Natural Magic - Doreen Valiente 1998

Magic of the Weather

All of us, even those who are city-dwellers, are linked to nature by the weather. Our moods respond to sunshine and rain, to a cloudy day or a clear, frosty night. We follow the changing seasons of the year, from Christmas to the first breezes of spring, through high summer to autumn mists, Bonfire Night and winter again. Our ancestors used to do this more consciously, because the succession of seasonal festivals made them able to be partakers in the life of nature. They were part of things, they belonged, instead of being lost and alienated.

Such festivals arose from a deep, instinctive feeling of the oneness of all life. This instinct was the foundation of primitive religion and magic, coupled as it was with the idea that life itself flowed from an unseen divine source, from which all things came and to which all would eventually return.

The idea that mystic and occult links somehow interconnected all things in nature, probably gave rise to the practice of sympathetic magic. What was done as a magical ritual, upon a small scale, would be repeated or reflected in the greater world, if the one who performed the ritual had the knowledge to be able to do it aright and the faith that it would succeed.

A particular instance of this kind of magic may be seen in the ceremonies used by witches to make rain. Reginal Scot describes some of these in his book, The Discoverie of Witchcraft (London, 1584); though he treats with scepticism the belief of his contemporaries

that the elements are obedient to witches, and at their commandment; or that they may at their pleasure send rain, hail, tempests, thunder, lightning; when she being but an old doting woman, casteth a flint stone over her left shoulder, towards the west, or hurleth a little sea sand up into the element, or wetteth a broom sprig in water, and spinkleth the same in the air; or diggeth a pit in the earth and putting water therein, stirreth it about with her finger; or boileth hogs’ bristles; or laieth sticks across upon a bank, where never a drop of water is; or burieth sage till it be rotten; all which things are confessed by witches, and affirmed by writers to be the means that witches use to move extraordinary tempests and rain.

Some of these actions are evidently sympathetic magic, especially the sprinkling of water in the air with a sprig of broom. Broom, or Planta genista, is so much associated with witchcraft that it used to be called hagweed, meaning ’witch-weed’. No doubt the sprinkling was accompanied by an invocation to the powers of nature to send rain. The water would have been carried in the witches’ cauldron, or taken from a stream which ran from north to south, because such streams were believed to have magical properties.

The flint stone was cast towards the west, in the direction from which, in the British Isles, rain-bearing winds generally come. The idea was to stir up the influences which send rain. The stirring of water in a pit shows the same idea and so does throwing up sea-sand into the air. Such sand would have a natural affinity with water. The other ritual actions are harder to explain, though the boiling of hogs’ bristles (no doubt in a cauldron in the open air) may be connected with the old belief that pigs can see the wind. Old country people regarded their pigs as being able to foretell the weather for this reason. If the pigs were unusually lively, running and frisking about, it was a sign that high winds were on the way. A change of the wind usually brings a change of the weather.

The climate of the British Isles is so notoriously changeable that it is often said that we do not have a climate at all—we just have weather. Nevertheless, a great deal of old-time spells and weather-magic seems to be devoted to bringing rain rather than sunshine. Perhaps, in the days before our modern piped water supply, this was the greater necessity.

In the British Museum is preserved a copy of a letter which was sent by the Lord Chamberlain, Philip Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, to the High Sheriff of Staffordshire, in the time of Charles I. It is dated 1st August 1636 and states:

His Majesty taking notice of an opinion entertained in Staffordshire, that the burning of fern doth draw down rain, and being desirous that the country and himself may enjoy fair weather as long as he remains in those parts, His Majesty hath commanded me to write unto you, to cause all burning of fern to be forborne, until His Majesty be passed the country.

Morris Dancers as shown in an old stained-glass window

The magical performance which is believed to bring fine weather is that of the Morris Dancers. Their tradition is still very much alive in England today and their dancing is also believed to bring good luck generally to the places where it is performed. For instance, at Shoreham in Sussex the local Morris Men dance through the streets early on May Day morning every year. They carry green branches in their hands, and are accompanied by a ’dragon’, with snapping jaws, who is a great favourite with the children. The Shoreham Herald, reporting on the Shoreham May Day celebrations of 1973, remarked on the large and appreciative audience at the early hour of 6.30 a.m., and noted how once again the event was blessed with fine weather. Perhaps, the reporter suggested, there was something in these old fertility rites after all.

