The Devil in Shropshire

The storm that hit Shrewsbury in January 1553 was biblical. The rain lashed down and thunder ripped through the sky- even the night seemed darker and more oppressive. Fear whipped its way through the town- and on this night, if we are to believe the Chapbook of St Alkmund’s church- The Devil came to Shropshire.

This wasn’t the first time his cloven feet trod on Shropshire soil. Indeed, if we turn to the folklore of the area, we can see that he has quite the proclivity for the region. This is not to suggest that Satanic folklore is exclusive to the region, as it can be found all over the country. Rather a more accurate statement is that Shropshire is home to a large variety of folklore which concerns the devil, so much so that it feels like the county is his domain.  After all, in times gone by the once popular maxim ‘The devil was flying over Ellesmere, and he said…Sweet little Ellesmere you are all my own’ could be true of most of the county. Satan is referred to in familiar terms throughout Shropshire, with epithets such as ‘Uncle Joseph’, ‘Owd Nick’, ‘Owd Scratch’ and ‘Owd Mon’ used to describe him. These appellations portray a stark familiarity and provide personhood to all the forces that the Devil may represent. This is an important personification for several reasons. By giving such negative forces personhood- it goes part of the way to understanding them. Furthermore, personification is also a powerful tool in accepting that one cannot control such things. Even today, it’s hard to wrestle with such concepts as evil, pain and death- why some may suffer so greatly whilst other succeed, why famine and disease strike, and why children die, and it’s in this metaphysical struggle concepts of Evil thrive. I believe that humans had to create an originator for these hardships, to explain them and that’s why we have the Devil. That’s why he never leaves us. Satan then can be seen as a way of taking back control of an uncontrollable world- and Folklore as a way of reclaiming hope.

Today we are going to be exploring some of ‘Owd Scratch’s’ stories in more detail. I may be slightly biased, but I think these tales are generally brilliant. Some are cautionary- imploring you to avoid a certain place or action, some are entertaining- even silly, and almost all of them portray a situation where the Devil is undone by seemingly common folk- which is perhaps as much as a message to us now as it was in the past.

I suppose our story really begins in my childhood, which may seem odd for an article about the devil, but it will make sense soon. For when I was a child, I was told with a grave authority that my grandfather had met the ‘Owd Scratch’. I never questioned it, and indeed it became cannon within my family. Unfortunately, he is no longer with us, so I have continued to tell his story, and it goes something like this. 

‘As a boy, my grandad was never one for church. He found it boring and would have rather been roaming freely than confined to a pew. So, after talking with some of his friends he decided that he wasn’t going to go the following week, rather he would sneak away with his friend’s and play cards. What a great plan! So, this is exactly what he did. Before the sermon had even begun, the boys snuck out of the church and hid halfway down the covered steps of St Luke’s church. They were having splendid fun, made all the more special because they knew they shouldn’t be doing it. However, this fun was not to last, as their jovial game of cards was interrupted by Owd Scratch Himself as he put a cold hand on my grandfather’s shoulder.

The details are vague here, however my grandad turned slowly, in pure fright to be face to face with The Devil. Owd Scratch knew his name and told him that if he continued to play such silly games, he would be seeing a lot of him over the years, threatening him with the potential of Hell. Even as an old man the fear was palpable, and you could see that such an encounter, real or not had made an impact on him psychologically.  I would argue that this story was my introduction to folklore, and made quite an impact on me too, I only wish my grandad had given us a description of Owd Scratch.

Now, if we look at the folktales associated with the Ironbridge Gorge, my grandfather’s story may have some truth to it. Though very beautiful now, the industrial revolution carved out the landscape, and left it littered with foundries, mines, blast furnaces and lime kilns, whose fires were never quenched. The sights, smells and sounds of industry, both day and night would have been provocative, even hellish in the minds of those there to witness. Indeed, at one point the Ironbridge gorge was described as being like ‘the bowels of hell’ due to industrialisation and persistent red glow from the kilns (a great visual representation of this is ‘Coalbrookdale by Night’ by Philip James de Loutherbourg, as it really captures the otherworldly quality of the industrial landscape). With all this being said, it would be very easy to conclude that the Devil walked on earth in an area such as this, and indeed he did, for our next story takes place just down the road from St Luke’s Church- At The Boat Inn, in Jackfield. (A favourite of my grandfather’s in his later years, apparently)

