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| Cumbria is the place to boggle your Hallowe'en mind | Cumbria is the place to boggle your Hallowe'en mind |
| (8 days later) | |
| Halloween is upon us once more. In olden days the residents of Whitehaven tied bunches of rowan onto their front doors to ward off the witches at this time of year. Today, they have forsaken that tradition for the one of pinning a "No trick or treat" police-issued poster on the door. Both are probably equally ineffective at warding off the town's ne'er-do-wells. | Halloween is upon us once more. In olden days the residents of Whitehaven tied bunches of rowan onto their front doors to ward off the witches at this time of year. Today, they have forsaken that tradition for the one of pinning a "No trick or treat" police-issued poster on the door. Both are probably equally ineffective at warding off the town's ne'er-do-wells. |
| Ghosts are known in West Cumbria but more prevalent are boggles - a sort of 'ghost-plus'. It's difficult to define precisely what a boggle is or what it looks like. Whitehaven's New Town Boggle appears in the shape of a large black dog and, if heard howling outside someone's house, portends tragedy or disaster. The town's other boggle is a "tall lady, about the height of a church steeple, with a most beautiful face, but no head" (at least according to The Cumberland Pacquet newspaper of 1811). She wanders the streets having apparently been murdered by her lover. Girls are told if they either see or hear this boggle they are doomed to live out their lives as spinsters. | Ghosts are known in West Cumbria but more prevalent are boggles - a sort of 'ghost-plus'. It's difficult to define precisely what a boggle is or what it looks like. Whitehaven's New Town Boggle appears in the shape of a large black dog and, if heard howling outside someone's house, portends tragedy or disaster. The town's other boggle is a "tall lady, about the height of a church steeple, with a most beautiful face, but no head" (at least according to The Cumberland Pacquet newspaper of 1811). She wanders the streets having apparently been murdered by her lover. Girls are told if they either see or hear this boggle they are doomed to live out their lives as spinsters. |
| The 19th Century historian Jeremiah Sullivan said boggles could be: | The 19th Century historian Jeremiah Sullivan said boggles could be: |
| Any shape - human, animal or composite - or just a noise. Large dogs, white horses, unaccountable cats, white rabbits. | Any shape - human, animal or composite - or just a noise. Large dogs, white horses, unaccountable cats, white rabbits. |
The boggle that haunted a farmhouse near Orton in the mid-19th century and | The boggle that haunted a farmhouse near Orton in the mid-19th century and |
| turn'd the clock the wrang side up, And meade the house aw joggle | turn'd the clock the wrang side up, And meade the house aw joggle |
would be recognised today as a poltergeist. It threw chairs, the 'yeck kist' (oak chest) and 'auld kale pot' around the house - much to the delight of the hundreds of sightseers who came in search of this famed boggle. But on the road between Grasmere and Keswick, the Park boggle was described as anything from a phantom fire on the fellside to a ghostly slag heap. Given the variety of descriptions, perhaps Jeremiah Sullivan came up with the best definition when he said boggles were: | would be recognised today as a poltergeist. It threw chairs, the 'yeck kist' (oak chest) and 'auld kale pot' around the house - much to the delight of the hundreds of sightseers who came in search of this famed boggle. But on the road between Grasmere and Keswick, the Park boggle was described as anything from a phantom fire on the fellside to a ghostly slag heap. Given the variety of descriptions, perhaps Jeremiah Sullivan came up with the best definition when he said boggles were: |
| Anything expected to appear where they have no business. | Anything expected to appear where they have no business. |
| If you're looking for a Cumbrian boggle then perhaps that stretch of the A591 between Keswick and Grasmere is the best place to start. Not only does it have the Park boggle but you might also see the Armboth boggle. This legend tells of a bride-to-be murdered on Halloween at Armboth House. The house no longer exists having been 'drowned' along with neighbouring homes to create Thirlmere Reservoir at the end of the 19th century. But Harriet Martineau writing in 1855 said: | If you're looking for a Cumbrian boggle then perhaps that stretch of the A591 between Keswick and Grasmere is the best place to start. Not only does it have the Park boggle but you might also see the Armboth boggle. This legend tells of a bride-to-be murdered on Halloween at Armboth House. The house no longer exists having been 'drowned' along with neighbouring homes to create Thirlmere Reservoir at the end of the 19th century. But Harriet Martineau writing in 1855 said: |
| Lights are seen there at night, people say, and the bells ring; and just as the bells set off ringing, a large dog is seen swimming across the lake. The plates and dishes clatter; and the table is spread by unseen hands. On a bright moonlit night, the spectator who looks towards it from a distance of two or three miles sees the light reflected from its windows into the lake, and, when a slight fog gives a reddish hue to the light, the whole night easily be taken for an illumination of a great mansion. And this mansion seems to vanish as you approach. | Lights are seen there at night, people say, and the bells ring; and just as the bells set off ringing, a large dog is seen swimming across the lake. The plates and dishes clatter; and the table is spread by unseen hands. On a bright moonlit night, the spectator who looks towards it from a distance of two or three miles sees the light reflected from its windows into the lake, and, when a slight fog gives a reddish hue to the light, the whole night easily be taken for an illumination of a great mansion. And this mansion seems to vanish as you approach. |
