[Adapted from a talk given in Salem MA]

It may surprise you to know that while some might have to study arcane books to learn the ways of magic, many centuries ago in England, it was common knowledge. No one had to attend class—which was probably for the best, as most people couldn’t read English anyway and most books were written in Latin, which only the educated could read. Most of the magical charms we have from early medieval England were probably kept circulating through word of mouth, until they were finally written down by monks many years later.

While we tend to think of England as a fairly settled place with the kind of long standing traditions, in the Middle Ages was a real melting pot of different cultures, some of which clashed violently. In the earliest times Celtic tribes came from the continent to the green hills of England (not to mention Wales, Ireland and Scotland). When the Romans decided to make the island nation a part of their growing empire, they had some trouble subduing the Celtic Britons, to say nothing of the Picts. The emperor Hadrian finally built a wall in the north to try to contain the troublesome inhabitants of Scotland. When the Roman troops left Britain as the empire crumbled, they left a power vacuum which the Romanized Britons feared would invite aggression from their nearby foes. They invited mercenary troops from the continent: Angles, Saxons and Jutes. The only problem was that the mercenaries liked things so much in the green and pleasant land that they stayed—and forever changed the dominant language to a Germanic tongue we inherited. We’ll ignore for the moment what happened when the Vikings decided to visit, too.

By the time these poetic charms are being written down, ‘England’ is a mostly Germanic-speaking land of various kingdoms with a healthy population of Celtic folks, fighting off Vikings and often one another. The one constant was magic. The charms of this England consisted of words, herbs and actions. The people at this time believed that words had a magic of their own especially when spoken aloud, but that the application of the right herbs would help the healing processes along, too. Sometimes other actions were required to create the right atmosphere or to move bad luck along to someone else. Used in conjunction the result was simply magic.

Medieval people used magic for many different reasons. Among the most common uses was, of course, for healing. Lacking any kind of organized medical care system, they pieced together charms and poultices to take care of the common health problems. But they also used charms to
protect, both themselves and their belongings. Chief amongst their property was cattle. The
Old English word for ‘cattle’ (fe) was the same as the word for “wealth” so you can imagine how important cattle were. Charms also came in handy to enhance good luck and increase one’s bounty.

By far, the largest group of charms are those which deal with healing. There were several steps involved in conjuring a successful charm. First it was necessary to figure out who the culprit was behind the illness or injury. One of the best ways to determine the creature causing the harm was to catalogue the symptoms that the patient suffered. Once the cause was identified, one would have to go out and gather the necessary materials, which could take anywhere from hours to days (and even months!). When everything was prepared, the conjuror had to carefully recite the charm—pronunciation counts. Sometimes before, after or even during the recitation of the charm, it was necessary to perform other actions as well both inside and outside in all kinds of weather.

Common Culprits: medieval people saw disease as the result of the invasion of small creatures or their weapons. While this may seem at first to be charmingly naïve, it’s really not so different from our understanding of the causes of disease, such as microscopic viruses or bacteria. Metaphorically, they understood the basic process, as well as the need to drive out the causes. Of course they believed these creatures to be things like elves, which might be good or evil. The charms, however, only deal with the bad elves who shot their arrows or darts into both people and cattle and caused swelling and illness. Water elves could also cause fevers. A similar creature was a wen, who caused a swelling, and had to be lured away to another location. ‘Worms’ too were often a danger—and the word could refer to slithery things of any size, from the humble earthworm to the dangerous adder and even the majestic dragon. Needless to say, their poison was the real problem. ‘Dwarves’ was used to describe small creatures reckoned to be no different than elves, and who could say where flying venom might come from (many assumed it was the worms, but who could say for sure?). Witches might be good or bad, but the charms worked against the bad ones who might turn your luck to an unfortunate streak or cause you physical harm. Then there were demons—evil spirits who wished everyone ill. They could infest your home or even your skin. Sometimes no one could be sure of the cause of evil, so there were a number of all-purpose charms against ‘unknown evil.’

