That Old White Magic - Norman Gills

You might find this of interest, it is a newspaper article written in the early 1970's about Norman Gills (he was one of the people that Robert Cochrane was in contact with), it's title was "That old White Magic".

The other day I called on a witch who lives in a tumbledown cottage in the middle of a busy shopping centres.

Unless you knew it was there you'd probably walk straight past the tiny stone cottage, mellowed with age, for it's the last thing you expect to find in this bustling thoroughfare of shops and modern buildings.

It stands behind a tidy, evergreen hedge and rickety wooden gate. Bright red flowers in the downstairs window immediately catch the

eye. You wonder what it looks like inside, but it's impossible to see

in. The plants, reaching for the sunlight, have completely covered the glass.

A notice on the door says, "Knock loudly". You step inside and at once get the feeling that you have walked into another world. The traffic pounding by outside is forgotten, the noise fades, a strange quiet descends. The rooms are small and dim. The furniture is dark and old. And at the end of the low narrow corridor, hung with pictures, you catch a glimpse of a garden beyond. It looks wild and

overgrown.

The casual passer-by may not notice the cottage, but there are many

people who do know it's there, for Norman gets letters from all over

the world. They stand in piles on a table in his 'workroom' at the top of the stairs.

Norman is a witch- though he prefers to be called a member of the Old Religion. He doesn't like the word witch. He thinks it 'has been

misused. The popular belief that witches are worshippers of the devil, lovers of orgies and casters of bad spells have given the craft a bad name he feels.

"It was a word created in the Middle Ages when the two sides - Christendom and witchcraft - were at each other's throats." And in

any case he belongs to the old tradition of witchcraft when all the members were true craftsmen.

He doesn't have a lot of time for "these modern witches," many of whom he feels enter the craft for the wrong reasons. "They are gimmicky people," he says. "They become witches because it's fashionable at the moment or because they think they'll get some kick out it. They have their own methods - dancing in the nude and then seeking publicity to shock as much as they can. And they don't

get the rigid training we had. So how much power have they? A witch has to substantiate his powers with proof."

Norman has been a member of the old religion since he was very young. "Everyone tried to make me a Christian," he says. "But I was always very nervous and scared of it. And there was all that hellfire teaching when I was a child. So when I was about eight years old I got hold of everything I could on the occult and studied by myself."

He began to meet members of the craft - old shepherds and gypsies around the Cotswold's. "I listened, picked up a lot and realised that I had been born with a great number of the gifts."

His ancestors, although none were actually members of the craft, were all crafty people - artists, engravers, woodcarvers. And Norman has always painted - the cottage is full of his canvasses.

In his twenties he joined one or two underground covens but not all the activities "suited" him. Essentially he is a loner, preferring to work on his own. Today he teaches witchcraft. His `workroom,' a back bedroom which overlooks the garden, has a slightly eerie atmosphere. The bookcase is packed tight with literature on myths and magic.

The tables are stacked high with strange looking objects - a witch doctor's staff, a pile of swords, a hazel twig water-diviner, Tarot cards, a real crystal ball, a golden fair- ground ball, a cauldron- "Not much used nowadays because people don't like working outside," – painted candles, faded feathers, pestle and mortars for grinding herbs, stones and fossils used in psychometric and a bed for teaching self hypnosis.

They seem a bizarre contrast to the television set painted landscapes and brightly coloured gnomes that he makes for people's gardens.

He showed me photographs he had taken of fairies "using olden day methods of summoning and photography." Goblin-tike faces peered out of tall grass, but I could only make them out after I had been give a helpful drawing to show me what they should look like.

It`s rather a strange experience talking to a witch about witchcraft. As a total outsider there is so much one doesn't understand and it would take hours of patient teaching and listening to grasp even the

fundamental details. And yet one has so many pre- conceived ideas.

"There's much more to it than dancing, round in a circle and practicing magic" he laughs. We have a completely different set of moral values for a start Women are equal in the craft, if not more than equal. The high priestess always comes first. I suppose you could call it a matriarchal society. Women can make advances and take the lead. If women's lib was to advance 50 years they would be about where we are now!"

