16 - Witchcraft Today... and Tomorrow

Judged by existing trends, and with a concerted effort on the part of the practitioners, witchcraft in the future may zoom to proportions that could become alarming. However, the field is still in such a state of flux that it is impossible to compile a reliable Who's Who in Witchcraft; in fact, it is difficult even to determine Which's Witch. Apparently, all you have to say is, "I am a witch!" and you are one, as measured by your own yardstick.

Very little formal education is needed; perhaps the less, the better. One bouncy British witch admits to only three years of orthodox schooling, yet poses as the absolute authority on witchcraft, past, present and future. The accumulation of such erudition without study or research would be incongruous, except in witch-craft, which is incongruous in itself. Witches don't have to read books to absorb the knowledge contained therein; they just sleep on them. Or they can use a Ouija Board to tune in on unseen entities that will provide them with first-hand facts that never were recorded.

There has been so much talk of modern witches in rural England that anyone might suppose that the woods are full of them. But such is far from so. In the New Forest, long the traditional haunt of English witches, there were at recent report, only four active covens in an area larger than the entire District of Columbia. Yet this has been cited as proof that the witch cult has continued its uninterrupted course since antiquity, despite the fact that the "old religion" went out with the Druids around A.D. 67, while the New Forest was established as such by William the Conqueror, ten years after his victory at Hastings in 1066. That gap of a thousand years is a bit too big for even witchery to charm away.

Some members of rural covens can trace their ancestry back to victims of witchcraft persecutions; but those took place long after the Norman Conquest; and besides, most of the victims were falsely accused and therefore weren't witches at all. So any lore they handed down through successive generations can be classed as assorted superstitions, rather than the survival of ancient rituals. Since gypsies have long roamed the English countryside, their customs and curses have also roused the interest of today's self-styled witches; but since historians claim that the gypsies did not arrive in England until about 1500, linking them with the "old religion" would be ridiculous indeed, unless the gypsies happened to be the Druids coming back to Britain after long wanderings elsewhere; a better theory, perhaps, than some that have been seriously propounded.

Coming to London, the scene changes. While the rustic witches devote time to gathering herbs, tickling trout and furthering fertility festivals, like the Great Sabbats, their city cousins gather at neighborhood pubs and repair to nearby apartments to hold regular meetings, or esbats, where new candidates are initiated into the craft. This constantly increases the size of the covens, enabling them to subdivide like unicellular creatures and spread microscopically through the teeming life of the city, attracting new recruits until they reach the ultimate thirteen and are ready for another fission.

This results in loosely associated groups, all following a similar ritual and purpose. One acknowledged "King of the Witches" is credited with more than a hundred covens under his paternal tutelage. To prove how innocuous their ceremonies could be, he invited a camera crew to make a documentary film of a full-fledged initiation. A chalk circle nine feet in diameter was drawn on the carpeted floor of the snug meeting room, leaving the camera crew outside, though there was barely room for them. There was also barely room within the circle for what transpired there. The coven became "skyclad" by divesting themselves of all raiment and accoutrements, other than such ornaments as bracelets, chains and lockets, which were necessarily of silver, the metal symbolic of the moon.

The ritual, too, was "symbolic" insofar as its physical phases were concerned. After a customary chant, the witches went into a serpentine dance that took skilled footing to avoid winding up in a tangle like a juvenile parlor game. Following that, the initiate was introduced, threatened with a sword point, flicked lightly with a lash, as preludes to further and more sensual symbolism, based upon "Aradia," or the so-called "Gospel of the Witches." But such rituals, however platonic or well-intentioned they may be, far transcend the proprieties allowable with a television documentary.

That in itself is proof that much more could transpire at an esbat than meets the camera's eye; and no one is more aware of that than those long schooled in witchcraft. Once a new coven is launched, it becomes hard indeed to control it; and only too often some renegade group decides to switch from white witchcraft to black magic. Far from being difficult, that is sometimes too easy. Often, a person with a natural flare for witchcraft can sense the presence of evil entities along with good and must therefore cultivate the practice of banishing the bad by summoning the good.

All that can be reversed by drawing the circle the wrong way to keep spirits out instead of in. The good will stay away, but the bad throng about, hoping to break through the circle. By judicious use of cabalistic and necromantic rites, such powers can be bound and commanded to do the evoker's bidding. Things might go badly indeed with a camera crew attempting to film such a ritual. Left outside the circle, they would become targets of the frustrated evil entities who were unable to get at those within, and would be badly battered along with their equipment.

