The Decline of Pagan Magic

[sunnyskywalker]

Though the movies contradict the books too often for me to consider them canon, occasionally, a background detail is useful. One is Bathilda Bagshot’s book On the Decline of Pagan Magic, a movie prop in Deathly Hallows Part I. The existence of this book (should we choose to accept it) suggests that Bathilda didn’t only write propaganda for children. It could be propaganda for adults, but even that might include some genuine scholarship.

What might The Decline of Pagan Magic be about?

Depending on how she defines “pagan magic,” the time period covered could range from the first century to the nineteenth. If she means openly pagan magic in openly pagan European societies, it probably ends around the eleventh century, give or take a bit. So the book may mention the founding of the three great wizarding schools around that time, and how they did or didn’t contribute to the “decline.”

The idea that these schools were founded and the gradual splitting of magical and Muggle societies begun because of widespread, systematic(-ish) European witch persecutions is unlikely. That didn’t happen until a few centuries later. In fact, the Christian church often took the official position that witchcraft didn’t exist. Take this example from Charlemagne’s “Saxon Capitulary” of the late 8th century, which mandates execution for anyone who kills a supposed witch:

“If any one deceived by the devil shall have believed, after the manner of the pagans, that any man or woman is a witch and eats men, and on this account shall have burned the person, or shall have given the person's flesh to others to eat, or shall have eaten it himself, let him be punished by a capital sentence.”

Or take this excerpt from the Canon Episcopi, circa 900:

“It is also not to be omitted that some unconstrained women, perverted by Satan, seduced by illusions and phantasms of demons, believe and openly profess that, in the dead of night, they ride upon certain beasts with the pagan goddess Diana, with a countless horde of women, and in the silence of the dead of the night to fly over vast tracts of country, and to obey her commands as their mistress, and to be summoned to her service on other nights. But it were well if they alone perished in their infidelity and did not draw so many others into the pit of their faithlessness. For an innumerable multitude, deceived by this false opinion, believe this to be true and, so believing, wander from the right faith and relapse into pagan errors when they think that there is any divinity or power except the one God.”

Witchcraft is allegedly powered by pagan deities, who don’t exist. Ergo, witchcraft isn’t real but a delusion. Believing witches have real power is dangerously wrong.

However, this doesn’t mean there weren’t laws against witchcraft, witches, or specific types of magic. They were just a little more specific than blanket prohibitions against anything we today would consider magic.

Let’s step back to ancient Rome and the Twelve Tables. Our copies are incomplete and compiled from later quotations, but here are a few relevant fragments:

“Table VIII. Torts or Delicts
1a. Whoever enchants by singing an evil incantation ...
1b. ... If anyone sings or composes an incantation that can cause dishonor or disgrace to another ... he shall suffer a capital penalty.
8a. Whoever enchants away crops ...”

These fragments, at least, suggest that the offense was using magic to commit harm rather than any and all magic as such.

Or consider the 24th Canon from the Council of Ancyra in 324 C.E. Note the connection between divination and “the customs of the heathen.”

“As for those who are practicing divination and continuing the customs of the heathen, and who are introducing persons into their homes with a view to discovering sorceries, or even with a view to purification, let them fall under the Canon of five years in accordance with the fixed degrees; three years of kneeling, and two years of prayer, without oblation.”

The Canon Episcopi, which denies that witches have real power, enjoins the church to oppose them anyway because of their religious heresy:

"Bishops and their officials must labor with all their strength to uproot thoroughly from their parishes the pernicious art of sorcery and malefice invented by the devil, and if they find a man or woman follower of this wickedness to eject them foully disgraced from the parishes.”

Jump forward to tenth-century Britain and the 16th canon law enacted under King Edgar:

“If any wicca (witch), wiglaer (wizard), false swearer, morthwyrtha (worshipper of the dead) or any foul contaminated, manifest horcwenan (whore), be anywhere in the land, man shall drive them out. We teach that every priest shall extinguish heathendom and forbid wilweorthunga (fountain worship), licwiglunga (incantations of the dead), hwata (omens), galdra (magic), man worship and the abominations that men exercise in various sorts of witchcraft, and in frithspottum (peace-enclosures) with elms and other trees, and with stones, and with many phantoms.”