Because their beliefs have always caused controversy the crafts that

are so much a part of' their original way of life are usually forgotten. But there is one craft that Norman is an acknowledged authority on – herbs. He's been growing them since he was five years old. His garden which I first thought looked wild and overgrown is in fact a mini-jungle of herbs and flowers of count- less varieties. With great pride he takes you round crushing the leaf or flower to bring out the sweet scents. Soon my hands were full and the smell lingered for hours afterwards.

Some of the herbs were familiar in name though I'd never seen them growing, others I'd never heard of - Virginian Poke Vervain Mullin (witch's candlewick), belladonna, old woman, old man, cotton lavender angelica, hawthorn, mare's tail balm of Gilead, valerian lovage - all growing on top of one another in big bushes or tiny clusters. There are so many that even Norman is sometimes surprised when he stumbles across one he had momentarily forgotten was there.

He can talk for hours about his herbs and their medicinal purposes`"I grow those that are difficult to find wild nowadays," he says, "Most of them I've collected from the countryside. At one time when I was young there were herb farms, but they don't exist now."

He thinks there are still branches of folk medicine that are applicable today."Members of the old religion used herbs because they had no other remedies. Many have been lost, but we still have a lot. I've cured myself of a bad touch of gastroenteritis with cotton lavender And I still like to use iodine - from seaweed - for cuts and bruises: And there's nothing like rose hips from the wild dog rose for indigestion and stomach troubles. I know they give it to children, but it's very good for adults too."

Growing things comes so naturally to Norman that he's never really thought about it. "I think it s more than just green fingers though," he says. "You must have a natural love of growing things."

He's even had a go at evolving new plants. One is a flat-topped delphinium. The other a new kind of apple. Sadly, the latter wasn't accepted. "One board said they didn't consider it superseded existing varieties and another said they didn't t want a dual purpose apple. It was a cooker and an eater you see."

I had to ask the obvious questions. Can he magic warts away? He laughed. "There are lots of methods. At this time of the year you'll find some people rubbing them with the inside of a broad bean and then throwing it up the chimney. But the one I've used quite successfully is to rub the wart with a snail and them impale the snail on a hawthorn. When it rots so does the wart."

And where was his steeple hat. "Oh we don't wear those nowadays,

they're far too much trouble."

Suddenly I was back in the roaring, traffic again.

Originally from 'The Oxford Times'

The West British Elven System - Pennick

The West British Elven magical system

The Elven System is the underlying principle of a hereditary tradition practised in Wales and the west of England. It was revealed publicly by Dr David B. Shirt in 1988...

The Elven System is described by a diagram which depicts the seven aspects of being, each ruled by an Elven power. This power is called a 'Lord', but it has both female and male aspects. The diagram is an equilateral triangle within a square. A line cuts both square and triangle in two. The four corners of the square represent the four rulers of the elements. These elements are the Light, the Rocks, the Waters and the Airs. They are ruled by the Sun, the Earth, the Moon and the Stars respectively. Fire and Ice are not elements in the Elven System. They are considered to be the destructive aspects of Earth and Water respectively. The outer square of the elements is orientated with its corners towards the cardinal directions. Light is located in the East, the Rocks in the South, Waters in the West and Airs in the North. The triangle represents the three Lords of Life. 

At the apex, towards the North-East, is Oberon. He is the High Lord of Elves and Humans who appears in William Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream. The other two angles of the triangle are dedicated to the Lords of animals and plants, respectively, although no names are given in what remains to us of the Elven system. Unlike the female/male aspects of the other six 'Lords', Oberon is 'complete' (i.e. Androgynous). The full complement of Elven powers is thus 13.

The line which cuts both square and triangle is the 'horizon'. It runs from North-West to South-East. Above the horizon, to the North- East of the line, is the light and airy spiritual world. Below the horizon, to the South-West of the line, is the damp and earthy physical world.

