‘The Five Jars’ by M R James

M R James in 1900

Just a short note for the New Year. I have just finished reading a collection of M R James’ Ghost Stories (Gothic fantasy- an anthology of new and classic tales, Flame Tree Publishing 2021). The last of these, The Five Jars, is a charming faery story, rather at odds with the dread and horror of James’ usual ghost stories and, as a result, classed by the editor, Robert Lloyd Parry, under ‘Curios.’

The Five Jars contains much that readers of this blog will immediately recognise and appreciate. A man is sitting by a river on a sunny afternoon when he begins to hear voices in the water’s flow; following the messages, he traces the stream to its source, where he finds a stone box buried in a small hill. This opens only when moonlight falls upon it and, inside, five jars of magical ointment are revealed. The first of these, when applied, allows the man to see the faery folk living in his garden. This idea of, of course, a very ancient one and is the commonest means of achieving second sight. The other jars progressively give the man the power of hearing and conversing with the faeries, seeing into the past and so on.

The faeries call themselves the ‘Right People.’ Their homes rise up out of the ground at dusk and sink back down at midnight; they are threatened by malign wizards who want to steal the five jars and who can shape-shift, produce misleading fogs and are repelled by iron. Their attempts to steal the magical items from the narrator of the story add the sense of menace which pervades James’ other horror stories.

The Five Jars is a delightfully written and concise short story. It’s not James’ only faery piece; I first came across his work several years ago when I read After Dark in the Playing Fields, an amusing little tale set in Windsor and involving the faeries mischievously tormenting owls. On reading more of his work, too, I realised I had seen a dramatisation of The Ash Tree on the BBC in 1975, when it was shown as a ‘Ghost Story of Christmas.’ That I still remember it nearly fifty years later is testament to James’ scary skills. His Martin’s Close was broadcast as another episode in the same series at Christmas 2019. These are both tales of witchcraft and retribution.

Enjoy the stories!

Born with the Second Sight

Second Sight tapestry by Chrissie Freeth

I’ve often discussed how humans (and animals) can accidentally acquire the ‘second sight,’ the ability to see faeries, most typically through the inadvertent application to their own eyes of an ointment that is intended for the use solely of the faeries themselves. This is a violation of faery trust- as well as an invasion of faery privacy- and as such virtually always attracts punishment and loss for the offending human.

The Experience of Second Sight

There are, though, cases of mortals who are born with an ability to see faery-kind. Those of us with an innate power of second sight have been known by different names around Britain and across the ages. In the south-west of England, they may be called ‘gifted.’ The ‘second sight’ is a term used in Scotland, the Gaelic phrase used for a gifted person in the Highlands being tabhaisver or ‘seer.’ The Reverend Robert Kirk, in his Secret Commonwealth of Elves, provided a lengthy and useful discussion of the subject. He cited from a letter written by Lord Tarbett, who had enquired into the subject and had found:

“that Men, Women, and Children, indistinctly, were subject to it, and Children, whose Parents were not. Sometimes People came to age, who had it not when young, nor could any tell by what Means [it was] produced. It is a Trouble to most of them who are subject to it, and they would be rid of it any Rate if they could. The Sight is of no long Duration, only continuing so long as they can keep their Eyes steady without twinkling. The hardy therefore fix their look, that they may see the longer; but the timorous see only Glances, [because] their Eyes always twinkle at the first Sight of the Object. That which generally is seen by them are the Species of living Creatures and inanimate Things, which are in Motion, such as Ships…”

Secret Commonwealth, ‘Lord Tarbett’s Relation’

By this account, the second sight is rarely welcomed by those who have it but- fortunately- it does not last long and it requires some determination on the part of the individual to extend it. Blinking- and thereby losing sight (if only for an instant) is sufficient to break the vision. The English writer John Aubrey also made enquiry into the second sight, writing to various Scottish correspondents to ask for information, which he published in his Miscellanies (1696). The nature of the vision was described to him as being like seeing things as if they “visibly acted before their eyes; sometimes within, and sometimes without-doors, as in a glass [mirror].” 

