Distinguishing Marks
As I intend to discuss further within a subsequent post, various categories of graffiti are recorded within churches from the Middle Ages, Early Modern period, Industrial Revolution and recent past. The type most familiar to modern observers are personal commemorative and dedicatory inscriptions and ‘doodles’ – though sporadically found in earlier centuries, unsurprisingly more common once a basic education was extended to most children in England during the late 1800s.[i] Other types include incised, carved and sometimes painted cross forms, related to orthodox Christian beliefs and ritual practices.[ii] Another, more numerous, category is that of incisions created by artisans before, during and after the preparation and assembly of buildings (and sometimes other features and objects): principally mason’s marks and carpenter’s marks, which may overlap in function with personal inscriptions. The most pertinent category for the purpose of this project is that of apotropaic marks, intended to provide spiritual ‘protection’ in various forms.
A previous post mentions some of the research that supports such conclusions – a body of work that has even in the last three years expanded;[iii] and I’m in the process of writing another post that further outlines investigative approaches adopted within interpretations regarding prospective material evidence for ritual acts and concomitant supernatural beliefs. So for now, I’ll simply provide a brief outline of the indicators that suggest such a function for traces of human thought and action in the past that has until recently been largely ignored, or attributed more prosaic meanings.
The possibility should be acknowledged that either individual or groups of incisions might have held multiple functions and meanings – and that meaning may have changed over time. It is feasible that other marks, for instance those made by masons and carpenters, may have been considered as apotropaic, and vice versa.[iv] However, the likelihood that certain marks were made with the function of spiritual protection in mind has been argued by numerous studies, for some time – within a variety of academic fields, as well as archaeology (notably architectural history, literary criticism and art history).
Various distinguishing features have been recognised, most significantly a limited range of symbols being employed: chiefly M, W, double V – often inverted, pentangles, circles, chi-rho, saltires, and taper or candle burn-marks, being common forms. In contrast to personal graffiti, protective marks are generally restricted to certain sites, being most commonly found within churches; domestic and agricultural buildings; and hostelries; this range also on the whole distinguishes such marks from those associated with orthodox religion. While probable outliers are occasionally found, they tend to be concentrated in particular locations within these contexts, concentrating (often in groups) in or around entrances / thresholds, such as doors, windows and hearths / chimneys.
These locations correlate with other forms of apotropaic activity (such as ritual depositions – on which I’ll write in later post) – again in distinction to personal graffiti, and often beyond the locations associated with ecclesiastical rites.[v] The distinct placement within what are termed in anthropological studies ‘liminal zones‘ is particularly significant. Such locations seem to have been perceived as ‘dangerous’ during the Early Modern era (& before – and to some extent, though less so, after), whereby not only human agents and natural forces, but also evil spirits, might enter and do harm.[vi]
Given the evidence so far reported, these marks seem more typically associated with medieval churches, and post-medieval secular buildings, particularly those dating to the late 16th – mid 17th centuries (although are also found within 18th- and 19th century structures). From their form, often their location (if made on stones in situ, access requiring ladders or scaffolds – most usually the property of craftsmen), and the employment of artisan’s tools (marks are usually incised or carved, but are occasionally painted, into stone and timber), it seems that most apparent protection marks were made during construction.[vii]
However, it is also possible that some marks – being scratched or burnt into surfaces – were done after construction by householders or others, in response to particular events. Marks have also occasionally been found in association with medieval secular buildings – the limited survival of which perhaps introduces bias, as might the dearth of churches built during the time when putative protective marks were most commonly made within houses (hence the particular interest in Staunton Harold chapel).
Culture of Fear: Context
Myriad occult works indicate a general fear of supernatural forces, and particularly of witchcraft, during the late 16th- to mid-17th-centuries.[viii] Although some challenged such beliefs during the 17th century, and by the 18th century they had become less influential among educated society, they retained a stronghold on popular beliefs. Within popular culture, the notion of supernatural danger continued well into (and beyond) the 19th century.[ix]
Witchcraft, although seen as a potentially powerful force, was not a distinct (pagan) religion, as has some have claimed,[x] but part of the Christian cosmos, in which the Devil drove some to act in opposition to God – and consequently good: hence condemnation by the Church, and the state with which it was closely bound. At this time, the supernatural was an active part of daily life. Society and culture were organised around scriptural doctrines: natural and ‘unearthly’ forces might be expected to work together, for good or ill, according to the omnipotent will of God. Such beliefs provided rational explanations for both everyday and occasional occurrences were held by many, even the most learned. Even those at the very top of society were eager to harness supernatural forces – Queen Elizabeth I famously relying upon astrological advice; and opposition to witchcraft was vociferously promulgated in the early 17th century by James I.
While puritans might castigate such beliefs, and certainly take exception to active involvement in magic, the participation of educated men (at least those within positions of authority) in occult practices was clearly at times tolerated, and often encouraged by those in power. The supernatural was intertwined even with scientific knowledge and practice. In the fields of physics & astronomy, for instance, significant advances were made during the later 17th century by scientists who as well as being devout Christians, still also laid faith in occult practices – notably alchemy.