From "Secret of the Runes" by Nigel Pennick

James 'Cunning' Murrell - Jackdaw

James ‘Cunning’ Murrell: The white witch of Hadliegh

By JackDaw.. 1992

James Murrell was born the seventh son of a seventh son, a statistic that in the past was thought to be of great magickal importance, at Rochford in 1780. The Rochford Hundred, an area of Southeast Essex is often referred to as “The Witch Country” due to it’s numerous and famous male and female witches. Of all his brothers and sisters he was the only one to receive an education.

Before becoming a “ Cunning-man” he was apprenticed for a time as surveyor but later also worked as a chemist’s still man in London. In about 1812 he set himself up as a shoemaker in Hadleigh, Essex, until he came into contact with a witch/wizard called Neboad. From Neboad Murrell received teaching in the magickal arts and a book of magick and conjurations. At first it seems that Murrell was rather cynical of magickal powers, but this soon changed. After a performing a few rituals to help people to his surprise he found that they worked. Eventually he gave up shoemaking in order to work full time, as a Cunning-man and soon became known as the Cunning-man of Hadleigh. He married and fathered 20 children.

Cunning Murrell lived in a small weatherboard cottage set in a narrow lane facing the south door of Hadleigh Church. From this cottage Murrell worked his Magick and it was to this place that people came for his help. But often after much deliberation, as the services of this great magickian were never to be engaged lightly, often folk would linger for some time before knocking at his door. When the door opened they would be greeted by a small man with piercing green eyes and a ruddy complexion. He often wore a bob tailed coat and is said to have had the aura of a great authority.  In fact Murrell’s reputation as a Cunning-man was unequalled. Not only local people but also wealthy and aristocratic clients from outside the area would seek him out, at the height of his fame Hadliegh post office received three time as much mail for Murrell as it did for the whole of the rest of the village. He possessed an immense knowledge of herbal remedies, wort cunning, magick and astrology. He owned a number of hand written Grimoires as well as books on astrology, herbalism and magick including The Magus by Frances Barrett.

The cottage front room in which Murrell held his consultations had bunches of drying herbs hanging from the ceiling. In one corner was his chest (now held by the central museum at southend) in which he kept his magickal books and papers. On a table could be seen a magickal knife a human skull and various other magickal implements. Next to the fire stood a large brass telescope and next to this a high back chair in which the Cunning-man would sit.

He normally charged no more than a shilling for his services and often he was content with sixpence or whatever the person could afford. But if asked to summon forces from the other world he generally demanded half a crown.

He always asked if their problem was “high” or “low” by which he meant, did they require magickal or material help. The material help normally came in the form of a herbal cure, if magickal then Murrell would set about raising good spirits or “good angels” as he would describe them, These would then be set the task of combating the ones that were responsible for the trouble. When he wished to trace lost property he used a magick looking glass. First he would charm its surface and then ask the person who had lost the item in question to look into the mirror. After the mists had cleared they were said to be able to see where the item was and/or who had stolen it. He is also known to have used a pail of water into which he poured a strange black liquid to trace a long lost husband. In it she said her husband’s ship sinking during a great storm. No official word of her husband’s fate ever came but she knew.

Cunning Murrell was also a renowned astrologer and was said to be able to predict events years ahead.

He had great skill in the treatment of animals, normally applying conventional treatment but always with a short magickal ritual. But he sometimes cured sick cows and horses by the mere act of laying on of hands.

When he travelled, often great distances, it was always at night. Frequently he was asked to exorcise someone. If he suspected that the victim was bewitched then he would prepare one of his famous witch bottles. This was a concoction comprising the urine of the bewitched, together with herbs and pins, these were put into an iron bottle, which he had made for him by the local blacksmith, and heated on a fire. The room would be in total darkness, and the doors locked, the family instructed to maintain a strict silence for if not, the counter spell would be broken. Soon footsteps would be heard outside, often followed by furious knocking. Sometimes the voice of the ill-wisher could be heard crying out for them to stop.

Cunning Murrell was believed to be the master of witches because it is said he possessed the power to compel any other witch to submit to his will. He is said to have once engaged in a contest with another witch from Canewdon, a local village. To demonstrate the superiority of his power over hers he commanded her to die and then and there she fell down dead.