Two separate writers confirmed to Aubrey what Tarbett had written of the nature of experiencing second sight: “It is commonly talked by all I spoke with, that it is troublesome; and they would gladly be freed from it, but cannot: only I heard lately of a man very much troubled in his soul therewith, and by serious begging of God [for] deliverance from it, at length lost the faculty of the second-sight.” Later, though, Aubrey’s informant added that “it appears that the objects of this knowledge are not sad and dismal events only, but joyful and prosperous ones also” (which is reassuring). A second correspondent repeated that “It is a thing very troublesome to them that have it, and would gladly be rid of it. For if the object be a thing that is so terrible, they are seen to sweat and tremble, and shreek at the apparition. At other times they laugh, and tell the thing chearfully, just according as the thing is pleasant or astonishing.”

During the following century, Dr Samuel Johnson, whilst travelling in the Western Isles of Scotland, gathered information on the second sight and had this to say of the experience: “This receptive faculty, for power it cannot be called, is neither voluntary nor constant. The appearances have no dependence upon choice: they cannot be summoned, detained, or recalled. The impression is sudden, and the effect often painful.” Largely, then, second sight seems to be an unwilled and unwelcome ability, something we might only advisedly term a ‘gift.’

Returning to Lord Tarbett’s account, as recorded by Kirk, he then concluded:

“These are Matters of Fact, which I assure yow they are truely related. But these, and all others that occurred to me, by Information or otherwise, could never lead me into a remote Conjecture of the Cause of so extraordinary a Phenomenon. Whether it be a Quality in the Eyes of some People in these Parts, concurring with a Quality in the Air; whether such Species be every where, tho’ not seen by the Want of Eyes so qualified, or from whatever other Cause, I must leave to the Inquiry of clearer judgements than mine. But a Hint may be taken… from the common Opinion that young Infants (unsullied with many Objects) do see Apparitions, which were not seen by those of elder Years; as likewise from this- that severall did see the Second Sight when in the Highlands or Isles, yet when transported to live in other Countreys, especially in America, they quite lose this Qualitie, as was told me by a Gentleman who knew some of them in Barbadoes, who did see no Vision there, altho he knew them to be Seers when they lived in the Isles of Scotland.”

Secret Commonwealth, ‘Lord Tarbett’s Relation’

This second paragraph is even more interesting than the previous one quoted. Few people- even those possessed of it- understood how they came by the powers. Heredity did not seem to be essential; some acquired the sight at puberty whereas others had it, albeit weakly, during infancy. Then again, some believed that the purer, innocent eyes of youth were better able to see faeries than adults. Most oddly and surprisingly of all, there seemed to be some measure of environmental influence upon it: is this a matter of diet, atmospheric conditions, or (for want of a better term) ‘magical influence’?

The Nature of Second Sight

The Reverend Kirk himself had a good deal to say on second sight, in remarks that are scattered across the text of the Secret Commonwealth. Firstly, he noted in chapter 2 that “Seers, or Men of of the Second Sight, (Females being seldome so qualified) have very terrifying encounters with [the faeries].” This gender bias is perhaps surprising, but noteworthy; Kirk repeated it again later in chapter 14, mentioning a Hebridean woman who had the second sight and was “it seems ane Exception from the generall Rule.” In the next chapter Kirk referred again to “Men of that exalted Sight (whither by Art or Nature).” We’ll return in a moment to the issue of how the power is acquired, but in chapter 4 he described how the faeries may “bereave [people] of both the naturall and acquired Sights in the twinkling of ane Eye, (both these Sights, where once they come, being in the same Organ and inseparable).” What’s significant is the firm belief that the second sight, whether innate or obtained through the wrongful use of ointment, can be taken away.

