Lancashire Folk-lore Part 7

king o' Dreighlesdin," used to a.s.sert "swaarmt wi' fairees, witches, un'

boggerts, un' which n.o.b'dy could mester bur hissel'." The boggart located at Thackergate, near Alderdale, has well-nigh scared many a sober person out of his senses. Herds of four-footed boggarts used to issue from a pit at East End, in form resembling "great big dhogs, wi'

great glarin' een, as big as tay-cups." The boggart at the croft-tenter's lodge (South) Clock-house, as fancy dictated, stalked through the chamber and stripped the bedclothes off the sleepers; or, a.s.suming gigantic proportions and snow-white vestments, perched in the solemn yew-tree, a startling object by contrast. At last, being exorcised by an array of divines, it was _laid_ for a time, beneath its favourite tree. A field-path from Fairfield to Ashton Hill-lane was nightly traversed by a being of another world, mostly representing a shadowy lady, draped according to whim, either in a loose white robe, or in rustling black silk. For a certain distance she glided in advance of the pedestrian, and then, by suddenly vanishing, most likely left his hair standing on end. At one of the Greenside farms a murder was said to have been committed in the shippon; and the exact spot was supposed to be indicated by the impossibility of securely fastening a cow in one particular boose; for, however carefully its occupant was chained overnight, next morning she was sure to be found at large, and once was actually discovered on the shippon balks. Thither, it was believed, the cow had been carried by supernatural agency; but, be that as it may, it was necessary to lower her cautiously down, with the aid of ropes and blocks. At a cottage adjoining, a boggart varied its amus.e.m.e.nts by drumming on the old oaken chest, still preserved; or, growing emboldened, shook the hangings of the bed, or rustled amongst the clothes; the alarmed occupants sometimes in despair rolling up the coverlet, and unavailingly whirling it at their invisible tormentor. At a neighbouring farm-house, amongst other vagaries, the boggart would s.n.a.t.c.h up the infant, whilst asleep between its parents, and, without awakening them, would harmlessly deposit it on the hearthstone, downstairs. "Clayton Ho'" [Hall] was of course honoured with a boggart, which at dead of night diversified its pranks by s.n.a.t.c.hing the clothes from the beds, trailing heavy iron weights on the floors, or rattling ponderous chains through the crazy apartments. These pranks becoming insufferable, the help of a clergyman from the parish church was obtained; and fortunately, with the aid of counter-spells and incantations, he succeeded in _laying_ the spirit for ever, declaring that,

"Whilst ivy climbs and holly is green, Clayton Hall Boggart shall no more be seen."

Even yet one room in the mansion is named "the b.l.o.o.d.y Chamber," from some supposed stains of human gore on the oaken floor planks; which, however, in reality are only natural red tinges of the wood, denoting the presence of iron. Even since the formation of the new road, J.

W----, the last of the ancient race of boggart-seers in the township, used to combat with feeorin' between East End and Droylsden toll-gate; but as he died a few years ago without bequeathing his gift, he (happily) carried with him his mantle to the grave. At a period just within memory, oft, after sunset, has the weary and tardy pedestrian quickened his speed on approaching some lonely place, by remembering how its tutelar spirit or Boggart could a.s.sume at will the shape of a rabbit, dog, bear, or still more fearful form. On its appearance, of course, the wayfarer fled in affright, and from fear and unwonted exertion, often reached home utterly exhausted. Next day the story would be widely circulated through the thinly populated district, detailing at length (and of course gathering minuteness and improvement in its transmission), how "Owd Yethurt o' Grunsho," or "Lung Tum woife," "th'

neet afore wur welly ta'en by a great black Boggart, wi' great lung hurms, un' a whiskin' tail, un' yure as black as soot, un' rowlin' e'en as big as saucers." The decadence of all these old superst.i.tions is to be attributed to a variety of causes. Straight, well-paved roads; increased intellectual activity in useful channels, informing the minds of one locality with the ideas of another, the publication of scientific works; and lastly, according to one aged unbeliever, the introduction of "Owd Ned [the steam-engine], un' lung chimblies; fact'ry folk havin'

summat else t'mind nur wanderin' ghosts un' rollickin' sperrits." The same authority archly declared as a clincher, "There's no Boggarts neaw, un' iv ther' were, folk han grown so wacken, they'd soon catch 'em."[44]

HOUSE BOGGARTS, OR LABOURING GOBLINS.

These humbler cla.s.ses of boggarts are by turns both useful and troublesome to the farmers of the district where they choose to reside.