As Murrell grew old he withdrew from providing magickal help a little although he always had time for those in dire need. Near the end of 1860 Murrell was taken ill. He asked for a pen and paper, and calculated that he would die on the 16th of December and calmly awaited the end. His last hours were disturbed by the frantic efforts of the local vicar trying to administer the last rites. At last Murrell could stand it no longer, and fixing his piercing eyes on him, he roared “ I am the Devil’s master”- and with this the vicar ran from the room. So died James ‘Cunning’ Murrell on of the greatest cunning men of English witch mythology.

After his death his landlord buried the chest of magickal books in the garden of the cottage. But one of Murrell’s sons, Buck Murrell immediately dug it up again. The contents survived until 1956, when most papers and letters were destroyed because they were thought to be worthless. Thankfully the novelist Arthur Morrison, has left us a description of the contents of the chest. There were books on astronomy and astrology, old medical books, a culpepper’s annotated in the wizard’s own hand, and other books dealing with conjuration and geomancy.  One of these books, the book given to Murrell by Neboad was said to be over three hundred years old. This book is said to be still in existence secretly stored somewhere near the village of Hadliegh.

Originaly published in the Golden Dawn supplement 1992 or 3

Wild Edric, Lady Goda & the Stiperstones - Howard

WILD EDRIC, LADY GODA & THE STIPERSTONES

Michael Howard

  In this article I would like to discuss the Stiperstones in Shropshire and their attendant lore.

Shropshire is on the Welsh Border with England and its largely unspoilt landscape includes hills, moorland and woods and forests. The prominent hills include Wenlock Edge, the Stretton, Long Mynd, the Clee and the Stiperstones. Because of its rock formations the county has become a favoured hunting-ground for geologists, especially because of the fault line that runs in the Earth’s crust west of Craven Arms, past Church Stretton to Cressage on the River Severn. The rocks in Shropshire are said to be some of the oldest in the British Isles, dating as they do from the pre-Cambrian period, and include volcanic lava, slate, flagstone, limestone and red sandstone.

   Historically there is little evidence for human habitation in what is now Shropshire before the Iron Age. This is possibly due to the fact that the terrain is so hilly and was covered in prehistoric times in thick forest and swamps. However the Iron Age people did manage to clear the woodland enough to build hill forts and settlements. During the Roman period the occupiers also built forts and towns in the area and opened up lead mines in the vicinity of the Stiperstones. When the legions departed at the beginning of the fifth-century CE Welsh tribes moved east to loot and destroy Roman towns like Viroconium near the modern Shrewsbury.

  In the eight-century King Offa of Mercia extended his realm westwards and constructed his famous dyke to keep the Welsh hordes at bay. It is possible this impressive defensive earthwork had already been in existence and was only refortified by the king whose name it now bears. With the Norman Conquest in the late eleventh-century the Welsh Border became a flashpoint for English resistance against the invaders, as we shall see later in the story of Wild Edric.

  During the civil war in the twelfth century between King Stephen and his rival for the throne, his sister the self-styled Empress Matilda, the Shropshire town of Ludlow with its castle was the site of a major battle when one hundred rebels were captured and executed. Four hundred years later Ludlow Castle featured in another civil war when it was the last royalist stronghold in the county to surrender to the dictator Oliver Cromwell. Two hundred years ago Shropshire was the cradle of the Industrial Revolution with its pioneering factories around Ironbridge and the Severn Gorge area.

  The Stiperstones near Pontesbury are a ridge of stony outcrops some 1700 feet above sea level. It consists of serrated ridges and ledges of rock that have been eroded and broken up by the weather over thousands if not millions of years. The highest point of the hill is a large crag popularly called the Devil’s Chair because of its shape. According to a legend it was created by the Old One when he travelled from Ireland. For some unknown reason he was carrying several large stones around his waist in an apron. He sat down on the Stiperstones to rest and when he got up the apron strings broke and the stones were scattered on the ground. Where he rested became known as the Devil’s Chair. The story is a classic example of how natural features in the landscape where often named after the activities of Old Hornie.