This admixture of ‘magic’, ‘science’ and Christianity (and the numerous liturgical changes that took place after the sixteenth-century Reformation – when expressions of belief might provoke hostility and violence) may well have generated environments in which spiritual ‘protection’ might take various forms. Given the probable cognitive dissonance arising from disruption to systems of belief, the deployment of apotropaic markings alongside (rather than operating in opposition to) orthodox Christianity might be expected.[xi]
‘Counter-witchcraft’ and other protective marks, ritual depositions, and unorthodox acts (denigrated as ‘superstitious’, in deviating from acceptable forms of supernatural supplication), may be seen as the physical remains of fear, anxiety and hope – other forms of expression (such as prayers) leaving little or no trace. If we take, for example, the symbols commonly referred to as ‘Marian’ marks (believed to evoke the protection of Mary) and chi-rho (the Greek symbols representing the name of Christ), we might see one way in which these marks may have worked.
Formerly, the priest made Christ material in the host, ‘conjured’ through incantation in a mysterious tongue (i.e. Latin – unknown to the majority uneducated in the Classics); and supplication to the Virgin Mary might be made to her presence in statuary form. But the abandonment of Catholic liturgy, and iconoclasm, removed such participatory forms of invocation – without providing other means of ‘doing something’ at times of trouble, when, practically, nothing else could be done. We can perhaps see this need in some of the markings apparently not made by craftsmen during construction (using tools of the trade), but by others using sharp implements at hand: the incisions seem frantic, and desperate.
Other symbols, such as the pentangle, were integrated within magical practices (for example, in prognostication), and employed within ‘medical’ charms – as can be seen from contemporaneous printed and hand-written sources.[xii] This motif was not then generally associated with ‘devil worship’ as it is today, but was associated with Judaic mysticism (being incorporated within the Seal of Solomon – alternatively drawn as a six-pointed star).
Whether, then, we should necessarily associate these symbols with endeavours to oppose specific evils in the form of supposed curses of witches, or whether they might also have been employed in opposition to more general threats, requires greater thought in case-by-case analyses, with regard to the specific temporal and geographic contexts in which individual sites are situated.
Notes
[i] I’m intending to return to consider this category in greater detail (perhaps integrating an identity studies perspective – a field that framed my doctoral research), to share some of the examples I’ve recorded over the years.
[ii] For a discussion of incised and other forms of Christian cross marks within medieval and later churches, see Matthew Champion (2015), ‘Magic on the Walls: Ritual Protection Marks in the Medieval Church’, in Ronald Hutton (2015), ed., Physical Evidence for Ritual Acts, Sorcery and Witchcraft in Christian Britain.
[iii] There is now a large body of work on this topic, which cannot be listed in full here. Most notable with regard to this topic is that of Matthew Champion (director of the Norfolk Medieval Graffiti Survey & Suffolk Medieval Graffiti Survey Projects); and Timothy Easton.
[iv] Regarding artisans’ personal (in distinction to professional) graffiti, and the possible overlap of mason’s marks and apotropaic markings, see Timothy Easton (2013) ‘Plumbing a spiritual world’, SPAB Winter 2013.
However, medieval markings have been found within domestic buildings; and a range of potentially apotropaic markings within churches have been argued to date to the early modern era and later. For example, see Stephen Gordon (2015) ‘Domestic magic and the walking dead in medieval England: A diachronic approach’, in The Materiality of Magic. An artefactual investigation into ritual practices and popular beliefs, Ceri Houlbrook & Natalie Armitage (2015), eds..
[v] See Champion (2015), op. cit.. I am also conducting research into the presence of such symbols on other material, particularly furniture and clothing.
[vi] For a discussion of earlier (Medieval) examples, see Gordon (2015), op. cit.. For later (18th – early 19th century) examples, see e.g. Hutton (2015), op. cit., passim.
[vii] See e.g. Easton (2013) op. cit.; Champion (2015), op. cit..
[viii] See Gordon (2015), op. cit., regarding the possible shift in emphasis from revenants during the late Middle Ages to Witches during the late 16th – 17th centuries.
[ix] Owen Davies (1999) Witchcraft, Magic and Culture, 1736-1951.
[x] The erroneous notion that witchcraft was a religion in pre-Modern western society (particularly prominent in the 1960, largely due to propagation by a well-known anthropologist) has since been widely discounted by scholars of historical ritual and religion (who have shown that the idea was based on inadequate research and, to some extent, nationalist political propaganda of the late-19th – mid-20th-century): see e.g. Michael D. Bailey (2006) Magic and Superstition in Europe: A Concise History from Antiquity to the Present. Nonetheless, the notion continues to hold weight for some.
[xi] See Champion (2015), op. cit..
[xii] Alexander Cummins (2015) ‘Textual Evidence for the Material History of Amulets in Seventeenth-Century England’, in Hutton (2015), op. cit..
Old Wives' Tales 