Again, the law conflates the offenses of magic and “heathendom.” Other kingdoms of that era made the same connection. For example, in the late tenth century, King Olaf Tryggvason of Norway (a recent convert himself) started killing pagan seithr-magic practitioners and völva seeresses as part of his Christianization-by-force campaign.

On the other hand, Bald’s Leechbook, a (probably) tenth-century medical handbook, includes the following prescription (on page 291 of this edition):

“If a horse is elf shot, then take the knife of which the haft is horn of a fallow-ox, and on which there are three brass nails, then write on the horse’s forehead Christ’s mark, and on each of the limbs which thou may feelest: then take the left ear, prick a hole in it in silence; this thou shalt do; then take a yerd; strike the horse on the back, then it will be whole. And write upon the horn of the knife these words, “Benedicite omnia opera domini, dominum” [“Bless all the works of the Lord of lords”]

Even leaving aside the mention of elves, this remedy relies on supernatural power: in this case, a specifically Christian power.

Or what about this eleventh-century English charm for keeping bees from leaving?

Against a swarm of bees, take some earth, throw it down with your right hand under your right foot, and speak:

“I catch it under foot, I may have found it. Listen, this earth can avail against every creature and against its opponent and against the lack of care and against the greatness of the human tongue.”

And against it cast away over the gravel, when they make a swarm, and speak:

“Sit down, victorious lady, sink to the earth! Never would you fly into the woods. Be so mindful of my good, as is every man of food and his home.”

And that seer-killing King Olaf? His reign was supposedly foretold by a seer, often identified as a saint. According to some stories, the experience is what convinced him to convert. So Christian seers were okay — presumably because their power was believed to come from the Christian God rather than from delusions or demons masquerading as pagan gods.

Where am I going with this? Namely, that when Hogwarts was founded, magic was not considered to be one thing. There were various types of spells, which were believed to have different sources of power, and many or most were inextricably linked to a specific religion.

You could make a case — at least for purposes of constructing a Potterverse history — that all magic once was treated the same way “Dark magic” is in Harry’s time: bad if practiced by your enemies, if it threatened the state, or if it broke specific laws, but otherwise, it wasn’t really the same thing. Which is why people were practicing magic, from those bee-charms to divining who stole a cow, all over the place. It didn’t count, as long as they didn’t bother the wrong person.

Real-world history suggests that belief in multiple sources for magic lasted until quite recently. According to Cunning Folk: Popular Magic in English History by Owen Davies, there were several classes of magic-workers in the early modern period — and most were not considered witches. (The learned thought they were, but failed to convince the masses.) Charmers used charmed objects, and fortune-tellers specialized in divination. Cunning folk were full-service magic-workers — and a major service was providing magical protection against witchcraft. Davies contends that cunning folk were rarely prosecuted for witchcraft (fraud or defamation were more likely), and their neighbors tended to defend them against accusations of witchcraft. So, well into the 19th century, there were magic-workers who were not considered witches performing magic which was not considered witchcraft.

The Founders’ revolution might not just have been founding the school. Coming from different backgrounds, they might have compared notes, noticed that they sometimes achieved the same results with different methods, and realized that maybe all these different spells and powers had the same source. (Or perhaps two sources. They may have considered witchcraft and wizardry separate gifts. We don’t know how long that division lasted.)

Just as revolutionary was the realization that spells could be disentangled from their pagan roots. The fact that Bathilda’s book is about pagan magic’s decline suggests that they did disentangle it rather than retaining pagan ways in toto. What declined, specifically, was magic as practiced in pagan religious rites, not necessarily the magic itself. Some modern spells might well be derived from those ancient pagan versions, stripped of their religious trappings.

While magic-practitioners weren’t persecuted as a single, unified class, pagans with powers that rulers (or neighbors) found threatening or distasteful might be — and Christians could be accused of performing pagan magic rather than good Christian don’t-call-it-magic. So, while there wasn’t a witch persecution as such in the Founders’ time, they may have had cause to worry that they and their students would be accused of performing illegal, evil, pagan magic. Especially if they or any of their students had political or personal enemies. In that case, an accusation of “heathen witchcraft” would be a natural escalation.