Morris dancing as we know it today dates back at least to the fifteenth century; but it is acknowledged to have its origin in prehistoric ritual. There is nothing airy-fairy about it; on the contrary, it is a very virile performance and needs a high standard of physical fitness and skill in the men who take part. It is essentially a masculine dance, with jingling bells, waving handkerchiefs, the clash of the quarter-staffs (the countryman’s traditional weapon) and lively music on the pipe and tabor.

In the North of England, several variations exist, such as the Sword Dancers and the so-called ’Coconut Dancers’—the ’coconuts’ being a jocular term for small discs of wood fastened to the dancers’ hands, knees and belts. These are rapped together in time to the music, and take the place of the jingling bells worn by Morris Men of the more southern or ’Cotswold’ tradition.

The word ’Morris’ is of uncertain origin. It is thought to be derived from ’Moorish’ and this has led some people to think that the dances were originally brought from Moorish Spain in the days of John of Gaunt. However, it may simply refer to the fact that the dancers often used to blacken their faces in order to preserve their anonymity. Some dancers still do this. It adds an extra touch of mystery to the ritual, rather like the effect of a mask.

We owe a good deal to the late Cecil Sharp for his work in preserving the music and steps of the Morris and other English folk dances. Thanks to him, a revival of interest has taken place this century and in 1934 the Morris Ring of England was formed to keep the good old tradition going.

In his book Ages Not So Dark (Privately printed, 1939), the late J. Foster Forbes mentions the Morris Dance, and says: “As to the origin of the term ’MORRIS’, I have been assured by that admirable Celtic scholar, Dr Leigh Henry, that it relates to ’the motion of the winds’.” Foster Forbes was an unorthodox antiquarian, who sought out all kinds of out-of-the-way knowledge. If this etymology of ’Morris’ is correct, it throws quite a new light on why the dance is associated with bringing fine weather.

The power of witches to raise winds is featured in many old tales, especially from Scotland. The late John Gregorson Campbell was a famous collector of these, taking them down first-hand as they were told by old Scottish people. His book Witchcraft and Second Sight in the Highlands and Islands of Scotland (Glasgow, 1902), tells several stories of witches who had power over the elements, A famous male witch was ’Macpherson of power’ (Mac-Mhuirich nam buadh), who came from South Uist. This man was once on a sailing vessel, on a calm day, when the skipper, knowing his reputation, asked him to raise up a wind. Macpherson called for a gentle east wind. The skipper mocked at it and said it was trifling, Macpherson then called for a stronger wind from the north. It began to blow; but the skipper said, “It does not attain to praise yet.”

Then Macpherson recited a third incantation:

If there be a wind in cold hell,

Devil, send it after us,

In waves and surges;

And if one go ashore, let it be I,

And if two, I and my dog.

Such a great wind blew up that the ship capsized, and all on board were drowned except the wizard and his dog. So says the legend, at any rate; though if it is literally true, it is hard to see who survived to tell the tale, except Macpherson himself.

A widespread belief in the islands of Scotland and the Isle of Man was that witches could sell winds to sailors by means of the charm of a knotted cord. The cord had three knots in it, one for a light breeze, two for a strong wind and three for a gale. The sailor had to undo the knots when out at sea and the wind would blow as required.

Many witches’ spells are associated with knotted cords and we still perform a minor spell of this kind when we tie a knot in our handkerchief to remember something. We are tying the thought of what we want to remember into the knot.

There are numerous instances of the belief that somehow human beings and the elements are in a kind of sympathy with each other. Not only do we respond to the weather by being cheered or depressed, but the weather may respond to the deeds of humans. Many dramas of both films and stage have introduced a thunderstorm at some climax of the play. Especially is this so when the action has an occult theme. Storms and magical rites seem somehow to belong together. For instance, old people of the Devonshire countryside used to remark when a storm arose, “Ah, there is a conjuring going on somewhere!”