From this, it is painfully plain that when such forces are sent on their way at the evoker's order, trouble is due for anyone named as their victim. When word of such renegade activities gets back to the parent coven, its duty is obvious. In keeping with the "do good" policy that is the watchword of modern witchcraft, they cannot fight evil with evil. So they create a new cone of power at the next esbat and launch it like a miniature tornado in the direction of the offender, hoping to score a direct hit. By the old law that evil is its own undoing, the power of good turns those baleful influences back on the renegade who sponsored them, so that he suffers the harm he sought to inflict upon unsuspecting victims.

That still leaves a question unanswered; namely, why any coven, whatever its attitude, should set itself up as judge of right or wrong. As do-gooders, witches are apt to overdo things. Suppose a coven decides to further a girl's romance by concentrating their massed power on a boyfriend who has been ignoring her. If their efforts fail to click, the next step is to provide the lovelorn damsel with a love potion to bring him around; and if a rival for his affections should enter the scene, something still more potent might be recommended. Witchery has its own pharmacopeia, as every herb gatherer knows, and members of city covens know where to obtain the necessary powders that take over when powers fail.

A charming lack of consistency permeates the British witchcraft scene. One British witch who came to America to "sell" the craft in a big way, suddenly decided that astrology was her "first love" as taught to her by her old grandmother. Why her old grandmother would have been looking up at the stars while digging herbs, is rather puzzling in itself. A likelier explanation is that when the visiting witch observed the grip that astrology had already gained on the American public, she decided to tie it in with witchcraft, as an added selling point.

Other occult subjects have also been teamed with witchcraft. Some witches delve deeply into the mysteries of the tarots, or fortune telling cards, even dealing the pack all the way around the circle during an esbat, to intensify the influences drawn therein. Others use crystal gazing as a guide toward the formation of a coven, confident that faces seen in the crystal ball will be those of future members, who will be recognized in due course. Tea-leaf reading and palmistry are also highly favored, being akin to gypsy witchery. Yet there are some who take the opposite attitude, avoiding anything that savors of "fortune telling," presumably on the theory that the purpose of witchcraft is to shape the future, rather than be swayed by it.

One thing on which many witches are thoroughly in accord is the "Book of Shadows," which is regarded as a "must" for those who hope to rise high in the craft. Basically, it sets forth the Law of the Wicca, or the "wise folk," the term that witches have long applied to themselves; and to it may be added whatever personalized data seems sufficiently important. One of a graduate witch's first assignments is to copy or write his own "Book of Shadows" so that if he is caught with it, it will appear to be unique and therefore cannot involve others of the craft. Here, however, new discrepancies present themselves.

The "Book of Shadows" treats witchcraft as though it were very ancient, thereby bearing out its claim as the "old religion." But the book itself is obviously of medieval origin, as it is filled with advice on how to avoid persecution and mislead inquisitors, showing that it could hardly have been written until witch hunts were gathering real momentum. But it is doubtful that it was written even then, for two good reasons: First, the witches of that period were generally too illiterate even to read the rules, let alone write them; while second, and more important, the admonitions themselves were prima facie evidence that witchcraft was operating on a large scale in the form of covens, which could have been rounded up quite handily. Hence possession of such a book would not have been worth the risk, even though some member of the coven was supposed to destroy any such book immediately after the owner's death, unless the owner had already done so.

It is highly possible that the "Book of Shadows" made its first appearance long after witchcraft persecutions ceased and new generations of the craft were literate enough to write down sayings that had been passed along by word of mouth; and also felt safe enough to do so. There are skeptics, however, who feel that the "Book of Shadows" is a strictly modern concoction designed for the instruction of present-day covens, but given old-time nomenclature to make it seem traditional. The same applies to the phrase, "Blessed be," which today's witches use in greeting one another, as well as such chants as "Eko, Eko, Azarak; Eko, Eko, Aradia," which are used to raise the "cone of power," but are of Italian origin rather than British.

No matter how synthetic British witchcraft may have become, the mere weight of tradition has given it status and the success of its covens has done much to spread interest in other lands. Many witches have been welcomed by European covens, giving the craft an international status. But that has produced complications, as one English coven learned when approached by a delegation from India, who wanted them to officiate at the rededication of a long neglected temple. The Hindus turned out to be worshipers of Kali, the goddess of destruction and death; and when they casually announced that the ceremony would feature a human sacrifice, they were astonished that the English witches refused to have a part in it.