   Near to the Stiperstones is the village of Pontesbury. It is in the shadow of Pontesford Hill and Earl’s Hill (possibly named after Edric) and each has the remains of fortified earthworks or hill forts. These are probably of Iron Age origin, although the hills were also the site of a seventh-century battle recorded in the famous Anglo-Saxon Chronicle between the Mercians and the West Saxons. On Palm Sunday local people used to climb up Pontesford Hill to look for the so-called ‘golden arrow’. This magical object was supposed to have once belonged to a faery or an ancient king and had been lost for centuries. The legend said that it could only be found by the rightful heir of the king or by a virgin seventh daughter of a seventh son.

  Following the Norman invasion William the Conqueror consolidated his power and authority by seizing land from the Anglo-Saxon aristocracy and landowners and handing it out as gifts to his own nobles. Most of Shropshire fell into the hands of William’s kinsman and friend Roger de Montgomery. He set up his county headquarters in Shrewsbury and ordered the building of a castle to both intimidate and subdue the natives and use as his main residence. Roger was described by friend and foe alike as ‘a just man but severe.’

  His forced requisition of land in Shropshire did not go down well and resistance to Norman rule on the Welsh Border came from a band of Welsh and Anglo-Saxon rebels led by a local earl, popularly known as Edric Sylvaticus or Edric the Wild. Whether this nickname came from his temperament or his love of the outdoors and hunting is not known. He had been robbed of his ancestral lands by the incoming Norman lord and wanted them back.

   Although Edric and his rebel army managed successfully to besiege Shrewsbury and burnt  down Roger de Montgomery’s half finished fortifications, his campaign against the Normans eventually ended in failure. In fact the earl was forced to sue for peace with King William. As a result he was denounced by his fellow freedom fighters as a traitor who had betrayed their cause. It was said that Edric even fought alongside the king against the Scots. In later life Edric apparently made the mistake of supporting the Mortimer rebellion and ended his days in prison.

   These are the historical facts about Wild Edric but in 1180 the historian Walter Map wrote a life of the earl containing a story that transformed him into almost a mythological figure. Map says that Earl Edric frequently went hunting in the Forest of Clun near his home. In medieval times this was a wild, heavily wooded area in the south-west of Shropshire between Montgomeryshire (evidently named after the Norman lord) and Radnorshire. Its few inhabitants were a mixture of Anglo-Saxons and Welsh peasants and in the early days of the Norman occupation it was a semi-independent and lawless area. The forest was renowned for its herds of red deer and was an ideal hunting ground.

  One day Wild Edric was out hunting in the forest and it became late. As the daylight was fading fast the earl ordered his hunting companions to return home. He told them he would tarry a little longer in the hope of killing more game. As he rode through the trees, at the magically liminal time of dusk when the veil between the worlds is thin, Edric heard the sound of strange music in the distance. He came to a large clearing and in the middle of it was a thatched cottage with bright lights shining from its windows.

  Perhaps hoping he could obtain shelter for the night, Edric got off his horse and approached the dwelling. Looking through one of the windows he saw six of the most beautiful women he had ever encountered dancing to the sound of invisible musicians. In their centre stood a seventh woman who was even more beautiful then the dancers. She quite literally took the nobleman’s breath away.

  As far as Edric was concerned it was lust at first sight and in true aristocratic fashion he decided he must have the woman. Blinded by desire the earl smashed down the door of the cottage and seized her. It was then he realised something was not quite right as the dancing women immediately shapeshifted into wolves and attacked him. Edric managed to keep them at bay with his broadsword while he threw his captive over his saddle and galloped back at high speed to his manor house with his prize.

  At first the mysterious woman would not speak to Edric and she ignored him. She also refused to eat and drink what was offered to her by his servants. After several days had passed and the earl was beginning to despair the woman finally spoke. She said she had been watching and observing Edric carefully. As a result she had concluded he was a worthy man despite his violent action in kidnapping her. Because of this she would agree to marry him. However she had a secret to tell the earl and that secret was that her name was Godda and she was the queen of the faeries. She further told the astonished Edric that she would share his bed and pretend to be his human wife providing he allowed her to occasionally visit her sisters in the forest and never spoke of her elven origins. Edric was so besotted with Godda that he happily agreed to her conditions.