Apparently, there are limits on what a person with second sight can detect, for when discussing the very fine material spun by faeries, Kirk had to admit that it was impossible to determine whether it was done by manual craft or by means of magic “since it transcended all the Senses of the Seere to discerne…” (chapter 5).

Kirk differed from Tarbett in his view of the seer’s degree of control over the second sight. The Lord was under the impression that the visions always came unbidden and could be alarming. Kirk, however, stated that:

“The tabhaisver, or Seer, that corresponds with this kind of Familiars, can bring them with a Spell to appear to himselfe or others when he pleases… He is not terrified with their Sight when he calls them, but seeing them in a surpryze (as often he does) frights him extreamly. And glaid would he be [to be] quit of such, for the hideous Spectacles seen among them…”

Secret Commonwealth, chapter 7

Despite the fact that seers can apparently choose to open themselves to a faery vision, it appears that it was also Kirk’s opinion (if I interpret his rather convoluted grammar correctly) that seers did not have much control over the content or progress of their visions. As a result, they could not investigate matters determined beforehand but instead could only interpret what happened to be revealed to them: “The men of that second sight do not discover strange Things when asked, but at Fits and Raptures, as if inspyred with some Genius at that Instant, which before did lurk in or about them” (chapter 8). Kirk appeared to confirm this in the following chapter, in which he stated that future events might be revealed to “a Man of the Second Sight, [by] perceaving the Operations of these forecasting invisible People among us, (indulged thorow a stupendious Providence to give Warnings of some remarkable Events, either in the Air, Earth, or Waters).” In other words, the faeries may choose (or perhaps are divinely inspired) to reveal future events, but they cannot be asked to do so and would rebuff any such enquiries. 

Acquiring Second Sight

As we have seen, Kirk considered second sight to be either “natural or acquired”- that is, either innate or obtained by magical means. He described the latter process:

“There be odd Solemnities [for] investing a Man with the Priviledges of the whole Mistery of this Second Sight. He must run a Tedder [a rope or tether] of Hair (which bound a Corps to the Bier) in a Helix about his Midle, from End to End; then bow his Head downwards (as did Elijah, 1 Kings, 18. 42) and look back thorough his Legs untill he see a Funerall advance till the People cross two Marches; or look thus back thorough a Hole where was a Knot of Fir. But, if the Wind change Points while the Hair Tedder is ty’d about him, he is in Peril of his Lyfe.”

Kirk, Secret Commonwealth, chapter 12

This is the macabre ritual necessary to obtain the sight; we might note as well at this point that the faeries themselves use hair tedders for malign purposes, such as stealing milk. However, Kirk disclosed (as I have discussed before) that there was a much easier way: the second sight is temporarily transferrable by touch:

“The usewall Method for a curious Person to get a transient Sight of this otherwise invisible Crew of Subterraneans (if impotently and over rashly sought), is to put his [left Foot under the Wizard’s right] Foot, and the Seer’s Hand is put on the Inquirer’s Head, who is to look over the Wizard’s right Shoulder (which has ane ill Appearance, as if by this Ceremony ane implicit Surrender were made of all betwixt the Wizard’s Foot and his Hand, ere the Person can be admitted a privado to the Airt); then will he see a Multitude of Wights, like furious hardie Men, flocking to him haistily from all Quarters, as thick as Atoms in the Air; which are no Nonentities or Phantasms, Creatures proceiding from ane affrighted Apprehensione, confused or crazed Sense, but Realities, appearing to a stable Man in his awaking Sense, and enduring a rationall Tryall of their Being. These through Fear strick him breathless and speechless….”

Kirk, Secret Commonwealth, chapter 12

Kirk then explained (with extensive Biblical citations) how the seer might explain and justify his powers and comfort the terrified witness. Transmission by contact is something that can happen with a faery too- Thomas the Rhymer laid his head in the lap of the faery queen and saw sights previously hidden from him; in one Welsh story placing a foot on a faery’s gave a farmer the second sight. John Aubrey likewise confirmed that “some of those who had the second-sight, that if at any time when they see those strange sights, they set their foot upon the foot of another who hath not the second-sight, that other will for that time see what they are seeing.”