Just like doctors and nurses today, the medieval people recognized the importance of symptoms
in determining who was at the root of the problem. Cataloguing the ongoing problems usually led to deducing the creature responsible. Of course not every small village had a physician or barber (who did a lot of the blood letting and surgery in the Middle Ages), so the default choice was the wisest person around. If there was a monastery or abbey nearby, the monks or nuns would be an obvious choice. Otherwise the best choice was usually the oldest person in the village. Most often it was a woman, as even then they tended to live longer than men (if they survived childbirth). Old wise women were probably accustomed to people coming to their doors saying ‘Oh dear, I have a huge lump on my arm! What do you suppose caused this?’ Once accident and injury were ruled out, the symptoms were catalogued carefully. What was the problem? Bleeding, swelling, or fever? Was there a stitch in your side, had you lost appetite or hair? Did you feel the presence of evil in your body or your home? Had a tumor formed in your abdomen or leg? The worst symptom was death, but there was generally little to be done for a patient in that case other than to figure our who inherited his cattle.

Once the culprit was identified it was essential to gather the materials for the charm. In most cases this meant herbs. Potions and poultices were the central part of charm remedies. One needed to remember the properties of all the herbs, the best time for harvesting them, and the extent of the their interactions. Poems like the ‘Nine Herbs Charm’ helped people memorize the properties of the most common healing herbs. In addition to herbs, were bodily fluids like blood and spit and—well, other less charming substances. Breath too proved an important component in charms, representing of course the substance of life itself. The church supplied additional helpful items such as communion wafers and holy water (though some church fathers might have frowned at their use in these charms). More homey materials like milk and honey showed up in charms as well; honey is especially important because it is the basis of mead, the favorite drink of the Middle Ages. Mead itself—along with wine and ale—provided a better tasting concoction with which to drink down the herbs. Of course if the herbs were made into a poultice or salve, you would need oil or wax to bind the materials together. Naturally, you would need bowls and other utensils to mix all the items together, and sometimes bandages to apply the mixture.

Once you gathered all the materials and chose the time, it was important to sing the charm absolutely correctly. The word for this is galdor which means to recite and to chant and to sing. You had to sing the words loud and clear—and accurately—if the magic was going to work. The words addressed the creature to be affected. In the case of the wen, you’d call out ‘wen, wen, wenchichenne’ (wen, wen, little wen). In the fertility charm Æcerbot however, you address the earth herself:

Repetition is important too; you might need to repeat a charm three times or maybe nine. Many of the charms include Latin or Greek words too, or words that sort of looked like them (or Irish) or may have been Latin or Greek at one time, but became gradually gibberish (and we can’t help wondering about their effectiveness by that point). And all this had to be memorized! You might read a charm in a book, but you had to memorize it to chant over the wound or the field (or cow or whatnot). The monks didn’t want those expensive books wandering too far from the monastic library.

Other actions included things as diverse as tossing, sprinkling, drinking or bandaging the concoction, or digging into the earth to leave the potion. But you might also have to do things like jump over a grave or a running stream (to leave bad luck or ill health behind). In more complicated charms, you might have to draw a circle or diagram and fill it with letters in anagram. You might also need to stop by the local parish church for a blessing of the elements. For some charms, you have to give something away, either symbolic (like seeds) or actual if you want to get some bad luck far from your home. With luck, healing can begin at once, but usually some time might pass before results occur.

Charms for protecting and enhancing took similar forms. Among the most common were journey charms. Imagine the times before paved roads and night lighting—journeys were a dangerous thing were you might encounter wild animals, thieves or natural disasters. Best to make a charm upon your walking stick before you ever set out. Whether on the road or at home, why not make a charm against all evils? You just never know. Considering the importance of cattle, it’s not at all surprising to hear that there were a number of charms against the loss of cattle—and charms to bedevil thieves until they returned what they had stolen. For women, childbirth charms were a big part of life. Some helped them recover from stillbirths—others eased the pain of the process itself or offered prognostications of the child’s sex.

One of the more unexpected charms was the one for a swarm of bees. While you might think it would be a protective charm against the angry insects, the opposite was true. The charm addresses the leader of the swarm as a sigewif, or victory woman (think Xena) and tries to calm her down. The
medieval people didn’t want their bees to leave, but to stay and produce lots of honey, the better make more mead. Life in the medieval world was one fraught with danger (much like now), but with a few herbs and some well-chosen words, it was possible to triumph over adversity.

©2005 K. A. Laity