Each year I aim to include a spooky theme on Halloween week. This year I've decided to extend it throughout the entire month of October. I'll review four witch-themed books back-to-back, but not the popular, spine-tingling type of novel aimed to disturb and unsettle us. I'll focus on insightful vintage reads which encourage us to consider the topic through the lenses of tradition, history, and even Christian faith.
Here was first and second. Third is this offering from the incomparable Elizabeth Goudge.
MY THOUGHTS:
It is the year of grace, 1642. Shakespeare is slightly out of fashion, because he's been dead for 30 years, and people wonder if his work will ever revive. England has embarked on bloody Civil War. The Puritan Parliament, under Oliver Cromwell, is ready to fight it out with King Charles I and his loyal Royalist troops. Both sides are equally convinced that the Almighty is pulling for them.
Parson Hawthyn is an admirable old clergyman who is dirt poor but considers himself wealthy in all that counts, including his meagre book collection. His hugest trial occurs when Robert Haslewood, his zealous young squire, commands him to burn all the holy treasures he's made for his church, and forsake music, bell-ringing, and the Book of Common Prayer. These have become desecration to the formerly easy-going Robert, yet remain spiritual sustenance for Parson Hawthyn. The same items are precious iconography for the elderly parson, but evil idolatry to the young Puritan. What a stalemate.
Hawthyn has no intention to obey, but then Haslewood unexpectedly comes home for Christmas.
The titular character is Froniga Haslewood, Robert's cousin, a gifted herbalist who has both gentry and gypsy blood flowing through her veins. Froniga considers herself to be a white witch as she dispenses her homemade tonics, ointments, and potions. She professes a blend of Christianity, fairy lore, Romany spells, and confidence in her own intuition and second sight. At the start, she is more devoted to her spells than to God, since 'good spirits permit their power to be drawn on with human will, while God demands the human will be drawn into his.'
Not far away lives Mother Skipton, the local 'black witch', who grows 'love apples' later known as tomatoes. This lady has made a deal with the devil if ever anyone has. She has sold herself over to dark forces in exchange for the opportunity to wield some power, and has paid a high price. The heavy oppression surrounding her house and property seems almost palpable.
Other characters take their turn on center stage. Francis Leland, a journeyman painter turned political spy; Will and Jenny, Robert's eight-year-old twins, as different as chalk and cheese, the stately and wise Madona, who is Froniga's Romany aunt, and Yoben, the mysterious wanderer with the secret past who happens to be the only man Froniga could ever love.
I can sympathize with Froniga, who never regrets her love for animals, but sometimes regrets that her love for humans is so paltry in comparison. For that reason, some of the animal characters deserve a mention too, such as Baw, the white gypsy pony who tends to be mistaken for a unicorn in the dark, and who narrowly misses becoming a victim of blind superstition. Also Maria, the King Charles cavalier spaniel with the droopy ears, who is now an embarrassment to her Puritan master, and Pen the white cat, who weaves around her mistress's legs, purring and vibrating.
Of course the story's outstanding character is Froniga herself, a single woman, living alone, who has reached the age of forty. Despite her mixed heritage, she never once feels displaced, but rather empowered with the force of life. She strikes me as a seventeenth century example of the sort of woman who men admire, and women resent. Froniga is independent and decisive. There is never anything wishy-washy or hesitant about her, but although she doesn't make a habit of second guessing herself, she's humble enough to take course correction on board.
I won't reveal all the catalysts, but by the end, Froniga renounces her white magic and spells. She feels too much pride in her ability to summon benign spirits, and therefore realizes the inherent danger in doing so. 'One's heart must be pure indeed to summon to one only that which is good.' Yet inevitable pride disqualifies many a well-intentioned white witch. Who would want to slide down the same slippery slope as poor Mother Skipton (who once referred to herself and Froniga as 'sisters in the occult')?
'Magicians, sooner or later, became worshippers of their own power, and the smoke of their idolatrous incense hid the face of God.'
This is undoubtedly my favorite Goudge novel. Although I haven't read them all, I've read enough to predict that I won't change my mind. Goudge's own brand of Christian mysticism has never fascinated me more. I stopped counting the number of times I paused to sit pondering, 'Wow, what just happened?' There was so much to stretch my brain and tick my boxes. For example, what fine but decisive nuances there are between spells and prayers. This novel is exceptional. It is colorful, immersive, convincing, and dare I say bewitching.
🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟
Next week I'll finish up this witchy month with a very cool novel of manners from the 1920s that has touches of magical realism.
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