The Devil at St. Dunstan's Church

The village of Mayfield lies among the gentle hills and wooded valleys of the Sussex Weald, a landscape of ancient hedgerows, winding lanes, and scattered farmsteads that has changed relatively little since the medieval period. It is a quiet place, the kind of English village where the church stands at the center of things and the rhythms of life are measured by the seasons and the ringing of the bells. Yet Mayfield carries a distinction that sets it apart from every other village in Sussex and from most in England: it is the place where St. Dunstan, the greatest churchman of the Anglo-Saxon age, is said to have physically fought the Devil, seizing Satan’s nose with a pair of red-hot blacksmith’s tongs and driving him screaming from the village. This encounter, which tradition places in the middle of the tenth century, has shaped Mayfield’s identity for over a thousand years and has, according to numerous witnesses, left a supernatural mark on the village that manifests to this day in the form of dark figures near the church, unexplained sounds in the Old Palace, and a pervasive sense of being watched that visitors report when walking through the village after dark.

Dunstan the Smith-Saint

To understand the legend of Mayfield, one must first understand St. Dunstan himself, for he was no ordinary churchman but a figure of extraordinary energy, talent, and complexity who left his mark on virtually every aspect of Anglo-Saxon English life. Born around 909 into a noble family with connections to the West Saxon royal house, Dunstan combined spiritual devotion with practical skill to a degree that was unusual even in an age when monks were expected to work with their hands as well as their minds.

Dunstan was a metalworker of exceptional ability. Before his elevation to the episcopate, he was renowned as a goldsmith, bell-founder, and blacksmith, crafts that he practiced not as hobbies but as expressions of spiritual devotion. In the medieval understanding, the transformation of raw metal into objects of beauty and utility was an act of creation that mirrored God’s own creative work, and the forge was a sacred space where the smith cooperated with divine power to shape the material world.

His political career was equally remarkable. After periods of exile and disfavor, Dunstan rose to become Archbishop of Canterbury in 960, the most powerful ecclesiastical position in England. From this office, he reformed the English church, reorganized the monasteries, established educational institutions, and wielded influence over a succession of kings. He was, by any measure, one of the most important figures in English history, a man whose reforms shaped the character of English Christianity for centuries.

But it is not for his politics or his reforms that Dunstan is most remembered in Mayfield. It is for an act of physical courage — or, depending on one’s interpretation, an act of spiritual warfare — that allegedly occurred in his forge on the site that would later become the Old Palace.

The Legend of the Tongs

The story of Dunstan and the Devil is one of the most widely known legends in English hagiography, told in various forms across the centuries. The version associated with Mayfield has become the definitive account, embedded in the village’s identity and commemorated in its buildings, its traditions, and its very name — which some etymologists derive from “Maghe feld,” meaning “the maiden’s field,” a possible reference to the Devil’s appearance in female form.

According to the tradition, Dunstan was working at his forge in Mayfield when a beautiful young woman appeared at the door. She was extraordinarily lovely, with a grace and charm that immediately aroused Dunstan’s suspicion. As a man of God, he was alert to the strategies of the Enemy, and he recognized in this visitor’s supernatural beauty the unmistakable signature of diabolical deception.

Pretending to be taken in by the disguise, Dunstan invited the visitor closer, engaging in conversation while he continued his work at the forge. As the Devil in female form drew near, Dunstan watched for the sign that would confirm his suspicion. He found it: beneath the hem of the beautiful visitor’s gown, a cloven hoof was visible, the one physical detail that the Devil could not conceal regardless of what form he assumed.

Without warning, Dunstan seized his red-hot tongs from the forge and clamped them around the Devil’s nose. The disguise fell away instantly, revealing Satan in his true form — howling, writhing, and begging for release. Dunstan held on, the tongs sizzling against the Devil’s flesh, until he was satisfied that the lesson had been properly administered. Only then did he release his grip, and the Devil fled from Mayfield in agony, covering the miles between Sussex and Kent in desperate bounds.

The legend continues that the Devil, seeking relief for his burned nose, plunged it into a spring at Tunbridge Wells, some miles to the northeast. The sulphurous taste of the spring’s water, which gave Tunbridge Wells its reputation as a spa town, is attributed to the residue of the Devil’s scorched flesh — a detail that connects Mayfield’s legend to the broader geography of Kent and Sussex and that demonstrates the medieval love of explaining the peculiarities of the natural world through narrative.