Syke Lumb Farm, near Blackburn, is reputed to be still visited by one of these anomalous beings, and many of his mad pranks are still talked of and believed in the neighbourhood. When in a good humour, this noted goblin will milk the cows, pull the hay, fodder the cattle, harness the horses, load the carts, and stack the crops. When irritated by the utterance of some unguarded expression or mark of disrespect, either from the farmer or his servants, the cream-mugs are smashed to atoms; no b.u.t.ter can be obtained by churning; the horses and other cattle are turned loose or driven into the woods; two cows will sometimes be found fastened in the same stall; no hay can be pulled from the mow; and all the while the wicked imp sits grinning with delight upon one of the cross-beams in the barn. At other times the horses are unable to draw the empty carts across the farm-yard; if loaded, they are upset; whilst the cattle tremble with fear, not at any visible cause. Nor do the inmates of the house experience any better or gentler usage. During the night the clothes are said to be violently torn from off the beds of the offending parties, whilst invisible hands drag these individuals down the stone stairs by the legs, one step at a time, after a more uncomfortable manner than we need describe. Hothershall Hall, near Ribchester, was formerly the scene of similar exploits; but the goblin is understood to have been "laid" under the roots of a large laurel tree at the end of the house, and will not be able to molest the family so long as the tree exists. It is a common opinion in that part of the country that the roots have to be moistened with milk on certain occasions, in order to prolong its existence, and also to preserve the power of the spell under which the goblin is laid. None but the Roman Catholic priesthood are supposed to have the power of "laying an evil spirit," and hence they have always the honour to be cited in our local legends. Sometimes, too, they have the credit of outwitting the goblins; and many an old farm residence has the reputation of having thus been freed from these imps of darkness till they can spin a rope from the sands of the Ribble. The mansion at Towneley does not escape the imputation of having its "_Boggart_," although its visits are now limited to once in seven years, when its thirst for vengeance has to be satisfied by the untimely death of one of the residents at the Hall. A Sir John Towneley is supposed to have injured the poor of the district, nearly four hundred years ago, by "laying-in" a considerable portion of common to his park, and, as a punishment for this offence, his soul is said to haunt the scenes of his oppression. The peasantry still aver "that the old knight's spirit, being unable to rest, wanders about the mansion, and may be heard over the very parts taken in, crying, in most piteous tones--

"Be warned! Lay out! Be warned! Lay out!

Around h.o.r.e-law and Hollin-hey clough: To her children give back the widow's cot, For you and yours there is still enough."[45]

The popular story of "The Boggart Flitting" is common to both Lancashire and Yorkshire; and indeed to most of the nations in the North of Europe.

Of boggarts the Rev. William Thornber observes,[46] that there were several different kinds, having their haunts in that part of the Fylde near Blackpool; as, for instance, the wandering ghost of the homicide or the suicide; that of the steward of injustice, or that of the victim of a cruel murder; again, the lubber-fiends, the horse-boggarts, and the house-boggarts, or industrious, yet mischievous imps, haunting dwellings. He names, "The headless Boggart of White-gate Lane," as a sample of the first cla.s.s. So was "The Boggart of Staining Hall," near Blackpool, said to be the wandering ghost of a Scotchman who was murdered there near a tree, which has since marked the deed by perfuming the soil around with a sweet odour of thyme. Of another kind were those whose appearance was the forerunner of death in some families. The Walmsleys, of Poulton-le-Fylde, he adds, were haunted by a boggart of this description, always making its appearance with alarming noises before the decease of one of the family.

Of the lubber-fiends, house-boggarts, or brownies, so strikingly described by Milton,[47] Mr. Thornber mentions the ancient one of Rayscar and Inskip, which at times kindly housed the grain, collected the horses, and got them ready for the market; but at other times played the most mischievous pranks. The famous "Boggart of Hackensall Hall"

had the appearance of a huge horse, which was very industrious if treated with kindness. Every night it was indulged with a fire, before which it was frequently seen reclining; and when deprived of this indulgence by neglect, it expressed its anger by fearful outcries.

HORNBY PARK MISTRESS AND MARGARET BRACKIN.

The following story is told and believed by some persons in Hornby. The Park Mistress may be supposed to be the ghost of Lady Harrington, who committed murder three hundred years ago. Margaret Brackin was born in 1745, and died in 1795. The dialect is that of the locality:--

"In days that oud folks tell on still, Meg Brackin went up Windy Bank; Shou lated kinlin' on the hill, Till owr t' Lake Mountains t' sun it sank.

Nat lang at efter t' sun was set, And shou hed fill'd her brat wi' sticks, Shou sid aside at t' Park wood yett, A woman stan'in mang the wicks.

T' leaves on t' trees, they owm'ered t' land, And fadin' was the summer light, When Marget sid that woman stand Donn'd like a ghoost o' oor i' white.

Marget was fear'd, but spak and ex'd, 'Hey Missis! let me gang wi' ye, I hope as that ye'll nut be vext, But it is gitten dark and dree.'

T' Park Mistress e'en shin'd o' wi' leet; Shou whyatly cam te Marget's side; T' gerss didn't bend underneath her feet; Shou seem'd in t' air te float and glide.

As soon's shou cam whare Marget stood, Shou gript a tight houd on her hand; Shou led her first intul t' Park wood, Then back and forret o' owr t' land.

They kept na road, they kept na path, They went thro' brackins, scrogs, and briar, Marget shou soon was out of breath, But t' lady didn't seem te tire.