  The couple were duly married and lived happily together, even producing a halfling son who was both human and faery. Earl Edric made his peace with Edric and the couple attended court as husband and wife without anyone realising their secret, although people did comment on Lady Godda’s unearthly beauty and unnatural charm. All was going well when one morning Godda was late for breakfast. When she eventually turned up Edric said sarcastically: “Where have you been my wife? Was it your faery sisters who kept you from me?” Almost as soon as the fateful words had left his mouth Edric regretted them for he realised he had broken the taboo. Godda turned on her heel and left the room without speaking and returned to her faery kin in the wildwood.

  Edric was heartbroken at his loss and pined for his faery lover. He spent days searching for the cottage in the Clun forest but never found it again. According to the legend, even after his death Wild Edric had no peace as he was doomed to ride the Shropshire hills for eternity because he had betrayed his people by submitting to the Norman king. His only consolation was that after death he was reconciled with his faery bride and they rode together as the local leaders of the Wild Hunt.

  In common with another Wild Hunter, Herne, who haunts Windsor Forest (now the Royal Windsor Park), Wild Edric is often seen at times of national crisis or disaster. A local story says that just before the Crimean War in the 1850s a man and his daughter out walking near Minsterley encountered the Wild Host. The father told his daughter to cover her face with her hands as it went by or they would take her away to join them. As she was a naughty and curious girl she disobeyed and peeped through her fingers as the faery riders went by.

  The girl saw that the elven company was led by a tall man riding a white horse. He had short, dark and curly hair and “very bright black eyes”. He was wearing a green cap with a white feather tucked in its brim, a green medieval-type tunic and a long green cloak. From the rider’s belt hung a sword and a hunting horn. By his side rode a very beautiful woman with long golden hair that fell to her waist. Around her forehead was bound a band of white linen with a gold ornament attached to it. She was wearing a long green dress and had a small dagger tucked into her golden belt. The father later told his daughter he had seen Lord Edric and Lady Godda when he was a child. That was fifty years before at the start of the Napoleonic Wars.

  Godda or Goda is one of the names associated with the ancient Germanic goddess of winter, darkness and death Dame Holda. A sixteenth-century manuscript describes Holda as the female leader of the Wild Hunt and says: ’The Wild Host, very strange figures, horned, beaked, tailed, roaring and shouting, behind, on a black wild steed, Frau Hold, blowing into the hunting horn, swinging the cracking whip, her head-hair shaking about wildly, like a true wonder-outrage.’.

  The Central European goddess who leads the Wild Hunt traditionally stole the souls of unbaptized children and forced them to join her nocturnal ride. During the liminal Twelve Days of Yule around the winter solstice Holda also punished naughty children and anyone who neglected to leave out gifts or offerings for her. Any woman who dared spin or weave during this transitional period at the turning of the year also incurred the goddess’ wrath. This connects Holda with the traditional witch-goddess Fate who spins and weaves the Web of Wyrd or human destiny.

  In the last fifty years the Stiperstones in Shropshire have been used by two modern groups associated with traditional witchcraft. One of these was Robert Cochrane’s covine in the 1960s and its more popularised offshoot The Regency. Cochrane clearly had a psychic and spiritual link with the site and its legend of the Wild Hunt. In one of his letters to his American correspondent Joe Wilson Cochrane clearly said that ‘the People [traditional witches] are formed in Clans and families and they describe themselves by the local name of the Deity. I am a member of the People of Goda – of the Clan of Tubal Cain’. In this declaration there is no ambiguity that Cochrane is referring to the goddess Goda/Holda and his spiritual kinship to her. This also explains why Cochrane and the two members of his covine who founded The Regency, Ronald ‘Chalky’ White and George Stannard Winter, used the Stiperstones. In fact White and Winter both retired from London to Shropshire and they died there not that far from their famous working site.