Interestingly, though, the faeries are able to transmit the second sight by more indirect means. A member of the Maclachan clan in Glennahurich once captured a glaistig who’d been killing the newborn foals in his herd. She won her freedom by promising him the gift of “the vision of the two worlds.” The promise (or deal) was fulfilled when he subsequently caught a fish; whilst cooking it, he burned his finger and, putting it in his mouth, he found the second sight had been conferred (we might further note that although the glaistig promised the man prosperity for himself and his descendants, this did not apply to the second sight). Cromek recorded a tale of a Nithsdale youth who got the sight by drinking a glass of faery wine inside a knoll. Elspeth Reoch from Orkney, who was accused of witchcraft in 1616, said that two faery men had advised her to roast an egg and to use the “sweat” of it to wash her hands and then to rub her eyes; thereby she got the sight of anything she wanted to know. A yet more indirect form of transmission occurred in the case of Isobel Sinclair of Eyemouth, tried for witchcraft in 1633, who said she had been “controlled with the Pharie” on a number of occasions, whereby she had received the second sight. I assume Isobel experienced some sort of possession or trance.

The Reverend Kirk seemed to suggest that a divine purpose was again at play here, for “Men of the Second Sight (being designed to give warnings against secret Engyns) surpass the ordinary Vision of other Men, which is a native Habit in some, descended from their Ancestors, [or is] acquired as ane artificiall Improvement of their natural Sight in others… for some have this Second Sight transmitted from Father to Sone thorow the whole Family, without their own Consent or others’ teaching, proceeding only from a Bounty of Providence it seems, or by Compact, or by a complexionall Quality of the first Acquirer.” Here Kirk largely concurred with the opinion of Lord Tarbett that hereditary second sight exists, but that its nature and occurrence was poorly comprehended, even by those gifted with it. 

Being a church minister, Kirk was naturally inclined to prefer a godly explanation of the phenomenon. His view appeared to be that information was first divinely imparted to the faery-folk and that they might then transmit it to mortals, especially those who had been chosen purposefully to be recipients. John Aubrey was also told that only “godly” and “virtuous” men possessed the gift (and that most felt it to be sinful and had earnestly prayed to have the gift removed). Even so, Kirk also referred to the possibility of a “compact”- a bargain or contract- with the faeries to receive information as well as to the individual seer’s “complexional quality”- what we might more naturally describe today as their genetic make-up. He hedged his bets, here, I’d say, tacitly admitting to his ignorance. I wonder, too, whether the mention of ‘compacts’ left open the possibility (in case Kirk was mistaken) that what was actually involved here was some sort of deal with the devil (which many of Kirk’s fellow ministers would surely have argued).

John Aubrey had some interesting things to relay on the acquisition of the sight:

“That it is by succession, I cannot learn; how they came by it, it is hard to know, neither will they tell; which if they did, they are sure of their strokes from an invisible hand. One instance I heard of one Allen Miller, being in company with some gentlemen, having gotten a little more than ordinary of that strong liquor they were drinking, began to tell stories and strange passages he had been at: but the said Allen was suddenly removed to the farther end of the house, and was there almost strangled; recovering a little, and coming to the place where he was before, they asked him, what it was that troubled him so? He answered he durst not tell; for he had told too much already…”

It appears that Miller was lucky not to have lost his sight (or perhaps his life) completely as a result of his reckless indiscretions. As we know, talking freely about faery gifts, of money or otherwise, is almost bound to lead to their loss. Aubrey’s correspondent then continued: “Some say [the second sight is received] by compact with the Devil; some say by converse with those daemons we call fairies. I have heard that those that have this faculty of the second-sight have offered to teach it to such as were curious to know it; upon such and such conditions they would teach them; but their proffers were rejected.” 

