An ABC of Witchcraft Past and Present - Doreen Valiente 2018

Flying Ointments

One of the traditional capabilities of the legendary witch is the capacity to fly, upon a staff, a broomstick, the back of a demon goat or some similar fantastic means of transport. There were not even wanting eye-witnesses, in past centuries, who claimed to have seen such diabolical flights of witches, riding the air on moonlight nights.

Very early on, however, it was realised by serious writers that the truth behind the stories of ’flying witches’ lay in mysterious potions and trance-inducing ointments they used.

Francis Bacon wrote: “The ointment that Witches use, is reported to be made of the fat of children digged out of their graves; of the juices of Smallage, Wolfe-Bane, and Cinque-Foil, mingled with the meal of fine wheat; but I suppose the soporiferous medicines are likest to do it, which are Hen-bane, Hemlock, Mandrake, Moonshade, or rather Night-shade, Tobacco, Opium, Saffron, Poplar-leaves, etc.”

In The Book of the Sacred Magic of Abramelin the Mage, written by Abraham the Jew for his son Lamech and dated 1458 (translated by S. L. MacGregor Mathers, the De Laurence Company Inc., Chicago, 1948), there is a noteworthy description of Abraham’s experience with a young witch of Linz in Austria. Abraham had travelled extensively in search of magic, until he eventually met the Mage Abramelin, whose teachings he describes in the book; but before he encountered this adept he had had varied experiences with a number of other exponents of the magical arts, of whom this woman was one.

She gave him an unguent, with which he rubbed the principal pulses of his feet and hands, and the witch herself did likewise. Then it seemed to Abraham that he was flying in the air, and that he arrived in the place where he had wished to be, but which he had not indicated to the woman in any way.

Unfortunately, he does not tell us what the unguent was made of; nor will he describe what he saw, save that it was “admirable”. He seemed to be in the trance or out-of-the-body state for some time; and when he awoke, he had pain in the head and a feeling of melancholy. The witch then recounted to him what she had seen on her own ’flight’; but it was quite different from Abraham’s experience.

He was, he says, much astonished; because he felt as if he had been “really and corporeally” in the place he saw in his vision. He wished to make further experiments with the properties of this unguent; so on another occasion he asked the woman if she would go and seek news of a friend of his, at a place he named, while he remained beside her and watched.

She agreed, and proceeded to anoint herself with the unguent; whereat Abraham watched expectantly to see if she would actually fly away. Instead, she fell to the ground and lay there for three hours, as if she were dead. Abraham began to fear that she was really dead; but eventually she regained consciousness and told him what she had seen. However, her account, according to Abraham, did not correspond with what he knew of his friend; so he concluded that it was simply a fantastic dream, induced by the magical unguent. She confessed to Abraham that this unguent had been given to her by “the Devil”; and Abraham, who was a very pious man, would work no further with her.

It is curious to note how present-day users of drugs, such as L.S.D., speak of their experiences as ’taking a trip’, ’getting high’ and so on; expressions which are reminiscent of the idea of witches’ ’flights’ while under the influence of hallucinogens.

One of the earliest writers to make a detailed and reasoned study of this matter of witches’ unguents was Giovanni Battista Porta, a Neapolitan, the author of Magia Naturalis or Natural Magic. This book was first called De Miraculis Rerum Naturalium and appeared at Antwerp in 1560. It had a section entitled Lamiarum Unguenta, or “Witches’ Unguents”; but this was omitted from a later edition, which had been expurgated by a Dominican monk. However, the book made a big impression in its time, and was translated into French and English. Various editions exist, and one of these came into the hands of Reginald Scot, who was influenced by it in the writing of his Discoverie of Witchcraft (1584).

This sceptical, free-thinking book ridiculed the standard charges brought against witches, and so annoyed the witch-hunting King James I that he ordered it to be publicly burnt by the common hangman. Scot exposed the nonsense of witches being able to fly literally through the air, and revealed Porta’s recipes for the witches’ unguent, or witches’ salve, as it was sometimes called.

Porta wrote in Latin, the common language of learned men of that time; and herewith (according to Montague Summers), is the actual Latin of his recipes:

“Puerorum pinguedinem ahaeno vase decoquendo ex aqua capiunt, inspissando quod ex elixatione ultimum, novissimumque subsidet, inde condunt, continuoque inserviunt usui: cum hac immiscent eleoselinum, aconitum, frondes populneas, et fuliginem.

