Rustic Speech and Folk-Lore

by Elizabeth Mary Wright

Boggarts

The generic name for an apparition, whether ghost or hobgoblin, is boggart or boggard, cp. ‘a boggarde, spectrum’, Levins, Manip. 1570. Many an old Hall in Lancashire had its own private and particular boggart, as for instance, the Boggart of Clegg Hall, the Clayton Hall Boggart, the Clock House Boggart, &c. The Clock House Boggart was wont to stalk through the bedchambers at dead of night, and strip the bedclothes off the sleepers; or it would sit, a gigantic, white-robed figure, perched solemnly in a large yew-tree, beneath which tree it was ultimately laid by an assemblage of divines. The Clayton Hall Boggart was likewise notorious for its nightly pranks—snatching the clothes off beds, trailing heavy weights across floors, and the like—till at last it became so insufferable that steps had to be taken to lay it. One of the best ways of laying a boggart was to beguile it into consenting to keep away ‘while hollies are green’. The average boggart, being too dull-witted to perceive the true inwardness of the suggestion, easily fell into the trap, and was never able to appear again. Aw’m heere agen, like the Clegg Hall Boggart, is, or used to be, a popular saying commemorating one of these well-known ghosts. A horse that starts at any object in the hedge or road is said to take the boggart. In Cheshire the word denotes a scarecrow, a meaning familiarized to us by Caldecott’s illustrations to The Three Jovial Huntsmen:

They hunted, an’ they hollo’d, an’ the first thing they did find,

Was a tatter’t boggart, in a field, an’ that they left behind.

Cp. ‘Like as a fray-boggarde in a garden off cucumbers kepeth nothinge, even so are their goddes of wod, of sylver and golde,’ Coverdale (1535), Baruch vi. 69. The most dramatic and awesome of all the boggarts is the north-country Barghest, a frightful goblin armed with teeth and claws, having eyes as big as saucers, and loaded with heavy chains, which rattle and clank, like Herne the Hunter who ‘shakes a chain in a most hideous and dreadful manner’, Merry Wives, IV. iv. 33. Sometimes the Barghest takes the shape of a large dog, donkey, pig, or calf; sometimes only its terrifying shrieks are heard, as it passes by at midnight, boding death to any one who happens to hear the sound. It has long been a prominent figure among apparitions, and various attempts have been made to account for its name. Some folklorists think that the word is a corruption of barn-ghaist [ghost], others suggest bier-ghaist, and others, with a sense of the picturesque, say it is bar-ghaist, because the spectre had a habit of sitting on the top rail of a gate or fence, waiting, ready to leap on to the shoulder of the belated wanderer. But whatever its origin, the name yet lives in proverbial sayings such as: to roar like a barghest (Dur.), and as a term of abuse (Yks. Not.), e.g. You noisy bargust, said to a child, or: Y’er allus i’ th’road, yer young bargest, ger out! Church-grim (Yks.) is a fixed inhabitant of the church by day and by night, and only ‘marauds about’ in dark stormy weather. It has been known to toll the death-bell at midnight, and at times a priest officiating at a burial would see it sitting at a window in the church-tower, when he would be able to tell by the creature’s aspect whether the soul of the departed was saved or lost. Clap-cans (Lan.) does nothing beyond making a noise as of beating on empty cans. Gally-trot (n.Cy. Suf.) is the name of an alarming apparition in the shape of a dog, and of the size of a bullock. It is white, and somewhat shadowy of outline, and it gives chase to any one who runs away from it in fear. The word is derived from gally, to frighten, scare, and may also be used as a common term for ghostly objects in general, though it sounds almost slangy, and one could fancy that in spectral circles it might be deemed an impertinence to speak—let us say—of the Barghest of York as a mere gally-trot. A guytrash (n.Cy. Yks.) is an evil cow whose appearance was formerly believed in as a sign of death. Jack-in-irons (Yks.) is a supernatural being of great stature, wearing clanking chains, who may at any moment spring out on a passer-by in the dark. Old Baker, Old Bendy, and Old Lob are just ordinary boggarts. Pad-foot is a terrible boggart with saucer-eyes, and dragging clanking chains; or it takes the form of a large sheep or dog walking beside you, making a soft noise—pad, pad, pad—with its feet. It always portends disaster. Old Shock (e.An.) is a mischievous goblin in the shape of a great dog or calf, haunting highways and footpaths after dark. Those who are so foolhardy as to encounter the beast are sure to be thrown down and severely bruised. Skriker (Yks. Lan.) is an apparition portending death. It wanders about in the woods by night uttering loud, piercing shrieks, its form being then invisible. At other times it takes visible shape as a large dog, with enormous feet and shaggy hair, and the usual saucer-eyes. When walking, its feet make a splashing noise, as of a person in old shoes walking in soft mud; hence it is also known by the name of Trash, for to trash signifies to walk wearily through wet and mire, and trashes are worn-out shoes.

Apparitions in the form of Animals

Then there is the phantom horse under its various names: Aughisky (Irel.), the fairy water-horse that preys on cattle; Phooka (Irel.), the spectral horse which carries off belated travellers on its back; Neugle (Sh.I.), the water-kelpie which appears in the form of a sleek horse, and vanishes in a ‘blue lowe’, also known by the name of De Shoopiltie; Shagfoal (Lin. Nhp.), a hobgoblin in the shape of a small, rough horse, with eyes like tea-saucers; Tangie (Sh. & Or.I.), a sea-spirit which sometimes assumes the appearance of a horse, and at other times that of an old man. Taroo-ushtey (I.Ma.) is a fabulous water-bull.

Gabriel’s Hounds

The Gabriel Ratchets, Gabble Raches, or Gabriel’s Hounds (n.Cy. Yks. Lan. Stf. Der.) are spectre dogs whose yelping cry may be heard at dead of night, or in the early morning, what time the collier goes to his work in the pits, a warning of death to the hearer or to some one among his kinsfolk and acquaintance. Their leader Gabriel is condemned to follow his hounds at night, high in the upper air, till doomsday, for the sin of having hunted on Sunday. Wordsworth alludes to this superstition in one of his Sonnets:

For overhead are sweeping Gabriel’s Hounds,