IT’S that time of year when children dress up as ghouls or witches and go door-to-door innocently collecting sweets. But the history of witchcraft is rather more complex.
Early witchcraft was a rudimentary and localised religion, bound up in fertility and survival – the two over-riding concerns for our species, then as now.
But, by degrees, the world progressed. The concept of society developed; so too the idea of established religion.
However, in the early years of Christian imperialism, the church much preferred to assimilate
by stealth.
For example, until 834,
All Hallows was on May 13 – it was moved to November 1 by Pope Gregory to overlay an older pagan festival. So, too, Christmas, to overlay the pagan winter solstice (also known as Yule, hence our Yule log).
Witchcraft’s journey to demonic intolerance took several centuries. In eighth-century Saxony, the death penalty existed for anyone killing
a witch.
In 11th-century Hungary, Charlemagne decreed that there was no legal remedy against witches “since they do not exist”.
Bit by bit, the church was flexing its muscles, however, and tolerance was chipped away.
By the 15th century in Hungary, the memory of Charlemagne now dimmed, a first offender found guilty of witchcraft was made to stand in the town square wearing a Jew’s cap, a symmetrical punishment alongside Europe’s other principal scapegoat.
Indeed, in many parts of Europe, the social exclusion of witches was only matched by the social exclusion of Jewish people.
It was merely a matter for individual societies to pick
the scapegoat which best
suited their particular circumstances.
In the Alps and Pyrenees they burned witches, in Spain they burned Jews – for the simple crime of being either a witch
or a Jew.
In 14th and 15th century Germany, it was the Jews who suffered; by the 16th century it was the witches. In the 20th century, it was the turn of the Jew again, the cycle of persecution turning full circle in the ovens of Auschwitz.
The last person in the UK
to be prosecuted for witchcraft was Scottish housewife Helen Duncan, jailed for nine months in 1944 because,as a spiritualist, she seemed to know too much about the war effort.
Charlie Laidlaw is a marketing consultant and novelist and lives
in East Lothian
Why are you making commenting on The National only available to subscribers?
We know there are thousands of National readers who want to debate, argue and go back and forth in the comments section of our stories. We’ve got the most informed readers in Scotland, asking each other the big questions about the future of our country.
Unfortunately, though, these important debates are being spoiled by a vocal minority of trolls who aren’t really interested in the issues, try to derail the conversations, register under fake names, and post vile abuse.
So that’s why we’ve decided to make the ability to comment only available to our paying subscribers. That way, all the trolls who post abuse on our website will have to pay if they want to join the debate – and risk a permanent ban from the account that they subscribe with.
The conversation will go back to what it should be about – people who care passionately about the issues, but disagree constructively on what we should do about them. Let’s get that debate started!
Callum Baird, Editor of The National
Comments: Our rules
We want our comments to be a lively and valuable part of our community - a place where readers can debate and engage with the most important local issues. The ability to comment on our stories is a privilege, not a right, however, and that privilege may be withdrawn if it is abused or misused.
Please report any comments that break our rules.
Read the rules here