable to human evil and was a way for god to test a person’s faith or punish them for previous sins. This school of thought held that prayer, intercession of the saints and sometimes pilgrimage was all that should be needed for a cure. In the very strictest form of this view, even herbs were to be shunned in the search for relief. Obviously judging by the amount of material that was written about healing charms, not everybody took this view.

The third influence was naturally that of the healing traditions that were native to the Anglo Saxons. From what we can tell from the sources, the Anglo Saxons recognized three kinds of cause for illness.

The first is invasion of the body from an outside source. This could be anything from a wound from a weapon or a serpent bite to being ‘elfshot’ (elves were believed to shoot darts or arrows at people) or hit by ‘flying venom’ loose in the land(infectious disease).

The second cause was believed to be anything that subtracted from the ‘wholeness’ of a person. This could be a supernatural being that would attack a person, poison them but feed off their vital force at the same time thus leaving them sick. It is worth noting that there are links between the Old English words for ‘whole’ and ‘health’. To heal someone is quite simply to make them whole again.

The third cause of illness was believed to be a disturbance in the balance of the body. This could be treated by taking steps to restore and re-affirm the true balance. Some of these conditions were linked to ‘deoflas’ (Christian devils) or ‘ylfe’ (elves).

What are the key points of Anglo Saxon magico-medicine?

Anglo Saxon magico-medicine tended to mix an extensive use of herbs with magical aspects such as narrative charms (another word for a verbal charm is ‘galdor’). These charms are called ‘narrative’ because quite simply, they tell a story of wounding/sickness and cure. One excellent example of this is the charm ‘Wið Fæstice’ (against a sudden stitch – elfshot):

Against a sudden stitch: feverfew and the red nettle which grows in through a building and waybread; boil in butter:
“Loud were they, lo loud, when they rode over the mound,
they were fierce when they rode over the land.
Shield yourself now that you may escape this evil.
Out, little spear, if herein you be!
Stood under linden, under a light shield,
where the mighty women readied their power,
and they screaming spears sent.
I back to them again will send another,
a flying dart against them in return.
Out, little spear, if herein it be!
Sat a smith, forged he a knife,
little iron strong wound.
Out, little spear, if herein it be!
Six smiths sat, war-spears they made.
Out, spear, not in, spear!
If herin be a bit of iron,
hag's [haegtesse] work, it shall melt.
If you were in the skin shot, or were in flesh shot,
or were in the blood shot, or were in bone shot,
or were in limb shot, may your life never be torn apart.
If it were ’sir shot, or it were elves' shot,
or it were hag's shot, now I will help you.
This your remedy for ’sir shot, this your remedy for Elves' shot;
This your remedy for hag's shot; I will help you.
It fled there into the mountains. . . . no rest had it.
Whole be you now! Lord help you!”

Then take the knife, dip in liquid.

- Lacnunga 134-135

Some of the charms in the various Old English texts include acts of a clearly magical nature but don’t have an accompanying verbal formula. One such example of this is to be found in Bald’s Leechbook – Book III:

‘2. For swollen eyes, take a living raven, take the eyes out of it and, still living, bring it into water, and put the eyes on the neck of the man to whom they are needful, he will soon be hale.’

Taking the eyes of the raven in order to cure the eyes of a person has absolutely no medical benefit however when one considers how reputedly sharp-eyed ravens are, it becomes obvious that this section of the second charm in book III of Bald’s Leechbook is a form of sympathetic magic.

In certain charms, repetition of certain acts and prayers is an important factor. The most common numbers that I have found for repetition in any kind of discernible pattern seem to be the numbers three, four, seven and nine.

Three seems to be ‘the magic number’, from a survey of the Lacnunga text, out of the one hundred and ninety-four charms contained within, twenty-nine of them have the number three included. Seven of those charms pertain to the dosage of the herbal substances, one of those charms recommends that the treatment last three days. The rest recommend that the galdor or prayers used be chanted three times. Sometimes, this is three different prayers chanted three times.

The number four is found in two charms in the Lacnunga and both involve curing infectious diseases, or ‘flying poison’.

The number seven occurs twice in the Lacnunga and is linked to purification and holiness. Charm number ninety-three recommends that seven sacramental wafers be inscribed with the names of the Seven Sleepers from Christian legend. As the charm is against dwarves and the Seven Sleepers were said to have slept in a cave without aging, it would make sense that those in fear of dwarves would call upon what they perceive to be holiness that was untouched in the dwarves’ domain. The second mention of the number seven pertains to purifying an infection. The word ‘dwarf’ seems to have been polysemous for the Anglo Saxons and could also refer to forms of illness.

The number nine occurs fifteen times in the text. In nine of those examples, the number nine is used in conjunction with treating skin growths or inflammations. In one of the examples, it’s part of a blessing used before drinking, sometimes the number nine also refers to the length of time that a treatment should be carried out for. One of the most interesting charms in which the number nine is significant is charm number one hundred and sixty-two which involves counting down from nine as a way to symbolize the shrinking process.