One winter’s night, just before Christmas, a stranger entered the pub. He was curious and shadowy, dressed in what appeared to be antique finery. He spoke little, but stood at the bar chatting to the barmaids, in a way that made them blush and giggle. After getting a drink he made his way round the room, imploring the locals to play cards with him with the promise of riches, and whatever they truly desired. So, a few man played, spurred on by drink and such promises, and it was a great spectacle for all those who watched. But the stranger won every time. Eventually, it was the turn of the Blacksmith, who until this point had been quietly enjoying his pint. Reluctantly he sat with the stranger and began to play. However, it wasn’t long before he dropped a card to the floor. The Blacksmith leaned under the table to pick it up and saw that the stranger had a pair of cloven hooves! Before he could shout to tell the others what he saw, a great gust of wind blew the heavy doors of the pub open and swept the Devil out. One can only assume that had the games continued, the souls of those in the Boat Inn may have been at stake, as the devil is a prolific gambler, who only bets with the highest stakes.

There are a number of tales which link the Devil to a specific area, which were often used to implore the listener to avoid that place. Acton Burnell in Shropshire is the home to several of such stories. The first is linked to a road between Acton Burnell and Cardington. This road is known as ‘The Devil’s Causeway’, as folklore states it that the Devil created it in a single night, to aid his nefarious travels.

He is believed to wander this road still, and mostly appears to anyone who chooses to walk this path at midnight. Owd Scratch takes the form of a man riding a white horse (sometimes with horns and hooves like a goat or cow and far taller than any mortal man) He has tasked himself with judging the souls of those who are caught out late. If you have lived a good life, you may pass unheeded as the Devil knows he cannot harm you. You are allowed to live, so you can warn the other travellers of the dangers. However, if you are a wretched soul, the devil is free to beat you to a ‘bloodied pulp’. Certainly, this seems like an extreme fate- but if you consider the risks associated with travel, especially on isolated rural roads at night, you can begin to understand the reason such stories develop. I would argue that the purpose of this story is to emphasise the risks of the human world, the Devil is thus a conduit for the fears inspired by long, open roads and dark nights. Perhaps a harrowing crime occurred on the stretch of road long ago, so horrible people resolved that only the Devil could have done it, we will never know, however this story clearly serves as a deterrent.

Our next tale takes place not too far from the causeway, by the side of an old Roman road, with banks on either side. Halfway down the bank there sits a ferny, flowery area, surrounded by ancient trees of Yew, Holly, and Ash. Here a - ‘beautiful spring which drips into a rocky basin’ which is known locally as ‘Frog Well’. This spring has a long history, perhaps even predating Christianity, and has been used for centuries. Its waters are said to never fail, and it is believed to have powerful healing properties for the eyes. This is certainly an idyllic scene, perhaps more suited to fairies or water nymphs this well is a favourite for the Devil. It is believed that he is often seen to be around the well, accompanied by a few of his closest imps. Of course, they all take on the form of frogs, to avoid detection. Owd Scratch is the biggest frog and seems to be the most concerned with being recognised, so he is said to spend most of his time deep underwater. The imps however are smaller frogs, and seen more frequently, perhaps serving as a warning to leave the Devil in peace. I love this folktale for so many reasons, especially because it seems as if the Devil is using this sleepy corner of the County as a place to unwind. However, it has deeper meaning; water sources such as Frog Well were often at the centre of worship in pre-Christian times, with gods and deities being attached to them, and ritualistic behaviour often continued long after the advent of Christ. Frog Well would be no different. Perhaps then the tale attempts to deter those who may still take part in such rituals, warning them than worshipping non – Christian entities opens your heart out to the devil. There may also be a more grounded explanation. If you consider the dangers of being around open bodies of water, especially during a time where swimming wasn’t the norm, this story could be deterring people from their watery grave.

Plaish Hall has a long and formidable history, now a private dwelling- it was built in 1580 and was once home to William Leighton. William Leighton was chief justice to the area and one of the notorious ‘Hanging Judges’ (alongside Judge Jeffries) notorious for their cruelty. The building actually has its own gruesome ghost story (which you may have read about in one of my previous posts) as well as being associated with Owd Scratch. Indeed, Plaish Hall played host to the Devil once.

One Sunday night, a group of Clergymen descended onto the hall, for an evening of gaming and merriment. They were drinking and enjoying themselves greatly, when one suggested they should play some cards (a pattern seems to be emerging here). So, they began to play, and mid-way through the game, the Devil appeared. The men were stricken with fright but managed to run away from the hall and to the safety of the surrounding area. Well, that is all except one man, who was frozen stiff with fear, and left alone with the Devil. After a few days, guilt got the better of the men, and they returned to the hall, to try and understand what happened to their friend. Upon arrival, he was nowhere to be seen, however- in the spot he once stood, a man-sized blood stain covered the floor. This blood stain is said to be indelible, as a reminder of Owd Scratch’s power.