A second correspondent affirmed to Aubrey that second sight was indeed hereditary and that on the Isle of Skye “several families had it by succession, descending from parents to children, and as yet there be many there that have it in that way.” However, he went on by adding that “the only way to be freed from it is, when a woman hath it herself, and is married to a man that hath it also; if in the very act of delivery, upon the first sight of the child’s head, it be baptized, the same is free from it; if not, he hath it all his life; by which, it seems, it is a thing troublesome and uneasy to them that have it, and such as they would fain be rid of.”

Second Sight & the Faeries

Over time, the scope of people’s understanding of second sight was expanded from solely the ability to see the Good Folk into a general ability to predict future events and deaths. John Aubrey several times alluded to this: in one letter the writer said of one alleged seer that “whether this man saw any more than Brownie and Meg Mullach, I am not very sure; some say, he saw more continually, and would often be very angry-like, and something troubled…; others affirm he saw these two continually, and sometimes many more.” This writer then continued by explaining that the Highlanders “generally term this second-sight in [Gaelic] Taishi-taraughk, and such as have it Taishatrin, from Taish, which is properly a shadowy substance, or such naughty and imperceptible thing as can only, or rather scarcely, be discerned by the eye but not caught by the hands: for which they assigned it to Bugles or Ghosts, so that a Taishtar is one that converses with ghosts or spirits, or as they commonly call them, the Fairies or Fairy-Folks. Others call these men Phissicin, from Phis, which is properly fore-sight, or fore-knowledge.” There was therefore a distinction to be made between the faery second sight and the fis, or visions, of other events taking place elsewhere or yet to occur.

Wary, Dumb & Dangerous- Some More Thoughts on Faery Names

A Redcap by rather_drawn

In my last posting I examined how human prejudices can be revealed by our names for types of faery being.  In fact, some of the labels used for female wills of the wisp may actually tell us even more about human male chauvinism than they do about our opinions of faery characters.

The reason that these names have to be provided by human-kind is that the faeries are highly secretive and defensive about their names for themselves. This determined preservation of their anonymity is not to be mistaken as obsessive privacy, but as protection of the magical power that can be invested in an identity. A name can take on the potency of a spell in the right circumstances.

In this post, I’m going to consider just a handful of northern British faery beings and the names applied to them, to see what light may be cast on our knowledge of and interactions with them.

• the redcap is one of a number of malign supernatural beings known along the Scottish Borders. The redcaps live in old ruins; anyone caught out of doors by bad weather when travelling who attempts to take shelter in one of the crumbling structures risks being killed. The redcap is said to look like a well-armed and armoured old man with large teeth. It’s said to be hopeless to attempt to try fight off such a formidable and implacable attacker, but use of elements of the Christian faith as a charm against him, reciting a passage of scripture or making the sign of the cross, will drive him away. Most distinctively, he wears a red cap which he dyes in the blood of his victims. Plainly, his name is merely descriptive and serves as an alert to travellers who might encounter him; 
• the English brownie and Scots broonie bear other descriptive names; they very simply reflect the shaggy look of these creatures. What’s particularly notable about the brownie is that fact that, despite its long term association with humankind- working and even living in their homes- we know the personal names of almost none of them. Aiken Drum, the brownie of Blednoch in Galloway, is almost the sole exception;
• the dunter is very similar to the redcap; he also dwells in ruined pele towers. This goblin isn’t so actively violent as the former; instead, he makes a sound like the stamping of flax or the grinding of barley and, if this gets louder or lasts longer than normal, it foretells some tragedy. It is this thumping noise that gives the being the name that we mortals use: to ‘dunt’ in northern English and Scots simply means to bang or hit;
• the powrie- this is an alternative name for the dunter. So far as I can discern, the name seems to be derived from the noun ‘pow’ with the sense of a blow- and, as such, it’s just another way of referring to the rhythmic noise associated with him;
• the dunnie may be thought of as a species of faery horse. He’s a shapeshifting spirit who is sometimes seen in semi-human form but who most frequently appears as a pony or donkey. The tricks of the Hazelrigg Dunnie of Northumberland included taking on the form of farmers’ horses; he might throw his unsuspecting riders into fords or streams or, when yoked for ploughing, would obediently perform a day’s work, until suddenly shedding his harness and galloping off at high speed. The name simply seems to describe the beast- a brown coloured horse: in Northumberland and Yorkshire ‘dunny’ means either drab-coloured or a pale horse; it also has a meaning of ‘dull’ or ‘stupid’ which might be a possible additional sense; and,
• the doonie is the Scottish Lowland equivalent of the English dunnie. The name appears to be the Scots pronunciation of ‘dunnie’ and to have the same meaning. Seen in the form of a pony or as a kind of brownie- either an old man or woman- she is found in the Border regions of Dumfriesshire, Nithsdale and the Borders. She lives in the wilderness and once caught and saved a young man who had fallen over a cliff whilst out hunting rock doves. Even so, he was warned not to seek prey there again- or else ‘doonie’ might not be there to save him. The Brown Man of the Muirs is a related male faery guardian of the wild beasts on the Scottish Borders, known for protecting deer on the moors. His name is obviously even more literal and plain that the doonie’s.