The great storm which scattered the Spanish Armada was believed to have been raised by magical means. Some have credited the Devonshire witches with having called it up; while others said that Dr John Dee, the occultist who was consulted by Queen Elizabeth I, had a hand in it.

Another furious storm coincided with the death of Oliver Cromwell on 3rd September 1658. It was whispered among Royalist sympathizers that Cromwell had a pact with the Devil and that the Devil had come for his own. They pointed to the fact that his death took place seven years to the day after his decisive victory at the Battle of Worcester. 3rd September also happened to be his birthday and a mysterious coincidence like that was most impressive to those more credulous times.

Perhaps, however, some atmospheric phenomena are more than coincidence? Both the beginning and the end of the First World War were marked in England by strange weather signs. On the evening of 4th August, 1914, the sun set in a sky so unnaturally deep in its crimson colour as to seem blood-red. I remember my parents describing how the first recruiting meetings were held, against the background of that terrible crimson sky. It seemed like an omen of the trials to come. However, on the morning of the day of peace, 11th November 1918, many people in the Midlands saw an unusual white rainbow spanning the sky. This was commented on in the Birmingham Mail, where it was described as “a very rare meteorological phenomenon”.

There was an occasion in the Second World War, when a rainbow marked a critical period of the conflict. At dawn on D-Day, just as the Allied troops landed on the beaches of Normandy, a magnificent rainbow arched itself across the battle area. It was much commented on and became known as “the Rainbow of Invasion Morning”. An impressive drawing of it by the artist Roland Davies appeared in the issue of The Sphere dated 24th June 1944.

Observation of the weather meant a great deal to the country folk of olden days and we may be sure that the village witches specialized in noting weather signs. A close and sympathetic observation of nature, in unspoilt outdoor surroundings, gave them years of experience on which to draw. In this way, they were able to make predictions which to an ordinary person may well have seemed magical.

Many old sayings and proverbs about the weather have been recorded and generations of country folk, though unlettered themselves, must have played a part in transmitting these sayings to posterity. While by no means infallible, it seems likely that they have some grounding in practical observation, to have been preserved for so long. Here is a selection of them:

As the day lengthens,

So the cold strengthens.

The coldest weather comes in after the Winter Solstice, when the days begin to lengthen again.

February, fill the dyke,

Either with the black or white.

If it’s the white, it’s the better to like.

In this verse, ’black’ means rain and ’white’, snow. A snowy February brings good weather after it.

March, black ram,

Comes in like a lion, goes out like a lamb.

The ’black ram’ is an allusion to the Spring Equinox, when the sun enters the signs of Aries, the Ram.

March winds and April showers

Bring forth May flowers.

Mist in May, and heat in June

Make the harvest come right soon.

Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight.

Red sky at morning, shepherd’s warning.

The shepherd, who had to spend most of his time out in the open, took the red sunset as a sign of a fine day to follow; but a red sky in the early morning meant rain.

This must surely be one of the oldest weather sayings, because it is noted in the Gospel of St Matthew, Chapter 16, verses 2 and 3:

He answered and said unto them, When it is evening, ye say, It will be fair weather: for the sky is red.

And in the morning, It will be foul weather today: for the sky is red and lowring. O ye hypocrites, ye can discern the face of the sky; but can ye not discern the signs of the times?

Modern meteorologists have checked on the ’red sky’ weather sign and found it to be fairly reliable. It has also been found that the old saying, “A green sky above the sunset foretells rain next day”, is based on fact. Certainly within the British Isles, a greenish tinge seen in the sunset sky betokens wet and possibly stormy conditions the next day. So also does a pale yellow sunset.

Another old saw found to be reliable is the one that says: “When on a dull morning a patch of blue sky appears big enough to make a sailor a pair of trousers, the day will turn out fine.” The reason is that this means there is only one layer of low cloud, which is beginning to break up, leaving clear sky above it.

Pale moon doth rain, red moon doth blow,

White moon doth neither rain nor snow.