Nor was their surprise unjustified. The visitors had evidently been impressed by the claim that the current revival of witchcraft in Britain was a direct link to the "old religion" and therefore to the Druids, whose rites had been suppressed because they included human sacrifice. There are also certain similarities between the traditional worship of Diana and that of Kali. Just as Diana has her opposite in Hecate, so does Kali have "another self" in Devi. The sacrifice of small animals, such as dogs and cats, as well as chickens, was definitely charged to British witches when their persecution was at its height; and today, in Calcutta, there are regularly scheduled sacrifices of goats and calves, at Kalighat, a temple erected about the year 1809 on a site sacred to Kali.

As an added touch, it might be noted that at that time a secret society of stranglers known as the "Thugs" was rampant in India. Its members traveled in bands, killing and robbing unsuspecting victims, all in honor of Kali. The thugs operated in response to omens, exchanged greetings in a jargon of their own as a means of identifying one another and piously poured a portion of their loot into coffers reserved for Kali. Their form of human sacrifice, known as "Thuggee," was all but obliterated during the period of British rule in India, chiefly between 1828 and 1835, so in a sense, they suffered at the hands of the same Establishment that had persecuted the English witches several centuries earlier. With the formation of the Republic of India in 1949 and the repeal of the British Witchcraft Laws in 1953, it would seem that the old religions of Kali and Diana should have found something in common, but they didn't. Even when the Hindu delegation promised to provide victims who would not only be willing, but would deem it an honor to be sacrificed on Kali's altar, the straight-laced English witches refused to go along.

In America, witchcraft has taken a trend quite different from that of the cozy covens found in England. According to one estimate, there were some 400 covens in the United States, which would account for from 4,000 to 5,000 witches, not too far short of the British total of 6,000. However, considering that most of the island of Great Britain could be squeezed into the state of Idaho, which it somewhat resembles in shape, the American covens must obviously be scattered far and wide.

Having little in common with their English counterparts, except through hearsay, the American covens tend to be individualistic and self-sufficient to such degree that would-be witches are continually complaining that they can't find a coven to join and don't know how to start one of their own. So the estimate of 400 may itself be sheer guesswork. Yet one modern warlock who lives in Massachusetts insists that there are more than a hundred covens in New England alone. That is logical, considering that New England was the traditional home of American witchcraft, back when matters were equally hot in Old England. But like other American covens, those of New England have a way of meeting secretly, much like the early college fraternities and sororities.

In contrast to the close-knit coven system, America has inherited numerous forms of witchcraft from various ethnic groups that brought their traditions with them and were allowed to keep them unmolested, except in rare instances. That could partially account for the secretive factor; but there is another element, too. Intermingling of races and nationalities, beginning from the first contacts of European settlers with the native Indians, have resulted in a curious and remarkable intermingling of all phases of witchery. This was noted by a folklore foundation, some thirty years ago, with the result that an exhaustive survey was taken in a single county in the state of Illinois, where the foundation workers came up with more than 10,000 superstitions and bygone beliefs, all relevant to witchcraft and all accepted today.

From this it is obvious that witchcraft in America tends to develop spontaneously, rather than through the stylized formalities of the English covens, or the intense and highly emotional fervor encountered in many other lands. Taken from that standpoint, it has been estimated that there are about 60,000 qualified witches in the U.S.A. today, mostly operating on a non-coven basis. Anybody who believes in anything supernormal or supernatural with sufficient sincerity and intensity to convince others to believe the same, is on the royal road to witchcraft, with no stop-offs. That is how it happens in America and for a very good reason.

Witchcraft is closely associated with psychic phenomena; and where that field is concerned, America is the prime stamping ground. Indian legends are rich in ghostly lore and it was in their most powerful tribal territory - the Iroquois country of upper New York State - that modern spiritualism was born. There, two young girls, the Fox Sisters, somehow produced uncanny rappings that their parents took so seriously that they called in the neighbors, who were not just equally impressed, but more so. From that developed table tipping, the Ouija Board and finally the Duke University experiments in extra sensory perception, largely American innovations.

So it is not surprising that people should gather in Manhattan penthouses, suburban homesteads, or Greenwich Village pads and get so fired up by anything from ESP to LSD, that they begin receiving messages or gaining glimpses of the future. It's certainly more fun than gathering herbs, jumping over cauldrons, and waving sacrificial knives called "athanes" while chanting "Blessed be!" to prove that you don't intend to use them. It's more sophisticated, too.