As this list indicates, many faery names that might- on first encounter- be assumed to be familiar, personal names actually turn out to be plain descriptions and nothing more than that. With the brownies, our ignorance of their own names for themselves would certainly seem to be a tribute to their discretion and secrecy. With others, their solitary habits in remote locations must be a major contributing factor- although the dunnie’s habit of appearing as a quadruped and the redcap’s homicidal tendencies also prevent us finding out much about them…

Jenny, Jill & Jack- spirit lights and sexist slurs?

Will of the Wisp, E. Spangenberg, 1914

Wills of the wisp are a very special supernatural phenomenon in Britain. They are related to the standard faery families, yet distinct and independent. It was this parallel but slightly detached relationship that caused me to deal with them in my 2020 book Beyond Faery, rather than discussing them in Faery or British Fairies.

Like their faery cousins, wills of the wisp are individualised in most cases. They are given names, sometimes pertaining to a ‘tribe’ or group such as Lantern Men, Hobby Lanterns, and the Syleham Lamps, or they more commonly have personal names. These are both male and female. The male wills of the wisp include Friar Rush, Mad Crisp, Dicke a Tuesday, Jacky Lantern, Jemmy Burty, Hob o’Lantern, or Hoberdy’s Lantern. The female names- my special interest here- include Kitty with a Wisp, Kit with the Canstick and Peg o’ Lantern. As will be observed, these names mostly refer to the light itself- the rush or wisp that forms the wick- or to the container for the light- the candlestick or enclosed lamp. The Cornish pixie or will of the wisp Joan the Wad (companion of Jacky Lantern) numbers amongst these; her ‘wad’ refers to the bundle of straws or grass stems that are lit to provide illumination. Her first name, though, leads us on to new avenues of enquiry.

A lot of female faery beings have- for some reason- first names beginning with ‘J’ or a softened ‘G.’ Jenny Greenteeth is probably the best known; we might note that in another Cornish folktale Jenny Permuen is a human girl who gets involved with a faery widower in a story very like that of Cherry of Zennor. Now, two very memorable female wills of the wisp are Gyl Burnt-Tayle and Lancashire’s Jenny Burnt Arse.

In 1654, in his Pleasant Notes on Don Quixote, Edmund Gayton made spoke dismissively of those who are alarmed by apparitions that are “only Ignes Fatui, and ’tis wonder that Sancho [Panza] did not follow ‘um up and downe the Chase, instead of Will with the Wispe, or Gyl burnt tayle.” Gayton (1608-66) was born in London, so perhaps his ‘Gyl’ is a southern English term for the sprite. Her first name is of particular interest. ‘Gill’ in early modern England was a term for a wanton woman- and, more generically, for any woman. In the north of England ‘gilliver’ had the sense of a ‘loose’ or lusty female. Some readers may recall that Jili Frwtan is a Welsh female faery name with a comparably poor connotation. ‘Jenny’ seems to be another generic female label, often applied to small birds and insects, such as the wren, the tit or the cranefly.