‘Against a swelling: “Nine were the sisters of noðþ; then the nine became eight, and the eight to seven, and the seven to six, and the six to five, and the five to four, and the four to three, and the three to two and the two to one, and the one to none”; this shall be the treatment of a swelling and of scrofula, and of a worm and of every evil; sing “ benedicite” nine times.”

One of the most striking things about a lot of the charms in the various Anglo Saxon texts is the use of various Christian sacraments and prayers as the magical component in the charms. There are mentions of sacramental wafer, the housel-dish, blessed wine, holy water, chanting the ‘Pater Noster’ a certain number of times, the ‘Benedicite’. Some charms such as the three prayers given in charms sixty-four, sixty-five and sixty-six are to be sung three times over a drink ‘and the man’s breath shall go wholly into the liquid while he sings it’.

One charm that demonstrates the use of Christian sacrament and tradition in an Anglo Saxon magico-medical context is charm number ninety-three:

‘Against a dwarf: one must take seven small sacramental wafers such as one offers mass with, and write those names on each wafer. Maximianus Malchus Johannes Martinianus Dioysius Constantinius Serafion. Then again the charm that is stated hereafter must be sung, first into the left ear, then into the right, then above the man’s pate; then have a virgin go to him and hang it about his neck, and do likewise for three days, soon it shall be better for him.

In came a spider creature/he had his mantle in his hand, said that you were his steed/laid his thong on your neck and they began to travel out of the land/as soon as they came away from the land, then their limbs began to cool/ then came in [?]’s sister/then she finished and swore oaths/that this should never ail the sick/nor whomever might understand this charm/nor whoever might intone this charm. Amen, let it be. Here are leechdoms against eruptions and swellings and deadly illnesses of every kind. Twenty-Eight.’

What can we learn about Anglo Saxon Heathenry and magic from the magico-medical traditions?

Anglo Saxon charms may seem quite Christian in nature however we can maybe extrapolate and piece together some of the methods and beliefs that the Heathen Anglo Saxons had from other Germanic sources. Some of the correlations, such as the use of numbers for certain purposes may be indicative of previous significance and associations to the Heathen Anglo Saxons. Some of the charms are quite explicit in their Heathen content too, especially the Nine Herbs Charm’ or the charm that counts down in order to shrink a swelling or the famous Acerbot (Field-Remedy) invocation:
Erce, Erce, Erce,
Earthen Mother.
May the all-powerful, eternal ruler
grant thee
acres fruitful
and flourishing,
increasing
and strengthening,
in high condition,
in bright abundance,
and the broad
barleycrops,
and the white
corncrops,
and all
earthly abundance.
Grant to him,
eternal ruler
(and his holy ones
who in heaven are),
that his ploughing be protected
against any and all enemies
and it be guarded
against each and every evil,
against those spells
sown through the land.
Now I bid the ruler
who shaped this world,
that neither the conjuring woman
nor the cunning man should
make any changes
to the words thus spoken.
Hale be you, earth,
mortals’ mother!
Be you growing
in the god[dess]’s grasp,
filled with food,
useful for folk. “

When examining these examples from Anglo Saxon charms, one good way of ascertaining how much is Christian and how much comes from older material, is to try and see if there are any other sources that back up the concept or ritual as being older.

One example of another text backing up this idea of worshipping an earth mother is Tacitus’s ‘Germania’:

‘There follow in order the Reudignians, and Aviones, and Angles, and Varinians, and Eudoses, and Suardones and Nuithones; all defended by rivers or forests. Nor in one of these nations does aught remarkable occur, only that they universally join in the worship of Herthum; that is to say, the Mother Earth.’

Another thing to keep in mind when examining sources, is who you are reading. This can be really important because nothing is infallible. Authors have biases and spin really isn’t a new thing.

Of course, the sources don’t always back each other up. For example, in Nordic mythology there are nine worlds on the world tree, however the ‘Nine Herbs Charm’ tells us that there are seven:

‘Chervil and fennel, two of great might
The wise Lord shaped these plants
While he was hanging ,holy in the heavens
He set them and sent them into the seven worlds’


Just as a matter of casual interest, this area of disagreement between the numbers seven and nine seems to have continued to the present day between German speakers and(quite confusingly) English speakers. For example, in Germany a cat is considered to have seven lives, whereas in England it has nine. A German speaker might say that they are on ‘cloud seven’, whereas an English speaker would say ‘cloud nine’.

What is the ‘Nine Herbs Charm’?

The charm that came to be known as the ‘Nine Herbs Charm’ is made up of verses 8o and 80 of the Lacnunga. It is a narrative charm that addresses each of the ‘power’ plants in turn giving their attributes and the story behind their power.

“Remember, Mugwort, what you made known,
What you arranged at the Great proclamation.
You were called Una, the oldest of herbs,
you have power against three and against thirty,
you have power against poison and against infection,
you have power against the loathsome foe roving through the land.

