M. Paul B. Du Chaillu, in his "Journey to Ashango-land," relates many striking instances of the popular belief in witchcraft which exists in Western Equatorial Africa. He says:--

"As usual I heard a harrowing tale of witchcraft in the course of the day. Few weeks pa.s.s away in these unhappy villages without something of this kind happening. A poor fellow was singing a mournful song, seated on the ground in the village street; and on enquiring the cause of his grief I was told that the chief of the village near his having died, and the magic doctor having declared that five persons had bewitched him, the mother, sister, and brother of the poor mourner had just been ruthlessly ma.s.sacred by the excited people, and his own house and plantation burnt and laid waste." He describes at length the ceremonies attending the drinking of the mboundou, or the ordeal by poison, which he witnessed at Mayolo. If the poison kills the suspected person he is p.r.o.nounced guilty; but if, as in three instances he witnessed, the drinker should, after severe spasms, vomit the deadly potion, he generally recovers, and is declared innocent of the charge of witchcraft preferred against him.

From these instances, and others which might be adduced, it is clear that this superst.i.tion is a very ancient and a very universal one, in some form, and therefore, not necessarily of exclusively Aryan origin; but that it may result from similar conditions to which humanity is, or has been, subjected in various parts of the globe. It is not impossible, however, that the African instances referred to may have some very remote connection with the Aryan superst.i.tions of a similar character, for M. Du Chaillu expressly declares his belief that the ancestors of the present inhabitants of Western Equatorial Africa migrated from the east. He says:--"The migration of the tribes, as I have already observed, seems to have followed the same laws as migrations among ourselves; I did not meet with a single tribe or clan who said they came from the west; they all pointed to the east as the place they came from."

Mr. T. T. Wilkinson gives the following very graphic description of a Burnley witch, but recently deceased:--

"Most nations of all ages have been accustomed to deck the graves of their dead with appropriate flowers, much as we do at present. The last words of the dying have, from the earliest times, been considered of prophetic import; and, according to Theocritus, some one of those present have endeavoured to receive into his mouth the last breath of a dying parent or friend, '_as fancying the soul to pa.s.s out with it and enter into their own bodies_.' Few would expect to find this singular custom still existing in Lancashire, and yet such is the fact.

Witchcraft can boast her votaries in this county even up to the present date, and she numbers this practice amongst her rites and ceremonies.

Not many years ago, there resided in the neighbourhood of Burnley, a female whose malevolent practices were supposed to render themselves manifest by the injuries she inflicted on her neighbours' cattle; and many a lucky-stone, many a stout horseshoe and rusty sickle, may now be found behind the doors or hung from the beams of the cow-houses and stables belonging to the farmers in that locality, which date their suspension from the time when this good old lady held the country side in awe. Not one of her neighbours ever dared to offend her openly; and if she at any time preferred a request it was granted at all hazards, regardless of inconvenience and expense. If in some thoughtless moment any one spoke slightingly either of her or her powers, a corresponding penalty was threatened as soon as it reached her ears, and the loss of cattle, personal health, or a general 'run of bad luck' soon led the offending party to think seriously of making peace with his powerful tormentor. As time wore on she herself sickened and died; but before she could 'shuffle off this mortal coil,' she must needs _transfer her familiar spirit_ to some trusty successor. An intimate acquaintance from a neighbouring township was consequently sent for in all haste, and on her arrival was immediately closeted with her dying friend. What pa.s.sed between them has never fully transpired, but it is confidently affirmed that at the close of the interview this a.s.sociate _received the witch's last breath into her mouth, and with it the familiar spirit_. The dreaded woman thus ceased to exist, but her powers for good or evil were transferred to her companion; and on pa.s.sing along the road from Burnley to Blackburn we can point out a farm-house at no great distance, with whose thrifty matron no neighbouring farmer will yet dare to quarrel."