Pagans might not have been their allies either, if they were upset about the Founders defiling sacred traditions and offending the gods by stripping magic of its original religious meanings (probably giving spells a Christian gloss instead). Such threats, plus any other political conflicts, raids, or wars going on may have made retreating to a remote location appealing.

Given that there was violent persecution of pagan magical practitioners, why does Bagshot call her book The Decline of Pagan Magic rather than The Destruction of Pagan Magic? Or why not The Christianization of Pagan Magic, which ought to be followed by Volume II: The Secularization of Christian Magic? Did the intermittent persecutions only accelerate an existing weakening of the ties between certain magical techniques and pagan religions? Did one or more European magic school try to preserve pagan religion(s) along with the magic, and it slowly declined as witches and wizards converted to Christianity despite their teachers’ best efforts? Or is Bagshot glossing over persecution by Muggle rulers and conflict between pagan and Christian witches and wizards by using the word “decline,” just as she glossed over the later witch persecutions in Harry’s textbook?

And if the book is propaganda, whose idea was that? We don’t know how tightly the Ministry controls publishing. They let Rita Skeeter insult them in print, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anyone can print anything. Xeno Lovegood might get away with his Rotfang Conspiracy articles only because they’re so absurd. For all we know, the manuscript version of A History of Magic was more accurate and nuanced than the blatant propaganda Harry reads, and Bagshot changed it under pressure from the Ministry. Or maybe her editor changed so they wouldn’t attract that attention in the first place. Decline may be a similar case.

Or, since it isn’t a textbook for children, maybe it can get away with more than History, merely softening the title and sticking a few Ministry-friendly disclaimers in at strategic points while preserving an otherwise sound analysis. I’d like to think so. The Potterverse needs the kind of critical historical inquiry the kids manifestly aren’t exposed to at school.

Comments

[muisjelief.livejournal.com]

Sorry for jumping in with something slightly unrelated, but I wanted to share a theory on magic I had. I think a lot of confusion arises from the juxtaposition of magic being a way to focus intent versus the purely mechanical process of waving a wand and saying a phrase. And this creates some disturbing episodes, such as Harry being able to use Sectumsempra without understanding how to focus his intent (or maybe wanting to hurt Malfoy happened to be exactly what the spell needed, but even if you disregard this example, there are of course others, and it would also not explain why the spell would reliably slash rather than hurt Malfoy in some other general way).

My take on this is that beings who possess magic can in some way communicate with the universe to create certain effects. But communication implies language, and language gains meaning usually not from any intrinsic quality but rather from shared understanding. In the case of formal magic, you can imagine this is like speaking common phrases with set meanings. Because the incantations are repeated so often, being taught formally in classrooms, these become very well understood and even those without any extraordinary gift can make themselves understood.

But you can also make yourself understood forcefully, by an act of will. A child does not know the right phrases, but its desires are obvious enough from its actions. And you can also invent new words and phrases and write an entire book to explain a single idea, which might later be summarized in one single word denoting the concept. The former being analogous to children’s magic and the latter to ritual magic.

The communication here takes place not between humans, but between a magical being and whatever you want to call it, “Magic”, nature, god, the world spirit etc. My visual image is that some powerful magic user wills a spell into existence by either ritual or strong intent, somehow shapes “magic” to recognize this particular spell, and the more it is repeated, the stronger the imprint. Formalizing a spell is then a process to discover how to communicate in a reliable manner to the magic around you and inside you that you are referring to this particular path.

The main advantage to thus theory is that it explains why, although intent, ritual and magical will etc cocasionally show up, that nevertheless most magic is of this formal, mechanistic kind. It’s because it’s easier to do, as you basically don’t have to change the shape of the magic around you, instead you just take advantage of magic’s memory for this shape to remind it to act in that way. One assumes this takes way less energy.

[sunnyskywalker]

Yes, I can imagine it being something like a mill race: first you carve it out where you want the magic to flow (creating a ritual--almost certainly harder), and after that, the spell can happen whenever someone opens the sluice gates (performs the ritual) even if they don't know what they're doing. And if they don't do it right, mechanically, it doesn't work, or they accidentally open the sluice gates for an entirely different mill race, oops. (And there's how you get a buffalo instead of a floating feather.) The more people use it, the more well-established it gets. If it's neglected for a long time, eventually it will probably "silt up" or wander off in another direction or something.

