The Devil Rides Out: Wickedly funny and painfully honest stories from Paul O’Grady

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Those who have criticised the Hammer film’s finale as being somewhat anticlimactic might have to be careful what they wish for when reading the novel. Instead of rescuing Peggy/Fleur from the occultists’ house which Rex discovered earlier in the film, our heroes head straight from Cardinal’s Folly (the Eaton’s Kidderminster home) to France in Richard’s private plane, and from there they follow a lead to Greece, which involves a twelve-hundred-mile journey across the alps to Yanina, after which ‘we’ll have to use horses’! Although the ritual is used in the book, Wheatley didn’t write the words, so Lee consulted the British Museum who directed him to the Grimoire of Armadel, a book of ceremonial magic from the 1600s. Lee chose eight words from the Operation of Uriel Seraphim, a spell used to trap the Devil in a bottle, ‘Uriel Seraphim Io Potesta, Zati Zata Galatim Galata.’ Chistopher Lee as the Duke de Richleau

This pretty much accorded with Dennis Wheatley’s own beliefs, although he was not born in these favoured circles. Dennis Wheatley’s father was a wine merchant, who sold fine wines to the aristocracy and royalty of Europe. Dennis Wheatley was commissioned as an officer in the First World War, which gave him an advantage socially. When the family business ran into trouble, Dennis Wheatley had the brilliant idea of grafting a literature of the occult on to a thriller. He then hit a winner in 1934 with The Devil Rides Out. At this time, between two World Wars, crime fiction throughout Europe was enormously popular, with the equally conservative-minded and privileged Agatha Christie as its Queen of Crime. Almost, it seemed, the end had come. Then the Duke used his final resources, and did a thing which shall never be done except in the direst emergency when the very soul is in peril of destruction.’ – Chapter 27, Within the Pentacle She looks forward the upcoming Satanic festival as ‘an extraordinary experience.’ As she argues: ‘by surrendering myself I shall only suffer or enjoy, as most other women do, under slightly different circumstances at some period of their life.’ The book details how de Richleau seals the windows with asafretida grass and blue wax and makes the sign of the Cross in holy water over every entrance and doorway. He sets five white tapering candles at each apex of the five-pointed star along with five horseshoes with their horns pointing outward and five dried mandrakes, four females and one male, in a vase of holy water. He binds Simon’s wrists and ankles with asafcetida grass and strings garlic for everyone.After successfully defending themselves through the night the group find that Mocata has kidnapped the Eatons’ daughter. Simon exchanges himself for her. Mocata is using Simon to find the Talisman of Set, a powerful satanic object. The book culminates in a desperate chase across Europe to an abandoned Greek Monastery where Mocata is defeated. The group wake up in the Eatons’ home and realise that during the ceremony they entered the fourth dimension. Mocata is found dead outside the house. The Duc wakes up clutching the Talisman and destroys it. Tanith is found to be alive - Mocata’s soul has been exchanged for hers. He was, therefore, cast as the Duke de Richleau and relishing the opportunity, read all the de Richleau books in preparation. The celebrants wash it down with a bit of cannibalism, munching “a stillborn baby or perhaps some unfortunate child that they have stolen and murdered.” That was a lot to digest for readers in the thirties. It was an epiphany to horror writers and fans who followed. It was unspeakable and yet so plausible it became a nightmarish daydream. It was as ancient as the dawn of belief and as modern as a sports car. Dennis Wheatley's hero the Duke de Richleau might represent England, Queen and country, with his stiff upper lip, and celebration of the British Empire, but his knowledge of Eastern magic seems impressive. He explains: But that’s the thing with The Devil Rides Out, whilst the film has aged better than then book, Wheatley – despite his deplorable views on race – certainly laid the foundations for so much British horror that was to come in the latter half of the 20 th Century and it’s interesting to revisit his work to see the origin of so much that was to follow.

Mocata will stop at nothing to obtain The Talisman of Set and unleash the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse on the world. A group of very self-righteous, incredibly rich people swan around in a desperate race against time to stop some Satanists doing - well, it's never entirely clear what - while taking frequent breaks to sample the finer things in life, lecture each other condescendingly, patronise women and complain about the bourgeois, poor, socialists... Maybe those pesky Satanists intended to vote for Jeremy Corbyn? The hysterical tone of the ultra-privileged heroes comes straight out of Tory central casting. Oh, did I mention the racism? This is a very racist book. I know this is a book from the 30s, but I'm genuinely surprised Wheatley was on our side during the war. Quite a few lines in here suggest at least a passing regard for the Nazis. He probably just didn't feel they were from good enough families. This was the first time I came across a book by Dennis Wheatley & I am glad to say i was not disappointed. Hammer’s special effects budget was so low that they used an asthmatic horse with one lung, to carry the Angel of Death. Lee often spoke of how he would like to remake the film, using modern technology.Wheatley “spared no pains to secure accuracy of detail from existing accounts when describing magical rites or formulas for protection against evil, and these have been verified in conversation with certain persons, sought out for that purpose who are actual practitioners of the Art.” The author learned more about the occult from his time in the British Secret Service during WWII, including vetting and putting Crowley to use. In the book the denouement takes place in the crypt of an age-old monastery. With our heroes imprisoned in an invisible magic circle, the Goat of Mendes makes a guest reappearance, this time above the altar on which the (naked) child is to be sacrificed, glaring at them with its “red, baleful, slanting eyes” and belching “fetid, deathly breaths from its cavernous nostrils”. Once again, the character outwardly appears to be English, whereas he is French in the book. And in complete contrast to the suave elegance and charm with which Charles Gray (who was 40 at the time) plays the part, Wheatley describes him as ‘a pot-bellied, bald-headed person of about sixty, with large, protuberant, fishy eyes, limp hands and a most unattractive lisp.’