This refers to the appearance of the full moon. ’Pale’ means lacking in light, because obscured by mist.

A ring around the moon,

Rain coming soon.

This phenomenon is known to meteorologists as a corona. It is caused by water droplets in the clouds, which refract the light, and it can also occur around the sun. An even larger and more spectacular ring, seen more often around the sun than around the moon, is called a halo. This is caused by the light shining through high, thin clouds of ice crystals, which have a prismatic effect, displaying a big circle, often of faint rainbow colours.

The solar halo is a beautiful sight, but it is also a very likely harbinger of rain within twenty-four hours. Occasionally, if conditions are right, the solar halo can appear like a cross in the sky, by sending out luminous rays centred on or near the sun. This may be the explanation of a famous phenomenon which appeared on the evening of Good Friday in 1929, when many people in England saw a cross of light shining in the sky. Such, at any rate, may be the means by which this sight was made to appear; but that it should be on Good Friday, and no other day, is at least a remarkable coincidence.

If the oak’s before the ash,

Then you’ll only get a splash.

If the ash precedes the oak,

Then you may expect a soak.

This is an observation about which tree first puts forth its leaves in spring, the oak or the ash, and how much rain we may expect afterwards. Both the oak and the ash were sacred trees in olden times; this may be the reason why they were looked to, as providing an omen for the coming summer.

When the mist comes from the hill,

Then good weather it doth spill.

When the mist comes from the sea,

Then good weather it will be.

’Spill’ here means to spoil.

Rain before seven,

Fine before eleven.

A sunshiny shower

Never lasts half an hour.

Mare’s tails and mackerel sky,

Not long wet and not long dry.

This refers to a sky full of small, broken clouds.

If on the trees the leaves still hold,

The winter coming will be cold.

Onion’s skin very thin,

Mild winter coming in;

Onion’s skin thick and tough,

Coming winter cold and rough.

I have met gardeners who firmly believe in this presage; but how does nature adjust itself in this way?

The reason for casting matters of country wisdom in rhyme, was to make them easier to remember. In addition to these scraps of verse, there were other traditions, such as that which called the little herb Scarlet Pimpernell (Anagallis arvensis) ’The Poor Man’s Weather Glass’. This small, scarlet-flowered weed is a good indicator of likely weather to come, if observed in the morning. If it opens its flowers, it is a good sign; but if the flowers stay closed, it means damp in the air and hence possible rain.

The more active and busy spiders are in building their webs, the more may fine weather be expected. If rooks are noisy, cawing loudly to each other, it is a sign of rain, and so is the flying of swallows near the ground. Bats flying about on a summer evening are a sign of fine, hot weather the next day.

The deeper the mole digs his hole, the more severe the winter will be. If he digs no more than one foot down, it will be a mild winter; but if he digs deeply, then the further he goes, the worse the weather we shall have.

The more bright red berries, rose hips and hawthorn haws may be seen in the hedges in autumn, the more frost and snow we shall have that winter; because this is nature’s provision for the wild birds, against the coming hardship.

Be it dry or be it wet,

The weather will always pay its debt.

In other words, the balance of nature will always somehow be made up; a piece of time-honoured country wisdom that has much philosophy behind it.

It is widely believed that the weather is more likely to change at the four quarters of the moon than at any other time; that is, at new moon, first quarter, full moon and last quarter. Orthodox meteorologists may scoff at any connection between the moon and the weather; but the old idea stubbornly persists.

In the winter, a night sky full of very bright, clear stars is a sign of frost and domestic fires will burn more clearly and brightly in frosty weather. Sensitive people can distinctly smell frost or rain upon the wind; though this is less possible in the polluted air of our cities than it is in the open country.

The great collector of such traditional wisdom and weather lore, rhymes and sayings, as those given above, was Richard Inwards, the grand old man of English meteorology. He lived from 1840 to 1937 and was for many years the most senior and respected member of the Royal Meteorological Society.