“Vel aliter sic: Sium, acorum vulgare, pentaphyllon, vespertilionis sanguinem, solanum somniferum, et oleum.”

Montague Summers in his book, The Werewolf (Kegan Paul, London’ 1933), has a very interesting chapter on witch ointments; to which he attributes the phenomena, or alleged phenomena, of lycanthropy, as well as the traditional flying. He tells us that Jean Wier, in his De Lamiis, Of Witches, quotes Porta’s recipes; and these are evidently the ones discussed in the appendix to Margaret Murray’s Witch Cult in Western Europe.

Summers also gives us the recipe for a witch unguent quoted by Jerome Cardan in his De Subtilitate, and also discussed in the appendix mentioned above:

“Constat ut creditur puerorum pinguedine e sepulchris eruta, succisque apii, acontique tum pentaphylli siligineque.” (Sic).

Now, it is evident that much depends upon the accurate translation of these Latin texts; and the writer would venture to query some of the translations which have been made of them.

Reginald Scot, in his Discoverie of Witchcraft (1584), renders Porta’s recipes thus:

The receipt is as followeth:

The fat of young children, and seeth it with water in a brazen vessel, reserving the thickest of that which remaineth boiled in the bottom, which they lay up and keep, until occasion serveth to use it. They put hereunto Eleoselinum, Aconitum, Frondes populeas, and Soot.

Another receipt to the same purpose:

Sium, acarum vulgare, pentaphyllon, the blood of a flittermouse, solanum somniferum, and oleum. They stamp all these together, and then they rub all parts of their bodies exceedingly, till they look red, and be very hot, so as the pores may be opened, and their flesh soluble and loose. They join herewith either fat, or oil instead thereof, that the force of the ointment may the rather pierce inwardly, and so be more effectual. By this means (saith he) in a moonlight night they seem to be carried in the air, to feasting, singing, dancing, kissing, culling and other acts of venery, with such youths as they love and desire most.

“Aconitum” is aconite, otherwise called wolf’s bane; “frondes populeas” are poplar leaves; “acarum vulgare” is probably sweet flag (Acorus calamus), an aromatic herb; “pentaphyllon” is cinquefoil; “oleum” is oil. “Flittermouse” is an old name for a bat. These are the ingredients whose meanings we can be reasonably certain about; but the rest present something of a problem.

The matter is further complicated by the fact that, in the reprint of Reginald Scot’s book which appeared in 1886, published by Elliot Stock, a section of “explanatory notes” translates Eleoselinum as “mountain parsley”. (Selinum is a Latin form of the Greek selinon, parsley.) It also gives Sium as “yellow watercress”, and Acarum vulgare as “our Asarum europaeum”, which is not sweet flag at all, but another plant called asarabacca.

The young leaves and buds of the poplar were long used by old-time apothecaries to make an ointment called unguentum populeum, which had soothing properties for inflammation and wounds. “Solanum somniferum” could mean several of the Solanaceae; henbane, thornapple, belladonna or black nightshade (all of which, incidentally, are very poisonous plants, and so also is aconite).

Montague Summers translates “eleoselinum” as hemlock (also extremely poisonous), and “Solanum somniferum” as deadly nightshade, which is the same thing as belladonna.

Of course, the “fat of young children” is simply a touch of the horrific. The most popular foundation for ointments as made by apothecaries was hog’s lard; often with the addition of a little benzoin to make it keep better.

With regard to the second recipe, this consists, according to Montague Summers, of sium or cowbane; acorum vulgare or sweet flag; pentaphyllon or cinquefoil; vespertilionis sanguis or bat’s blood; solanum somniferum or deadly nightshade; and oleum which is oil.

Another doubtful word here is “sium”. If it does mean cowbane, or water hemlock, then this again is an extremely poisonous plant. But does it?

It may be useful to append Jean Wier’s version of these recipes:

“1). Du persil, de l’eau de l’Aconite, des feuilles de Peuple, et de la suye.” (These are the ingredients of the first Porta recipe, which had to be mixed with “the fat of young children”. Professor A. J. Clark seems to have missed the point of this in his appendix to Margaret Murray’s book mentioned above, and describes it as “a watery solution.” The equivalent of “eleoselinum” here is “persil”, which means parsley.)