There are other areas which have satanic connections. An anecdote from ‘A sheaf of Gleanings’ by Charlotte Burne and Georgina Jackson states (albeit rather vaguely) that near Horderley in Craven Arms there is a hill which has a boulder on top known as the Devil’s Stone. It is generally believed that children used to gather berries and place them in the holes of the stone as an offering to the Devil, and if you ran around the stone 20 times, he would appear to you. It isn’t mentioned what happens next.

The Devil can also be found near the River Clun at Clunbury there is a building known as Chapel Farm. Popular belief states that Chapel Farm became a farm due to the Devil’s campaign of terror. He disrupted sermons, and spent the night tormenting the village with loud, nocturnal noises. Eventually the congregation of the church fled in terror, leaving it abandoned. Though both anecdotes give us little information, they go part of the way in demonstrating how entrenched Satan is in local folklore.

The following story suggests Satan was influencing Shropshire folk as late as 1915. Indeed, a group of women known only as ‘the women from Prees and Whitchurch’ told writer Edmund Vale that the Rector at Ightfield had secret dealings with the Devil. They informed him that the Rector sacked a garden boy for being cheeky, sending him on his way back to the village. He bumped into the boy later in the day and asked him what he was doing. The boy replied that he was trying to find a job, and the rector sniggered, telling him that ‘he would never find a place again’ before leaving. After this encounter, the boy feel started to feel strange, and quickly fell ill. The doctor was called, and the boy told him he’d been feeling well until having spoken to the Rector. He recounted their conversation, before telling him that after the Rector had driven off, a strange shadow had appeared in the road, and wouldn’t leave his side. Even as they were speaking, the boy said the shadow creature was with them. Three days later the poor boy died, having shivered ceaselessly since that fateful conversation. I think this is a very interesting story, which could certainly have a medical explanation, however it demonstrates the level of superstition, and belief in the power of the Devil which still hung on into the 20^th century.

In all of Shropshire, the Stiperstones is perhaps the place most synonymous with the Devil. The jewel in the crown of the area is ‘The Devil’s Chair’ which stands as part of several imposing rocky outcrops. The Devil’s Chair gets its name from folklore. It is said that Owd Scratch was heading back through the hills, after spending some time in Ireland. He carried with him a quantity of large stones, in his apron pocket, which he was planning to use to fill up a valley known as Hells Gutter, which was not far from the area. (Alternative versions suggest he was planning to dam the River Severn and flood the whole of Shropshire). However, as one can imagine, carrying stones comes with its own set of challenges. It had been a long journey and he was beginning to feel the strain. Quite suddenly, his apron strings snapped, scattering the stones around him. This infuriated the Devil, and even to this day he is said to jump up and down on the stones, trying to force them back to earth. When he succeeds, it is believed that England will fall. Another story suggests that the Devil uses the ‘Devil’s Chair’ exactly as the name suggests- a chair, or throne, to watch out over the whole of the county and plan his evil deeds. A local belief states that if you spend the night sitting on the Devil’s Chair, you will either be inspired, or be driven insane. Perhaps some of you are brave enough to try.

Though a popular walking destination now, It was generally believed to be a dangerous place particularly on the longest night of the year. This is when the Devil is most present. He sits like the king of the hills, and calls forth all the counties’ followers, witches, warlocks, and cruel spirits, to judge their misdeeds, as they partake in the most important black mass of the year, culminating in the election of the king of evil for the following year. This is such a powerful image, and certainly cements Shropshire’s place in the cannon of satanic folklore.

The storm that hit Shrewsbury in January 1553 was unlike anything anyone had ever seen. It caused rain to lash down and thunder so loud, it felt as if the sky was being torn asunder. And on this night, The Devil came to Shropshire. Cloaked by the storm he clawed his way up the spire, destroying part of the clock on his way, (which is still missing), and struck the bell violently, melting the imprint of his claws upon it, claiming it as his own. It is believed that he still spends time in Shrewsbury, perching on the spire, watching, and waiting. The devil isn’t quick to anger, but if something displeases him a storm will follow. Thus, when you hear the distant rumbles of thunder, it’s probably Owd Scratch in a grump.