This superst.i.tion respecting the reception of the spirit of the dying by inhaling the last breath, must have existed from a very remote antiquity. Psyche, the Greek personification of the soul, as a word, originally, simply meant breath. From the b.u.t.terfly being the emblem of Psyche, the word became the name of the beautiful insect likewise. The Zulus call a man's shadow his soul, which would seem to be a.n.a.logous to our churchyard ghost and the _umbra_ of the Romans. The Zulus hold that a dead body can cast no shadow, because that appurtenance departed from it at the close of life.

FOOTNOTES:

[23] A pig roasted whole, seasoned with spices, and basted with wine, was said to be "barbecued." The term is believed to have been imported from the West Indies.

[24] The Pendle witches, on leaving Malkin tower, mounted their familiar spirits, in the form of horses, and quickly vanished.

[25] Since the above was written, I have noticed, in Larwood and Hotten's "History of Signboards," a representation of a public-house "bush" copied from a MS. of the fourteenth century. The implement, in this instance, is evidently a common broom or besom. Hence it is not at all improbable that the Lancashire Benedicts but hang out the earliest known tavern or inn sign. The authors of the work referred to say: "The bush certainly must be counted amongst the most ancient and popular of signs. Traces of its use are not only found amongst Roman and other old world remains, but during the middle ages we have evidence of its display." Kelly says "the broom must originally have been supposed, like the sieve, to be used for some purpose or other in the economy of the upper regions." Perhaps in the brewing of the "heavenly soma," and hence its appropriateness as an emblem of "good liquor" of a terrestrial character.

CHAPTER VII.

FAIRIES AND BOGGARTS.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your _philosophy_!

_Shakspere._

In my youthful imagination, some forty odd years ago, "boggarts,"

ghosts, or spirits of one kind or another, in Lancashire, appeared, to use Falstaff's phrase, to be "as plentiful as blackberries." "Boggart,"

by some writers is regarded as the Lancashire cognomen for "Puck" or "Robin Goodfellow." Certainly there are, or were, many boggarts whose mischievous propensities and rude practical jokings remind us very forcibly of the eccentric and erratic goblin page to the fairy king, so admirably delineated by Shakspere in his "Midsummer Night's Dream":--

_Fairy_--Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite, Called Robin Goodfellow; are you not he That fright the maidens of the villagery; Skim milk; and sometimes labour in the quern, And bootless make the breathless housewife churn; And sometimes make the drink to bear no barm; Mislead night wanderers, laughing at their harm; Those that hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck: Are not you he?

_Puck_--Thou speakest aright; I am that merry wanderer of the night, I jest to Oberon and make him smile, When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal; And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab; And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, And on her withered dewlap pour the ale.

The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, Sometimes for three-foot stool mistaketh me.

Ben Jonson makes Robin Goodfellow say--

"Sometimes I meet them like a man, Sometimes an ox, sometimes a hound, And to a horse I turn me can, To trip and trot about them round.

But if to ride, My back they stride, More swift than wind away I go: O'er edge and lands, Through pools and ponds, I whirry laughing, Ho! ho! ho!"

There is some diversity and variety of colouring in the various fairy types presented in different localities, but they have sufficient in common to justify perfect faith in their near relationship, whether they are styled Peris, as in Persia, Pixies, as in Devonshire, Ginns, as in Arabia, Gnomes or Elves, amongst the Teutons, or "the Leprachaun" or "Good people," of the sister Island. The finest modern artistic realisation of the fairy kingdom is unquestionably to be found in Shakspere's "Midsummer Night's Dream." How strangely, yet how beautifully and consistently, has he there woven together his ethereal conceptions with the grosser, as well as with the more elevated aspect of our common humanity! How exquisite is the poetry in which the visions of his imaginations are embodied! The fairy-King Oberon thus describes his queen, t.i.tania's, bower:--

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, Where oxslips and the nodding violet grows; Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses and with eglantine; There sleeps t.i.tania, some time of the night, Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight, And there the snake throws her enamelled skin, Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in.

And again at the close of the play, Puck says--

Now it is the time of night, That the graves all gaping wide, Every one lets forth his sprite In the church-way paths to glide: And we fairies that do run By the triple Hecat's team, From the presence of the sun, Following darkness like a dream, Now are frolic.