Some spells are harder to carve a channel for, as it were, and others are probably more like slight diversions from an existing channel--just carving a bit out of the bank instead of cutting a whole new mill race. (This would allow for language change, too. Otherwise they'd all be doing spells in Sumerian or something.) And some spells, like the Patronus Charm, won't ever quite work mechanically--you need to direct the "water" more actively. (More like a fire hose?) And that's probably enough convoluted metaphor...

But what's interesting about the yellow-rat spell is that Ron believes it's a real spell. Ron is wizarding-raised and knows perfectly well what "normal" spells sound like. So why does this one sound plausible to him? That's why I think there could have been a tradition of rhyming spells at some point in the past. Ron could have heard of them in fairy tales and other old stories, or knows anecdotes about some historical event which involved one of these spells. So he thinks it sounds like an old-fashioned but legitimate spell. And if some of these old rhyming spells are still used occasionally, they might get a little mechanical push and work better than they would through willpower alone.

I wonder how long it takes for old, disused spells to lose that "memory" and stop being effective by mechanics alone without understanding?

[muisjelief.livejournal.com]

Well, if you make some assumptions such as Sectumsempra being Snape’s own invention, him having only used it a handful of times in his life, including a few times at Hogwarts, then Harry (at Hogwarts, using the “intent” of directing the spell against an enemy) could still cast it, maybe twenty years after its last casting. This assumes that locality is important, e.g. it was cast at Hogwarts before by a Snape in a particularly hateful mood and may have left a strong imprint. But also that all the ambient magic floating around Hogwarts would not disrupt the shape of the magic there within two decades. And of course Snape could have taught the spell to other Deatheaters, given he was known as a prodigy, and these others could have kept the spell alive. Or maybe he wasn’t the inventor, but he just rediscovered it within whatever family or school resources he had available to him to acquire such a reputation.

Since it seems obvious to me that JKR never came up with a consistent system of magic I think we can’t expect there to be a simple model for magic that easily explains all the potential exceptions in canon. I like this model because it at least explains why intent is not typically required for formal magic.

I was reading a fanfic where it often talks about waves of magic, or someone having a powerful aura, of magic pushing up against each other, and so on. And it occurred to me that in canon there is essentially no support for magic behaving as if it were a type of energy at your disposal, constantly lashing out. Magic in canon is almost always very discrete, based on casting a specific spell with its corresponding effects.

As for rhyming magic, I think there are two good explanations: rhyming helps to focus intent, because it allows you to repeat an incantation and connect it previous lines, therefore effectively doubling whatever force is behind an incantation. It was employed in this way for ritual purposes. The other explanation is that most wizards never received formal schooling at Hogwarts and that they used “peasant magic” based on oral traditions, naturally recited or sung in vernicular, with rhymes and idioms added to it.

[sunnyskywalker]

We could also add that while Harry hasn't studied Latin at all, he's probably unconsciously worked out a few common roots after six years of learning Latin(ish) spells and has a vague sense of what "sectum" means without realizing. That could add more force to the spell.

It's so frustratingly inconsistent. We do have Dumbledore's comment about "places that have known magic" and somehow feeling for magic by hand in the cave, which does sound like there's some sort of magical residue you can sense, whatever that means. And that there's so much magic at Hogwarts that it interferes with electricity, which again sounds like some kind of competing energy gathered in a "pool" (maybe generating Peeves as a side-effect). But then there are so many other cases where yeah, it does seem like pulling a lever or running a macro, which isn't quite the same thing.

I do think that historically a lot of witches and wizards never went to Hogwarts even if they were invited, since they had to earn a living, not spend years learning to turn rats into water goblets. There must be a lot of "peasant magic," and some of it still survives. At least in children's games, and maybe elsewhere too.

