HOUSEHOLD AUTHORITY
One of the first things that struck me in this work was the positive
antiquity of some Gallic phrases used concerning the subject of moving
house. The two that are mentioned at the very beginning are on pend la crémaillère (the hanging of the chimney hook) and on change de pénates
(changing household gods). They stand out in comparison because, to
the best of my knowledge, we British have nothing comparable that dates
back so far. We have no geomancers (unless one counts the surveyor) and
we most certainly do not talk of changing our household gods. Even the
practice of nailing a horseshoe above the door has fallen very much by
the wayside. Although I haven’t checked (mea culpa), as far as
I know, the likes of Taylor Wimpey and Barratt Homes don’t race to wall
up a stranger’s shadow or a cat within the abodes that they construct.
The contrast between how traditions and superstitions are referred to
between the British and the French is something which may possibly be
explained by the preponderance of British people living in towns and the
continuing existence of a French peasantry, who will presumably have
retained the beliefs and traditions of their forebears. This may go on
to explain why the author, himself a Gaul, is so captivated by the
subject of household superstitions.
Claude Lecouteux was Professor emeritus at the Paris-Sorbonne University
and a prolific author. He has written around thirty books dealing with
both mediaeval and pagan beliefs. This book covers many, many folk
beliefs concerning anything to do with constructing a house and setting
up home, especially where it concerns paranormal entities that are
concerned with the wellbeing of the dwelling and any attendant life
forms or, indeed, the actual fabric of the structure. Many of these are
fascinating and some are positively bizarre compared to our
contemporary, workaday approach to construction. There was also a
personal resonance, as I was pleasantly surprised to see that not only
were some splendid examples of pargetting from England included in the
colour photographs but also a fair few were from my former home county
of Essex.
However, the real issues I take with this otherwise worthy and
undoubtedly scholarly work is that it seems to ramble somewhat. Whilst
steering clear of academic language, its approachability is marred by
not being either more in the form of a list (for, generally, that’s what
this is) or something less precise and more chatty. Unfortunately it
seems to have the least desirable aspects of both list and anecdote; all
over the shop on the one hand and short on entertainment on the other.
For instance, when talking about the communal hearth, the scene changes
from Russia, the Tyrol, the Samoyeds, Sweden, Swabia and Brittany in
one short paragraph, thus both cramming in a lot of information without
making it easy to retrieve later on. This packing together of data has
no system of subheadings or an alternative reference system, which both
makes it difficult to digest without frequent breaks and contributes to a
slightly breathless and confused feel. At least there is an index, an
exhaustive bibliography and notes at the end.
It is very desirable that this information, put together by an
undisputed expert in the field (or rather, the house) is collected in a
single volume. However, it would be even more desirable if it were
arranged in a more obviously accessible fashion, facilitating retrieval
of the absorbing and intriguing contents therein. – Trevor Pyne.
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