In his lifetime he published three editions of his book Weather Lore: A Collection of Proverbs, Sayings and Rules Concerning the Weather; the last of which appeared in 1898. He bequeathed the copyright of this treasury of traditional lore to the Royal Meteorological Society and in 1950 a new edition was issued, edited, revised and amplified by E.L. Hawkes, MA, FRAS, the Vice-President of the Society. (Published for the Royal Meteorological Society of London by Rider & Co., London, 1950).

The frontispiece of this new edition shows a photograph of Richard Inwards himself, a bearded, patriarchal figure looking like the reincarnation of an ancient Druid. However, he was no mere eccentric, but one of those extraordinary all-round scholars and inventors that the Victorian era produced so richly. He did everything from exploring the ruins of Tiahuanaco to being a master chessplayer when over eighty years of age. Those of us who love the magic of nature owe him a debt, for his painstaking collection of centuries of countryside tradition, so that we can still profit from it today.

When people become more conscious of natural things, they are bound to take an interest in the weather and respond to its moods. They soon discover, too, that the expression ’the spirit of a place’ can be more than a mere figure of speech. Weather to us is a very local phenomenon, in spite of the scientific forecasts now available on radio and television. Without in any way belittling the importance of such forecasts, personal local observation, with the assistance of some at any rate of the old weather maxims given above, will help readers to become weather-wise and provide a constant source of interest and pleasure.

"We shall have weather, whether or not”; and the feel of the rain on one’s face, the cry of the wind and the transforming beauty of the snow are as delightful in their own way as the sunshine of high summer. The pattern of a snow crystal under a microscope shows a beautiful six-rayed or six-pointed figure, and out of all the myriads of such crystals, no two are ever precisely alike.

There was an interesting discussion about weather on the Dimbleby Talk-In programme on BBC Television in April 1973. The participants were a number of orthodox meteorologists, together with farmers and students of weather folklore. One of the latter remarked that he had noticed for some years past, how four days in the year gave an epitome of what the weather was going to be like for the next quarter. These were Lady Day (25th March), Midsummer Day (24th June), Michaelmas Day (29th September), and Christmas Day (25th December). As the weather was on those days, so it would generally be for the next three months.

It also appeared from the discussion that there were two dates in the year which gave a reverse forecast. That is, the weather from then on would be the opposite of what it had been like on that day, for a while. These two days are Halloween (31st October), and Candlemas (2nd February).

It will be noticed that the four dates first mentioned are shortly after the equinoxes and solstices; while the other two are ancient Celtic festivals. The reverse forecasts connected with the latter are commemorated in folk-rhymes also. One refers to Halloween and the next day, All Saints or All Hallows, as Hollantide, and says:

If ducks do slide at Hollantide,

At Christmas they will swim.

If ducks do swim at Hollantide,

At Christmas they will slide.

In other words, if there is ice on the pond at Hollantide, there will be none at Christmas, and vice versa.

The Candlemas rhyme runs as follows:

If Candlemas Day be fair and bright,

Winter will have another flight;

But if Candlemas Day be clouds and rain,

Winter is gone, and will not come again.

There are several versions of all these old rhymes, which may be found in different parts of England.

During the television discussion mentioned above, a remarkable suggestion was made by Mrs Doris Munday, a hypnotherapist who claims to be able to influence the weather. This lady said that she believed the weather was influenced by people’s thoughts. In her opinion, the reason why the BBC’s weather forecasts used to be more reliable than they are now, was that when broadcasting first came out, people tended to believe these forecasts implicitly and therefore they came true!

Mrs Munday, who lives in London, was once challenged to demonstrate her powers by David Frost, who seems appropriately named for taking an interest in weather magic. She responded by causing snow to melt in twelve hours, instead of the usual forty-eight; but the sceptical Mr Frost put it down to coincidence. She also claims to have caused rain at the Olympic Games in Mexico in response to a challenge, to have shifted fog from Luton Airport and to have broken droughts in India and Australia.

Whatever the weather, here is a kindly old saw of good advice to end with:

After drought cometh rain,

After pleasure cometh pain;

But yet it continueth not so.

For after rain

Cometh drought again,

And joy after pain and woe.