[muisjelief.livejournal.com]

With regards to magic being local and having energy, I am rereading DH and Harry can use the Marauders Map to spy on Ginny’s dot while camping in the wilderness. I thought that was quite odd, how can the map tell the location of the Hogwarts students without access to the castle’s local magic. I know the fanon assumption is that the map only provides an interface to an Homenum Revelio spell inscribed in the castle’s ward, but I don’t think that can be the case if it works cross country.

Another quirk is the trace, which tells you that “this specific spell was cast at this time”. But importantly, it does not pick up on potions, on artefacts, on effects such as disillusionment spells dissipating. Presumably you can ride a broom, or be around a magical creature such as a Thestral and it won’t ever be set off. It also doesn’t distinguish between house elf and wizard magic, despite the two being supposedly quite different. Yet you cast a spell and a quill somewhere writes it down. Just like the Hogwarts quill writes down magical births.

And just like the ministry can apparently declare the word “Voldemort” to be a type of spell that works throughout at least England to break down defensive magic and use of which is presumably written down by yet another quill. I think this is actually a good example of my hypothesis of magic without intent. The ministry must have done some sort of ritual to turn the name into a spell, and this becomes apparently inescapable. One wonders if they can turn it back. Or what happens if they make common words just kill you. Somehow this seems a bit broken.

[sunnyskywalker]

A lot depends on how the map actually works. If it's actively "reading" the castle somehow, yeah, that would be weird cross-country. But there might also be some kind of linking spell involved. Maybe not the Protean Charm (where objects are magically entangled with each other and distance and location don't seem to be issues), but something similar that makes the map a display linked to something on-site that's doing the actual "reading," whether that's the castle itself or another tracking spell or device based within the castle. Jana has mentioned that she has some ideas about the map--I hope she posts them one of these days!

The Trace is absolutely maddening. I think some of its oddities can be explained if it's deliberately engineered not to register potions, charmed objects, and magical creatures--to allow wizard-raised children to use their magical toys and live in places which might have magical creatures in residence. It would be too much work to filter all that out manually. Brewing minor potions might be as unexceptional as cooking in some wizarding homes, and unlike the magical toys and animals, it shouldn't attract neighbors' attention, so they might want to allow that. Even wand use would probably slide under the radar if they use a legacy wand in an officially-wizarding home while a qualified witch or wizard is nearby. This would disadvantage Muggle-borns who might not know about the potions exemption and can't get away with wand use at home, and so wouldn't get as many chances to practice magic as wizarding-raised kids, but many wizards in authority probably see that as a feature of the system, not a bug. And Dobby might have done something specifically designed to imitate human magic, because he was trying to attract the Ministry's attention. But this doesn't explain all the weirdness of the Trace.

The Taboo seems way too powerful. But also way too impractical. I mean, suppose Potterwatch had started a campaign to get everyone saying "Voldemort," and the Order started Confunding Death Eaters and sympathizers to say it. How many people does the Ministry have devoted to monitoring this Taboo? How many people saying the name at once would overwhelm their capacity to respond? If you could get dozens of people to say it every day, wouldn't most of them get away with it because the Ministry would be too overstretched to check them all out? And if they're slammed with Taboo-alerts, that would be a good time to do something else you don't want them to notice. It seems like a great opportunity for spamming the Ministry.

[muisjelief.livejournal.com]

To be honest I assumed that the map simply no longer updated itself once Harry left the castle, and that he was looking at an old version of it and not realizing it. But that’s not really credible, since iirc he just left for the train along with everyone else at the end of HBP and therefore it wouldn’t show the students in their usual state of being in class etc, meaning even Harry would notice this. And why would the map keep a memory of its previous states if it simply reads out information.

So I think you’re right and some sort of linking charm is a good solution for its behavior.

By the way, this is what happens to Bellatrix in DH when she gets angry: “She looked frightening, mad; a thin stream of fire issued from her wand and burned a hole in the carpet”. So here magic is something that leaks out of Bella and takes an elemental shape, namely fire, proving she is a true Gryffindor at heart (after all she’s brave, impulsive and desperate for approval :)

[sunnyskywalker]

I think I originally read that bit as the magical equivalent of smashing glass or dishes in a rage, but I like the Gryffindor link :-) Though she's also extremely loyal... That must have been a fun conversation with the Sorting Hat. ("Not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor! Wait, what? Not Hufflepuff either!")