The first name, therefore, seems to be familiar, jocular and, very often derogatory. The second part, Burnt Tail or Burnt Arse, is very definitely not complimentary. It’s probably safest to assume that the primary signification of the ‘burned’ element is that it refers to the material presumed to be burned in the lamp; person and fuel are united, as with Joan the Wad. Nonetheless, I think there’s probably an insulting sexual undertone as well. Gill’s arse is a sexual feature that’s singled out for comment; we know, of course, that the contemptuous, sexist “piece of arse” and “bit of tail” survive in the modern English language as depersonalising terms to refer to young women. What’s more, in early modern English “burning” or “brenning” could indicate that the person described had a venereal disease, which makes me wonder if the nickname compounded the senses of ‘wanton’ and ‘sexual’ with a further slur. I’ve previously described something of the faery female’s reputation for uninhibited sexuality, something that intrigued- and possibly scared- human males, and I’d say that these nicknames for wills of the wisp are a good example of this- ostensibly jocular, but demeaning and, very possibly, defensive, at the same time.

The Hobyahs- hate and horror in the house

The Hobyahs is a fairy tale collected by Mr S. V. Proudfit, in Perth in central Scotland. It was included by the folklorist Joseph Jacobs in his collection of More English Fairy Tales (1893).

The plot of the story can be summarised as follows. A man, woman, girl, and little dog lived in a house made of hemp-stalks (this is significant as these plants are often used by faeries for flight: they mount them and declare th spell ‘horse and hattock’). The hobyahs came for several nights to the house, shouting “Hobyah! Hobyah! Hobyah! Tear down the hemp-stalks, eat up the old man and woman, and carry off the little girl!” (perhaps this animosity is provoked by the human appropriation of the stalks, which the faery band wanted).

Over several nights, the dog barked of the creatures and scared them off, but the old man- not appreciating that the family was being protected- was angry at its barking and after repeated nights during which his sleep was disturbed by the dog, he successively cut off its tail, then its legs, then its head. The dog’s death meant that the hobyahs were then able to tear down the house unhindered; they ate the old man and woman, and carried off the girl in a bag. The bag was hung on a peg at the faeries’ home and was punched and mocked. Failing to release the girl, the hobyahs then went to sleep, as they slept during daytime in a reversal of human habits. A passing man heard the child’s cries for help and rescued her and took her home, substituting his large hound for her in the sack. When the hobyahs opened this the next day, the dog ate them all- so there are no more now.

Jacobs observed that the hobyahs, though now destroyed, resembled “the bogies or spirits of the comma bacillus”- a comment upon the shape seen in the illustrations by John Batten. As for the name, we should note that the Denham Tracts include mention of faery beings called hobgoblins, hobby-lanthorns (a type of will of the wisp) and hobbits. The first two may derive from a nickname for Robert and thence from a name for the devil; the latter term is more problematic but might derive from a Welsh word meaning a small measure of grain (hobaid) or perhaps from the name for a falcon, hobby or hobet. The sense of something small may be the key here.

Folklore expert Katharine Briggs likened the hobyahs to nursery bogies, but cautioned that there was “no sign that [they] were objects of real belief.” She compares the story to the ghost/ horror story ‘The Old Man in the White House.’ The two tales share the effect of cumulative ‘incantations’ but, to me, the better comparison with other British faerylore figures seems to be with a boggart or some of the more threatening brownie types. They want to get into the house, but they don’t seem to have any longer term connection too it or to the family, so that their animosity seems to be innate, the main part of their characters as bogies or bogles who are preternaturally antagonistic to humankind.

For more details of the ‘horse and hattock’ spell see my Faery Magic Powers and for more information on the ‘bad brownies,’ consult my British Brownies.