They baath com down te Wenning's brink, And Marget's throat was dry wi' dread, But shou dursn't ex te stop and drink, Saa forret still that woman led.

Owr shillar and rough staans they trod, Intu t' Wenning, then out fra t' stream; Surlie their walkin' wasn't snod, T' way they travell'd was naan saa weam.

Marget lous'd t' strings of her brat, And trail'd it gerss and bushes through, Till deg'd and damp and wet it gat; Then suck'd it out for t' cooling dew.

Fra Weaver's Ayr they went up t' wood, Now gaain' straight and then aslant, They niver stopt, they niver stood, But raac'd up t' brow saa rough and brant.

Marget could niver gradely say Where nesht wi' t' ghoost shou went that neet; On Windy Bank, when it was day, They fun' her liggin, spent wi' freet.

Marget hed been stout and throddy, But t' walk she tuk that summer neet, Left lile fatness on her body; At efter shou was thin and leet."

BOGGARTS IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY.

Having fallen into conversation with a working man on our road to Holme Chapel, we asked him if people in those parts were now ever annoyed by beings of another world. Affecting the _esprit fort_, he boldly answered, "Noa! the country's too full o' folk;" while his whole manner, and especially his countenance, as plainly said "Yes!" A boy who stood near was more honest. "O, yes!" he exclaimed, turning pale; "the Boggart has driven William Clarke out of his house; he flitted last Friday."

"Why," I asked; "what did the Boggart do?" "O, he wouldn't let 'em sleep; he stripp'd off the clothes." "Was that all?" "I canna' say,"

answered the lad, in a tone which showed he was afraid to repeat all he had heard; "but they're gone, and the house is empty. You can go and see for yoursel', if you loike. Will's a plasterer, and the house is in Burnley Wood, on Brown Hills."[48]

Edwin Waugh, in his story of "_The Grave of Grislehurst Boggart_,"[49]

says, the most notable boggart of the hilly district towards Blackstone Edge, was the Clegg Ho' Boggart, still the theme of many a winter's tale among the people of the hills above Clegg Hall. The proverb, "Aw 'm heere agen, like Clegg Ho' Boggart," is common there, and in all the surrounding villages.... Boggarts appear, however, to have been more numerous than they are now upon the country side, when working people wove what was called "one lamb's wool" in a day; but when it came to pa.s.s that they had to weave "three lambs' wools" in a day, and the cotton trade arose, boggarts, and fairies, and feeorin' of all kinds, began to flee away from the clatter of shuttles. As to the Grislehurst Boggart, here is part of the story as told to Waugh, or by him:--"Whau it isn't aboon a fortnit sin' th' farmer's wife at the end theer yerd seed summat i' th' dyhed time o' th' neet; an' hoo war welly thrut eawt o' bed, too, besides--so then" ... "Th' pranks 'at it's played abeawt this plaze at time an' time, 'ud flay ony wick soul to yer tell on ...

unyawkin' th' byes, an' turnin' carts an' things o'er i' th' deep neet time; an' shiftin' stuff up and deawn th' heawse when folk are i' bed; it's rayther flaysome yo may depend."

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See Thorpe's _Northern Mythology_, vol. i. pp. 118-231.

[2] See Mallet's _Northern Antiquities_, Keightley's _Mythology of Greece and Rome_, and Kelly's _Indo-European Tradition and Folk-lore_.

[3] Keightley's _Fairy Mythology_, pp. 2, 3.

[4] Roby's _Traditions of Lancashire_, p. xiv.

[5] It may be stated that this introductory essay is abridged from two papers read before the Historical Society of Lancashire and Cheshire, in 1859 and 1860, which were written long before the writer saw any of the almost identical general deductions and conclusions in Dr. Dasent's introduction to his _Popular Tales from the Norse_.

[6] This popular opinion appears to be very ancient and wide-spread; for it has been noticed by Moses as prevailing in Egypt.--Exodus xi. 5-7.

[7] The use of the old style in effect, is not yet extinct in Lancashire. The writer knows an old man, R. H., of Habergham, about 77 years of age, who always reckons the changes of the seasons in this manner. He alleges the practice of his grandfather and father in support of his method; and states with much confidence that--"Perliment didn't change t' seeasuns wen thay chang'd t' day o't' munth."

[8] _Conybeare_, p. 242.

[9] Charnock's _Breviary of Natural Philosophy_ in Ashmole's _Theatrum Chemic.u.m_, p. 297.

[10] _Companion to Almanac_ for 1837, p. 22.

[11] Maier's _Symbola Ameae Mensae_.

[12] Thomson's _Annals of Philosophy_, n. s., vol. vi. p. 241.

[13] Ben Jonson, in his play of the _Alchemist_, has the following lines:--

"But when you see th' effects of the Great Medium, Of which one part projected on a hundred Of Mercury, or Venus, or the Moon, Shall turn it to as many of the Sun; Nay to a thousand, so ad infinitum, You will believe me."