Cloven Country: The Devil and the English Landscape

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Lightning strikes on the highest point of a village could wreak serious damage to fabric but also to people if a service was being taken at the time. The choice between blaming God (socially dangerous) and one's own sinfulness could be evaded by actually seeing (literally) the Devil in the act. Jeremy has written extensively on local history, folklore and the supernatural and is the curator of the Bourne Hall Museum at Epson and Ewell as well as secretary of the Romany and Traveller Family History Society. Owen Davies, Professor in History, University of Hertfordshire, and president of the Folklore Society

Cloven Country | Reaktion Books Cloven Country | Reaktion Books

Scared yet? Get a dog: there was a long-standing tradition that a spayed bitch kept in the house would ward off ghosts and other presences of the night. Because she was a female and yet could not bear pups, she was a living contradiction, a little uncanny, however loyal she might be--and so a natural guardian for boundaries between one world and another.Perhaps the most unnerving tales are not those of Hell's Hounds chasing men across Bodmin Moor (bad and selfish gentry are also targets of devil tales which, like fairy tales, can have 'moral purpose) but the use of the Devil to re-envision those lightning strikes on churches that kill the faithful. From a perusal of any detailed map of England, you would think we were a people satanically obsessed. Place names include the Devil’s Highway, the Devil’s Punchbowl, the Devil’s Thumb, the Devil’s Frying Pan… Even midnight is 'the Devil’s dancing hour' and the dragonfly is 'the Devil’s darning needle'... Fear not, says Jeremy Harte in this fascinating study, Britain is not as terrifying as these names make it appear." The Times Suspicions that a parson might be a master conjuror continued to shape perceptions of the clergy in southwest Britain until well into the nineteenth century. This could be because the peninsula was culturally remote, like other mountainous western districts; perhaps incumbents thought it better to use their own Latin and Hebrew in high occult style than let their parishioners trust in the village wizard; maybe the poor communications of the region forged many lonely parishes where, in the absence of social equals to talk to, a university-trained scholar could go quietly mad. Whatever the cause, Devon and Cornwall are the heartland of the conjuror-parsons. (p. 104) At Crawshawbooth near Burnley, there was a football match on a Sunday when an unexpectedly powerful player joined the game as replacement for an injured player. One shot at the ball and it disappeared into the sky in a flash of fire, along with the strange player, and that was the end of the game.

Cloven Country: The Devil and the English Landscape, Harte Cloven Country: The Devil and the English Landscape, Harte

Simon Costin, director of the Museum of Witchcraft and Magic and founder of the Museum of British Folklore

Harte gives us the tales of toadsmen, horse-whisperers, and porch-watchers possibly already known to the kind of person reading this review. He also discusses the cunning men and women of England, though his suggestion that those practitioners did not understand the books they had due to illiteracy seems contentious, particularly given some recent scholarship by scholars like Owen Davies et al.