The Evidence in Stone and Iron

The Old Palace at Mayfield, now part of the Convent of the Holy Child Jesus, incorporates remains of a medieval building that tradition identifies as Dunstan’s forge and the subsequent archiepiscopal palace. The structure dates from various periods, with the oldest sections possibly reaching back to the eleventh century, though definitive dating is complicated by centuries of alteration and rebuilding.

The most celebrated relic associated with the legend is a pair of iron tongs, preserved at the convent, that are claimed to be the actual implements used by Dunstan to seize the Devil. The tongs are of great age, their ironwork corroded by centuries, and while their exact date of manufacture is uncertain, they are consistent with early medieval metalworking traditions. Whether they are genuinely a thousand years old, or whether they are a later creation produced to satisfy the demand for a tangible connection to the legend, is a question that archaeology has not definitively resolved.

The medieval great hall of the Old Palace survives as one of the finest examples of its type in Sussex. Its stone walls, timber roof, and Gothic windows testify to the importance of Mayfield as an archiepiscopal residence in the medieval period. The Archbishops of Canterbury maintained a palace here for centuries, and the association with St. Dunstan made Mayfield a site of particular spiritual significance within the diocese.

The church of St. Dunstan, which stands in the center of the village, was dedicated to the saint and has served as a place of worship for over nine hundred years. The present building dates primarily from the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, though it incorporates elements of earlier structures and stands on a site that has been used for Christian worship since at least the tenth century — and possibly earlier, if the legend of Dunstan’s forge is taken to indicate a pre-existing religious settlement.

The Devil’s Return

Local tradition holds that the Devil, humiliated by his defeat at Dunstan’s hands, has never forgiven Mayfield and occasionally returns to the village seeking revenge. This belief has been invoked to explain a wide range of misfortunes over the centuries: failed harvests, outbreaks of disease, fires, storms, and the personal tragedies that afflict any community over a thousand years of continuous habitation. The Devil’s malice, directed specifically at Mayfield because of his humiliation there, was considered a genuine and ongoing threat to the village’s welfare.

This belief shaped the village’s religious observances for centuries. The feast of St. Dunstan, celebrated on May 19th, was observed with particular devotion in Mayfield, the prayers and processions serving not merely as commemoration of the saint but as active spiritual defense against the diabolic attention that his legend had brought upon the village. The ringing of the church bells was believed to drive away evil spirits, and the bells of St. Dunstan’s were rung with particular vigor during storms and at times of community crisis.

The tradition of the Devil’s return provides the interpretive framework for the supernatural phenomena that have been reported in and around Mayfield over the centuries. Dark figures, strange sounds, feelings of being watched and followed — all of these experiences, which might be attributed to ghosts or general atmospheric weirdness in another location, take on a specifically diabolical character in Mayfield, where the local understanding of the supernatural is dominated by the legend of Dunstan and the Devil.

Dark Figures Near the Church

The most frequently reported supernatural phenomenon in Mayfield is the sighting of dark figures near the church and in the churchyard, particularly after dark. These figures are described as tall, shadowy forms that are visible at the edges of vision but difficult to observe directly. They appear to move with purpose, walking between the gravestones or standing motionless in the shadows of the church tower, and they generate a profound sense of unease in those who see them.

The figures are not described in the detailed, specific terms that characterize many ghost sightings. They do not wear identifiable clothing, display recognizable features, or perform actions that connect them to specific historical events. Instead, they are experienced as presences — dark, watchful, and vaguely threatening shapes that seem to embody malevolence without expressing it in any specific way.

Helen Cartwright, a Mayfield resident for over thirty years, described her experience of the figures to a local history group: “I’ve seen them more times than I can count. You’re walking past the churchyard in the evening and you catch something in the corner of your eye — a dark shape, taller than a person, standing among the graves. You look directly and it’s gone, or it’s just a shadow, or it’s the yew tree. But for that moment, you know something was there, something that was watching you. It’s not terrifying, exactly, but it’s deeply uncomfortable. You walk a little faster.”

The association of these figures with the Devil is deeply embedded in local consciousness, though more skeptical observers note that churchyards are naturally atmospheric places, particularly in the dim light of evening, and that the combination of ancient yew trees, weathered gravestones, and a church tower can produce shadows and shapes that the imagination readily interprets as human or supernatural forms.

The Sounds of the Old Palace

The Old Palace, now part of the convent school, has been the source of unusual auditory phenomena for many years. Staff members, students, and visitors have reported hearing sounds that have no apparent physical source: metallic clanging, as if someone were working at a forge; footsteps in empty corridors; and, most disturbingly, a sound that has been described variously as deep laughter, a growl, or a low rumbling vocalization that seems to emanate from the oldest parts of the building.