| One boggle being remembered this Halloween in Whitehaven is the Muncaster boggle which, like many others, has some root in truth. It is the spectre of Mary Bragg - a young lady who did exist and who was found drowned in 1805. The inquest into her death was reported in local newspapers and nothing untoward was mentioned about her demise, simply that she was "found drowned". But the legend seems to have grown out of local knowledge about who was really responsible for her death - a conspiracy between four or five local folk. A chap book published in 1884 about the boggle tells how these conspirators all met a grisly end: being hanged for another murder, themselves being found drowned or going mad. The chap book is being exhibited to the public this Halloween at Whitehaven Library by Whitehaven Archive and Local Studies Centre who now preserve the document. Also at the library that day will be Taffy Thomas, the UK's first storyteller laureate based at Grasmere. He'll be telling a few ghostly tales of his own. | One boggle being remembered this Halloween in Whitehaven is the Muncaster boggle which, like many others, has some root in truth. It is the spectre of Mary Bragg - a young lady who did exist and who was found drowned in 1805. The inquest into her death was reported in local newspapers and nothing untoward was mentioned about her demise, simply that she was "found drowned". But the legend seems to have grown out of local knowledge about who was really responsible for her death - a conspiracy between four or five local folk. A chap book published in 1884 about the boggle tells how these conspirators all met a grisly end: being hanged for another murder, themselves being found drowned or going mad. The chap book is being exhibited to the public this Halloween at Whitehaven Library by Whitehaven Archive and Local Studies Centre who now preserve the document. Also at the library that day will be Taffy Thomas, the UK's first storyteller laureate based at Grasmere. He'll be telling a few ghostly tales of his own. |
| Current readers of the Northerner may be tempted to give a wry smile at the superstitious beliefs of our ancestors and give thanks to the scientists and sceptics who brushed them aside in favour of cold reasoning. But such smugness should be resisted. As Jeremiah Sullivan pointed out in 1857: | Current readers of the Northerner may be tempted to give a wry smile at the superstitious beliefs of our ancestors and give thanks to the scientists and sceptics who brushed them aside in favour of cold reasoning. But such smugness should be resisted. As Jeremiah Sullivan pointed out in 1857: |
| The fault of the present age is, not that it believes too much, but that it believes too little. Its illuminati have rejected from their creeds, not only the fables of giants, fairies and necromancers, but the truths of revelation, and the facts of sacred history. They wish to reform our politics, our philosophy, and our manners, and yet, would take away that religion to which we are indebted for our public and domestic happiness. Were a missionary, from this new school, to visit those sequestered parts of Cumberland where the superstitions of our ancestors are preserved in all their purity, what stubborn tenets would he have to contend with. What shades of mental darkness would his philosophy have to penetrate! In almost every cottage he would see the Bible, and the histories of giants, fairies, witches, and apparitions, occupying the same shelf and, equally, sharing the belief and engaging the attention of their rustic readers. The effects, indeed, of these sacred and fabulous records are different: the one shedding over the mind a pleasing serenity; the other, a sombre melancholy. | The fault of the present age is, not that it believes too much, but that it believes too little. Its illuminati have rejected from their creeds, not only the fables of giants, fairies and necromancers, but the truths of revelation, and the facts of sacred history. They wish to reform our politics, our philosophy, and our manners, and yet, would take away that religion to which we are indebted for our public and domestic happiness. Were a missionary, from this new school, to visit those sequestered parts of Cumberland where the superstitions of our ancestors are preserved in all their purity, what stubborn tenets would he have to contend with. What shades of mental darkness would his philosophy have to penetrate! In almost every cottage he would see the Bible, and the histories of giants, fairies, witches, and apparitions, occupying the same shelf and, equally, sharing the belief and engaging the attention of their rustic readers. The effects, indeed, of these sacred and fabulous records are different: the one shedding over the mind a pleasing serenity; the other, a sombre melancholy. |
| Maybe try it for yourselves... Alan Cleaver is a freelance journalist and writer based in Whitehaven. | Maybe try it for yourselves... Alan Cleaver is a freelance journalist and writer based in Whitehaven. |
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