“2). De la Berle, de l’Acorum vulgaire, de la Quintefeuille, du sang de Chauve-souris, de la Morelle endormante, et de l’huyle.” (This is the second Porta recipe. “La Morelle endormante” certainly looks like a description of deadly nightshade, which has one large, cherry-like fruit. “Berle” means smallage, water-parsley or wild celery (Apium graveolens). This is not cowbane; and its occurrence here leads me to suspect that the first recipe has a misplaced comma that has proved remarkably misleading. I think its real reading is “Du persil de l’eau, de l’Aconite”, etc., which is somewhat different from “parsley and water of aconite”. Smallage is a plant growing in ditches and marshy places; it is acrid, and when bruised has a curious smell. It is one of the ’herbs of the spirit’ used by sorcerers in their fumigations.)

“3). De graisse d’enfant, de suc d’Ache, d’Aconite, de Quintefeuille, de Morelle, et de suye.” (This is the Cardan recipe, with the addition of “Morelle”, probably deadly nightshade. Summers translates it as the fat of children whose bodies have been stolen from their graves, mixed with henbane, aconite, cinquefoil and fine wheaten flour. But “suc d’Ache” is the juice of smallage, not henbane; and the “fine wheaten flour” may well be simply a misreading of siligo, wheat, for fuligo, soot.)

Comparing these different versions one with another, we may hope to come to some conclusions as to what the ingredients of the witches’ salve really were. We can only hope that further investigations will be made by those having the necessary medical and pharmaceutical qualifications to carry them out safely.

I would very strongly caution anyone else from doing so, as most of the substances involved are dangerous and could be fatal. I refer, of course, to the active principles, the herbs mentioned above; the bat’s blood, soot, and children’s fat are merely fantastic ingredients, which could even have been inserted into these recipes as a blind.

Some very interesting and indeed daring research, into the secrets of the witches’ salve, has been done by Dr. Erich-Will Peuckert, of the University of Gottingen, Germany. Using the recipes given by Porta as a base, Dr Peuckert made up an unguent containing thornapple (Datura stramonium), henbane (Hyoscyamus niger), and deadly nightshade (Atropa belladonna). Wild celery (Apium graveolens) and parsley were also included; and the basis for the salve was hog’s lard.

Dr Peuckert wished for confirmation of his results, if any; so he obtained the co-operation of a friend of his, a solicitor who knew nothing about witchcraft or the supposed effects of the witches’ salve, or Unguentum Sabbati as it is sometimes called.

On the night of the experiment, Dr Peuckert and his friend retired to a private room, and applied the unguent to their bodies according to Porta’s directions. They fell into a deep sleep which lasted for twenty hours, and they ultimately awoke with very similar symptoms to those described in the account of Abraham the Jew, given above; symptoms resembling those of a bad hangover.

However, Dr Peuckert and his colleague forced themselves, in the interests of science, to write down an immediate account of what they had each experienced, before discussing it or comparing notes. The result was fantastic beyond the doctor’s expectations.

Not only had each man had wild dreams of all the legendary phantasmagoria of the Sabbat; but the dream-experiences of each had been virtually the same. So strange, weird and erotic were the visions that Dr Peuckert has been understandably reticent in publishing details. He dreamed of flying though the air, of landing on a mountain-top, and of wild orgiastic rites and the appearance of monsters and demons.

The account of his colleague in the experiment tallied with his own in so many particulars, that Dr Peuckert suggests this to be, in fact, the narcotic action of the salve, which automatically induces this kind of vision. Alternatively, it has been suggested that the salve acts by stirring up some particular racial memory, lying deeply buried in the unconscious mind. But memory of what?

It would seem, following the latter theory, that something from the collective unconscious is involved; a field in which the work of Carl Gustav Jung may be relevantly studied, some of his discoveries being in their way quite as strange and thought-provoking as this.

While again emphasising strongly the folly of amateur meddling with these dangerous substances, I feel that this account would be incomplete without the details of another recipe. They are given here, however, solely for the information of qualified researchers. This recipe is one which I am told has been used by a present-day witch in England; but I have no information as to what results it produced. It consists of aconite, poppy juice, fox-glove, poplar leaves, and cinquefoil, in a base of beeswax, lanoline and almond oil.

It is from the eldritch stories of such visionary Sabbats as those induced by the Unguentum Sabbati, that Mussorgsky derived the inspiration for his music entitled Night on the Bare Mountain. Berlioz, too, attempted to describe a witches’ Sabbat in music, in his Symphonie Fantastique. The descriptions of the Sabbat in art, by painters and engravers, are innumerable; but they are almost always that of the Sabbat of narcotic-induced fantasy.