The metallic sounds are particularly intriguing, given the legend of Dunstan’s forge. The clanging is described as rhythmic and purposeful, consistent with the sound of a hammer striking an anvil, and it has been heard by multiple witnesses in different parts of the building over a period of many years. The sounds appear to come from the oldest section of the palace, the area traditionally associated with the site of Dunstan’s forge, though no metalworking has been conducted there for centuries.

The footsteps are reported in the corridors and on the staircases, often at night when the building should be empty. They are heavy and deliberate, not the light tread of a student or a nun but the measured stride of someone walking with authority and purpose. Some witnesses describe the footsteps as approaching from a distance, growing louder, passing by the listener’s position, and continuing on into silence, as if the walker were traversing the full length of the building on some business that transcended the normal operations of a school.

The building’s atmosphere, particularly in its oldest sections, is consistently described as unusual by visitors who have no prior knowledge of its history. Some report a feeling of heaviness, as if the air itself were denser in these spaces. Others describe a sense of being watched, a prickling awareness of invisible attention that raises the hair on the back of the neck. A smaller number report experiencing a flash of what can only be described as fear: a sudden, intense conviction that they are in the presence of something powerful and potentially hostile.

The Feeling of Being Followed

Beyond the specific phenomena of dark figures and unexplained sounds, Mayfield generates a more diffuse supernatural experience that is reported by many visitors and some residents: the persistent feeling of being followed or watched when walking through the village after dark. This experience is described consistently enough by enough different people to constitute a genuine phenomenon, whether supernatural or psychological in origin.

The feeling typically begins at the edges of the village and intensifies as one approaches the center, particularly the church and the Old Palace. Walkers describe a growing awareness of a presence behind them, a sense of being tracked that is accompanied by the classic physical symptoms of fear: racing heart, dry mouth, and a strong urge to increase pace or turn around. Those who do turn around see nothing, but the feeling does not diminish. It continues until the walker leaves the immediate vicinity of the village center, at which point it fades as suddenly as it appeared.

Some researchers have suggested that this phenomenon may be related to infrasound — low-frequency sound waves that are below the threshold of conscious hearing but can produce feelings of unease, dread, and the sensation of a nearby presence. The specific geography of Mayfield, with its church, its ancient buildings, and its particular configuration of hills and valleys, might produce infrasound under certain wind conditions, creating a natural explanation for the supernatural experiences that have been reported there for centuries.

Others point to the power of the legend itself. Mayfield’s association with the Devil is known to virtually everyone who lives there or visits, and this knowledge inevitably primes people to interpret ambiguous experiences in supernatural terms. A rustle in the hedge becomes the movement of a dark figure; a trick of the wind becomes the sound of laughter; the ordinary unease of walking through an unfamiliar village at night becomes the conviction of being followed by something malign.

A Thousand Years of Legend

Mayfield’s haunting is inseparable from its legend, and its legend is inseparable from its saint. Dunstan’s confrontation with the Devil — whether historical event, allegorical tale, or pious invention — has shaped the spiritual character of this village for over a millennium. Every dark figure glimpsed in the churchyard, every unexplained sound heard in the Old Palace, every prickling sensation of being watched on a Mayfield lane at night is interpreted through the lens of that ancient story.

This interpretive framework is itself significant. The legend of Dunstan and the Devil is not merely a story about the past but an ongoing narrative that continues to generate meaning and experience in the present. When a Mayfield resident sees a dark shape near the church, they do not simply see an unexplained phenomenon; they see the latest manifestation of a conflict that began a thousand years ago and that, according to local tradition, has never been fully resolved. The Devil was defeated at Mayfield, but he was not destroyed. He fled, burned and humiliated, but he did not cease to exist. And as long as he exists, the tradition holds, he will return to the place of his greatest shame, drawn back by the memory of his defeat and the desire for revenge that even a thousand years cannot diminish.

Whether the supernatural experiences reported at Mayfield are genuinely the result of diabolic attention, the residual energy of centuries of intense belief, the psychological effects of a powerful and pervasive legend, or simply the natural atmosphere of an ancient and beautiful village, they are real experiences reported by real people. The tongs that may or may not have gripped the Devil’s nose still rest in their case at the convent. The forge that may or may not have blazed beneath Dunstan’s hammer still echoes with sounds that have no modern source. And the dark figures still watch from the churchyard, whatever they are, whatever they want, as patient and persistent as the legend that may have conjured them into being.

Sources

• Wikipedia search: “The Devil at St. Dunstan”
• Historic England — Listed Buildings — Register of historic sites