Witches, fairies, ghosts, and boggarts seem to have become intimately amalgamated in the _repertoire_ of modern superst.i.tion. Doubtless many of them have a common origin, and are but separate developments, mythical or artistic, of the universal tendency of primitive peoples to personify, or render more tangible to the ruder sense, their conceptions of those forces of nature, the laws governing which are, to them, hidden in the delusive gloom of ignorance. "Feeorin" is a general term for all things of this character that create fear in the otherwise intrepid heart of a "Lancashire lad." Mr. Edwin Waugh, whose songs in the dialect are not more remarkable for their quaint humour and homely pathos than for their idiomatic truthfulness, aptly ill.u.s.trates the mingling of the various supernatural terrors to which I have referred, in his admirable ballad, "What ails thee, my son Robin." The mother, alarmed at the lad's melancholy mood, says, inquiringly:--

Neaw, arto fairy-stricken; Or arto gradely ill?

Or has...o...b..n wi' th' witches I'th cloof, at deep o'th neet?

Robin replies--

'Tisn't lung o'th feeorin'

That han to do wi' th' dule; There's nought at thus could daunt mo, I'th cloof, by neet nor day; It's yon blue een o' Mary's: They taen my life away.

Queen Mab appears to have been equally as mischievous an elf as Puck.

Shakspere says,--

This is that very Mab That plats the manes of horses in the night, And bakes the _elf-locks_ in foul s.l.u.ttish hairs, Which, once entangled, much misfortune bodes.

Mab, however, like Puck, seems to have had a large element of humour in her composition, which is delineated with marvellous grace and brilliancy in the celebrated speech of Mercutio, in "Romeo and Juliet."

Boggarts, in some cases, appear to have been anything but unwelcome guests. King James I., in his "Daemonologie," describes the spirit called a "brownie" as something that "appeared like a rough man, and haunted divers houses without doing any evile, but doing, as it were, necessarie turnes up and downe the house; yet some were so blinded as to beleeve that their house was all the sonsier, as they called it, that such spirits resorted there."

Mr. T. T. Wilkinson relates some good stories of Lancashire goblins, who are believed to have determined the sites of Rochdale, Burnley, Samlesbury, and some other churches, by removing the stones and scaffolding of the builders in the night time. There is likewise a legend of this cla.s.s in connection with the church at Winwich, near Warrington, and another at Whaley-bridge, in Derbyshire. Indeed, these goblin church builders are very common throughout the land. In some cases the sprite a.s.sumes the form of the arch-fiend himself. Referring to the famous boggart of Syke Lumb farm, near Blackburn, Mr. Wilkinson says:--

"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 marked disrespect, either from the farmer or his servants, the cream mugs are then 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, without 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, by invisible hands, they themselves are dragged down the stone stairs by the legs, one step at a time, after a more uncomfortable manner than we need describe."

Mr. Wilkinson relates an anecdote of a near relation of his own, who, although, "not more imbued with superst.i.tion than the majority," firmly believed that he had once seen "a real dwarf or fairy, without the use of any incantation. He had been amusing himself one summer evening on the top of Mellor Moor, near Blackburn, close to the remains of the Roman encampment, when his attention was arrested by the appearance of a dwarf-like man, attired in full hunting costume, with top boots and spurs, a green jacket, red hairy cap, and a thick hunting whip in his hand. He ran briskly along the moor for a considerable distance, when, leaping over a low stone wall, he darted down a steep declivity, and was soon lost to sight."