And you, Plantain, mother of herbs,
Open from the east, mighty inside.
over you chariots creaked, over you queens rode,
over you brides cried out, over you bulls snorted.
You withstood all of them, you dashed against them.
May you likewise withstand poison and infection
and the loathsome foe roving through the land.
'Stune' is the name of this herb, it grew on a stone,
it stands up against poison, it dashes against poison,
it drives out the hostile one, it casts out poison.
This is the herb that fought against the snake,
it has power against poison, it has power against infection,
it has power against the loathsome foe roving through the land.
Put to flight now, Venom-loather, the greater poisons,
though you are the lesser,
you the mightier, conquer the lesser poisons, until he is cured of both.
Remember, Chamomile, what you made known,
what you accomplished at Alorford,
that never a man should lose his life from infection
after Chamomile was prepared for his food.
This is the herb that is called 'Wergulu'.
A seal sent it across the sea-right,
a vexation to poison, a help to others.
it stands against pain, it dashes against poison,
it has power against three and against thirty,
against the hand of a fiend and against mighty devices,
against the spell of mean creatures.
There the Apple accomplished it against poison
that she [the loathsome serpent] would never dwell in the house.
Chervil and Fennell, two very mighty one.
They were created by the wise Lord,
holy in heaven as He hung;
He set and sent them to the seven worlds,
to the wretched and the fortunate, as a help to all.
These nine have power against nine poisons.
A worm came crawling, it killed nothing.
For Woden took nine glory-twigs,
he smote the the adder that it flew apart into nine parts.

Now there nine herbs have power against nine evil spirits,
against nine poisons and against nine infections:
Against the red poison, against the foul poison.
against the yellow poison, against the green poison,
against the black poison, against the blue poison,
against the brown poison, against the crimson poison.
Against worm-blister, against water-blister,
against thorn-blister, against thistle-blister,
against ice-blister, against poison-blister.
Against harmfulness of the air, against harmfulness of the ground,
agaist harmfulness of the sea.
If any poison comes flying from the east,
or any from the north, [or any from the south,]
or any from the west among the people.
Christ stood over diseases of every kind.
I alone know a running stream,
and the nine adders beware of it.
May all the weeds spring up from their roots,
the seas slip apart, all salt water,
when I blow this poison from you.

Mugwort, plantain open form the east, lamb's cress, venom-loather, camomile, nettle, crab-apple, chevil and fennel, old soap; pound the herbs to a powder, mix them with the soap and the juice oaf the apple.
Then prepare a paste of water and of ashes, take fennel, boil it with the paste and wash it with a beaten egg when you apply the salve, both before and after.



Sing this charm three times on each of the herbs before you (he) prepare them, and likewise on the apple. And sing the same charm into the mouth of the man and into both his ears, and on the wound, before you (he) apply the salve.”


What is récels?

Récels is simply the Anglo Saxon word for incense (vb. récelsian – to perfume/fumigate with incense).

Many people associate incense and especially fumigating a person as a form of healing ritual more with the new age movement than with any kind of Germanic practice. There are however a few references to incense, appropriate incense for different purposes and fumigating a patient as part of the healing in book III of Bald’s Leechbook.

Charm number sixty-two recommends this kind of practice as part of a treatment for ‘Elfsickness’.
When it comes to the patient, we are advised 'geréc þone man mid þám wyrtum' (smoke that man with the herbs).

Herbs that were generally used depending on purpose were fennel, wormwood, mugwort, hops, vervain, bilberry shoots, betony, leeks, garlic, enchanter's nightshade, and burdock.

There's also advice given in the same charm on how to prepare the incense”

‘do aelcre handfulle . bebind ealle þa wyrta on claþe bedyp on fontwaetre gehalgodum þriwa . Eft wit þon, lege under weofod þas wyrte laet gesingan ofer,’ . (Take a handful of each, bind all of the herbs in cloth, dip into hallowed spring-water three times. After this, against that (illness), lay these herbs under an altar and let them be sung over.)

There is further advice which some in the new age community might find a little familiar-sounding in some ways:

‘7 þonne he restan wille haebbe gleda þaerinne lege stor 7 alfþonan on ta gleda . 7 rec hine mid þaet he swaete 7 þaet hus geond rec.’ (And when he wishes to rest, have coals brought in there and lay incense and elfthon on the coals, and fumigate him with that so he sweats and fumigate around the house.)

What are the modern uses for Anglo Saxon magico-medical lore?

To put it simply, it’s up to you but again, I would advise caution when using herbs if you do not know what you are doing. Personally I tend to pay attention to things like how a charm is written and use them as models with which I can write my own. I pay attention to the numbers, to the things that may seem kind of quirky but that have similarities with other magical traditions and folklore that I know such as purification through running water. I sing over my herbs, I make herbal mixes that I sing over and then mop them into the floors of the house as a form of purification. I periodically use certain herbs as recels when needed. I look at existing charms and try to figure out new uses and applications.

Tradition has power and the first time you sing or chant a charm that’s over a thousand years old in a tongue that hasn’t been spoken for so long, you feel it. It’s different and it’s familiar all at the same time.

Afterword

This essay has now come to an end and there is perhaps nothing left to say but that I hope you found this interesting, that maybe you feel it’s interesting enough to start looking into this for yourself and to leave you with the traditional Anglo Saxon greeting/wish.

Wæs þu hæl!/Be whole!