When people gather for a social evening and begin to talk about ESP, somebody is almost sure to say, "If I had only brought my Ouija Board ..." Upon hearing that, the hostess either brings out her own, or calls her next door neighbor and finds that she has one and asks her to bring it over and join the hexfest. Meanwhile, somebody is sure to pull out a tarot pack and start dealing and reading it for anybody who is interested. Always, a neglected guest can go into a corner and start pushing pins in his favorite voodoo doll, perhaps intending them for the very person who ignored him. So if people pass out at the party, don't be surprised, even though none of those already mentioned may be to blame.

You never can tell what color candles may be burning in the cellar, or what sort of talisman some guest may be wearing, or whether the drinks have been spiked with some potent potion to stimulate love or luck. Such items and many, many more are supplied by dealers who stock the implements of hexcraft and provide "do it yourself" instructions with every order. Gauged by that ever-expanding market, the figure of 60,000 American witches might well be set at 600,000; or even at 6,000,000, if all persons who might like to try it are included.

Many psychic parties, in contrast, are reminiscent of old-time spirit seances, but on a more modern scale. Nobody would be surprised if a tipping table happened to levitate itself in the midst of the surrounding sitters. In these days of lunar landings, weightlessness has become a scientific fact; not an occult phenomenon. With reincarnation becoming a popular belief, a Ouija message may simply be your own self talking back from somewhere in the past or future, rather than that of some disembodied spirit dwelling in some happy but implausible perpetual "Summer-land."

Witch cults apparently are thriving in Southern California, partially because of its proximity to Mexico, where witchcraft has always been the rage. But the Southern California groups have been too busy with their own affairs to take cognizance of the commonweal, as all good witches should. Unlike the British Wicca, who for centuries have consistently raised tempests to repel invaders from their shores, all the Southern California covens together have been unable to dispel the smog perpetually hovering over Los Angeles, even though that city has its own official witch.

It could be that white witchery is on the way out, where California is concerned, for there a much more virulent phase of the craft has raised its dark and ugly head: Satanism. The spearhead of the expanding movement is a Church of Satan that holds a mock religious service with a nude model as a living altar in a roomy old manse replete with skeletons, tombstones and murals representing fiery scenes from hell. The presiding "high priest" of this conglomeration is a former carnival worker who has issued a Satanic Bible, with chapter introductions inscribed in a cryptic language termed "Enochian" which shows traces of various classical tongues, including Pig Latin.

Boldly, blatantly, this volume prescribes the Nine Satanic Statements, announces the advent of a new Satanic Age, lists the four Crown Princes of Hell: Satan, Lucifer, Belial, Leviathan; and follows with more than seventy Infernal Names, all helpful toward raising hell on earth. But when it comes to human sacrifice, the black book goes in for whitewash. Satanists, it would seem, could never countenance such a thing.

But it was countenanced in Paris in 1680, when a sorceress known as La Voisin provided great ladies with a "love powder" composed of the bones of toads, the teeth of moles, cantharides, iron filings, human blood and human dust. If that couldn't woo a lover from a rival's embraces, La Voisin furnished a more powerful mixture of secret ingredients that would dispose of the rival personally and permanently. This was politely termed an "inheritance powder," because it could also be used to shorten the remaining days of wealthy, elderly relatives.

To condition the noble clients to their parts as poisoners and insure their silence as well, they were initiated into the Black Mass by the renegade Abbe Guibourg, who followed the pattern that Satanists use today, even invoking the twin devils of lust, Astaroth and Asmodeus, whose names are still on the current list. But to render the ritual effective, the blood and ashes of an unbaptized infant were required, for which eager clients knowingly and willingly paid the price. When the Affaire des Poisons, as it came to be known, was finally brought to light and subjected to exhaustive investigation, it was estimated that La Voisin had disposed of more than 2,500 unwanted infants, though it was not stipulated how many were used for sacrificial purposes.

All this happened after witchcraft persecutions had all but run their course in France, so although the cases came under that head, they were actually a matter for criminal procedure, conducted by a special commission appointed by Louis XIV. Many of the charges against noble ladies were dropped, however, when it turned out that the king's mistress, Madame de Montespan, was deeply involved in the Satanic ceremonies and had even plotted against His Majesty's life. So much of the evidence was suppressed to avoid a court scandal.

The subsequent history of Satanism can be traced at recurrent intervals ever since, and it has left an unsavory heritage in its wake. Its recent revival may indeed be innocuous in itself, if kept within the confines of what may be its one and only "church." But according to reports, it has been spreading to the hinterlands; and it is a significant fact that the leader of a blood cult charged with mass murder and mayhem was practically worshipped as "Satan" by his obedient but deluded followers.