One of the best descriptions of a Lancashire boggart or bargaist[26]

that I have met with, was written by the late Crofton Croker, and published in Roby's "Traditions of Lancashire." I may just remark, _en pa.s.sant_, that the word "traditions," as applied to nearly the whole of these stories, is a sad misnomer. The tales might, perhaps with propriety, be termed _nouvelletes_, or little novels; but when put forth as "traditions," in the true acceptation of the term, they are worse than useless, for they are calculated equally to mislead both the antiquary and the collector of "folk lore." Croker makes the scene of his story what was once a retired and densely wooded dell, or deep valley, in the township of Blackley, near Manchester, called to this day, "Boggart Ho' Clough." This boggart sadly pestered a worthy farmer, named George Cheetham, by "scaring his maids, worrying his men, and frightening the poor children out of their senses, so that, at last, not even a mouse durst shew himself indoors at the farm, as he valued his whiskers, after the clock had struck twelve." This same boggart, however, had some jolly genial qualities. His voice, when he joined the household laughter, on merry tales being told and practical jokes indulged in, around the hearth at Christmastide, is described as "small and shrill," and as easily "heard above the rest, _like a baby's penny trumpet_." He began to regard himself at last as a "privileged inmate"

and conducted himself in the most extraordinary manner, s.n.a.t.c.hing the children's bread and b.u.t.ter out of their hands, and interfering with their porridge, milk, and other food. His "invisible hand" knocked the furniture about in the most approved modern style of goblin or spiritual manifestation. Yet, this mischievous propensity did not prevent him from occasionally performing some kindly acts, such as churning the cream and scouring the pans and kettles! Truly, he was a "tricksty sprite." Croker refers to one circ.u.mstance which he regards as "remarkable," and which will remind modern readers very distinctly of a "spiritual" exhibition which recently attracted much public attention. He says--"the stairs ascended from the kitchen; a part.i.tion of boards covered the ends of the steps, and formed a _closet_ beneath the staircase. From one of the boards of this part.i.tion a large round knot was accidently displaced, and one day the youngest of the children, while playing with the shoe-horn, stuck it into this knot-hole. Whether or not the aperture had been formed by the boggart as a peep-hole to watch the motions of the family, I cannot pretend to say. Some thought it was, for it was called the boggart's peep-hole; but others said that they had remembered it before the shrill laugh of the boggart was heard in the house. However this may have been, it is certain that the horn was ejected with surprising precision at the head of whoever put it there; and either in mirth or in anger the horn was darted forth with great velocity, and struck the poor child over the ear." To say the least of it, it is rather remarkable that the mere subst.i.tution of the words _structure_ or _cabinet_ for _closet_, and _trumpet_ for _horn_, to say nothing of the peculiar quality of the boggart's voice, should make the whole so eloquently suggestive of the doings of a certain "Mr. Ferguson" and his friends the Davenport Brothers, and other "spiritual manifestations"

recently so much in vogue. All this supernatural mountebanking was, it appears, taken in good part by Mr. Cheetham's family, and when the children or neighbours wished for a little excitement they easily found it in "laking," that is, playing, with this eccentric and pugnacious disembodied spirit.[27]

But Mr. Boggart eventually returned to his old avocations, and midnight noises again disturbed the repose of the inmates of the haunted house.

Pewter pots and earthen dishes were dashed to the floor, and yet, in the morning they were found perfectly uninjured, and in their usual places.

To such a pitch at last did matters reach, that George Cheetham and his family were observed one day by neighbour John Marshall sullenly following a cart that contained their household goods and chattels. What transpired is best told in Mr. Croker's own words:--

"'Well, Georgy, and soa you're leaving th'owd house at last,' said Marshall.

"'Heigh, Johnny, my lad, I'm in a manner forced to it, thou sees,'

replied the other, 'for that wearyfu' boggart torments us soa, we can neither rest neet nor day for't. It seems loike to have a malice agains t' young uns, an' it ommost kills my poor dame at thoughts on't, and soa, thou sees, we're forced to flit like.'

"He had got thus far in his complaint when, behold, a shrill voice, from a deep upright _churn_, the topmost utensil on the cart, called out, 'Ay, ay, neighbour, we're flitting, you see.'

"'Od rot thee,' exclaimed George, 'If I'd known thou'd been flitting too, I wadn't ha' stirred a peg. Nay, nay, it's no use, Mally,' he continued, turning to his wife, 'we may as weel turn back again to th'owd house, as be tormented in another not so convenient.'"