Showing posts with label Tees. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tees. Show all posts

Friday, 13 November 2015

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY - The Headless Hobgoblin of Neasham


From its source in the mountains and forests of the Pennines, the River Tees has many twists and turns as it makes its way to the sea, with dozens of little villages and towns dotted along its banks. Unsurprisingly as folks have lived by its sides for centuries, the ancient waterway has a huge wealth of legends and folklore. Previously in this series of little articles we have made mention of Peg Powler, a predatory horror that lived in its depths around Darlington, and of the presentation of a dragon slaying falchion to each new Bishop of Durham at a bridge over its waters in Croft. However just a little further down its course from Croft, comes one of the strangest tales. 

Literally just over the bridge at Croft, where Lewis Carroll grew up, is the little town of Hurworth. And as the Tees leaves the picturesque town, an old road follows its course for a few miles east to the village of Neasham. The village is more than a thousand years old and in days gone by the little road between Neasham and Hurworth was home to a most peculiar menace. 

Now many rivers and bodies of water have some local legend attached to them, most usually stories of monstrous beings that love to drown those who stray too near to their edges. In the United Kingdom, these often take the form of horrible aquatic hags such as Jenny Greenteeth, who delights in drowning children in particular. And in the nearby Darlington, as we have mentioned, the Tees was said to be home to Peg Powler, and the foam generated at the churning river bends and turns was known locally as "Peg's suds", a sign that the feared river witch had been doing her washing thereabouts.   

Now it was said something of a similar ilk haunted the edges of the Tees on the little road from Neasham to Hurworth. Like many such water spirits, it was said to lure unsuspecting travelers off the road into the treacherous waters of the Tees. However this particular being was reported to appear in a most unsettling shape, a disturbing and unlikely form that led to this local monster being named "Hob Headless". And for many years, the Headless Hobgoblin of Neasham was blamed for assorted disappearances, deaths, and drownings on that stretch of the river. 

However while other dwellers from the depths often lingered on in the folk memory, with tales being told of them into the 20th century and even still repeated today, the Headless Hob's reign of terror did actually come to a definite end. Apparently on New Year's Eve 1772, a bricklayer from nearby Darlington, named Robert Luck, was making his way home along the road by the river where Headless Hob hunted. Now from the date we might very well assume that Mr Luck may well have had a few drinks that night, and possibly that might be the key to his eventual fate. However whatever exactly happened that night, certainly young Robert was ironically short of luck, for he was never to return home. 

Naturally his disappearance was blamed on the predations of old Hob Headless. Now according to local tradition, most folks were kept safe from the monster's clutches by the fact that the Hob could not cross a little tributary of the Tees, the Kent, and hence was prevented from menacing folks in the village. However the people of Neasham decided that enough was now enough and called for a priest to come and exorcise the malevolent sprite. Apparently the ritual was a success and the strange being was imprisoned, for as a Mr William Henderson relates - 
He has been exorcised, however, and laid under a large stone formerly on the roadside, for ninety-nine years and a day. Should any luckless person sit on that stone, he would be unable to quit it for ever
from Notes on the Folk-lore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders (1879) 

The claim that the stone had the power to magically glue anyone sat upon it, was seen as an act of revenge by Hob Headless for being trapped beneath it. But I think we may theorise that it was probably a prescription publicised to prevent any folks from tampering with it, and accidentally unleashing the Headless Hob once more. However as Mr Robert Woodhouse records in Haunted Darlington, in the 19th century, the large boulder was indeed disturbed in order to modernise that particular stretch of road. But thankfully there were no further reports of Headless Hob returning. 

Perhaps the new road  was safer, and less prone to slippery puddles or flash floods that could sweep unwary folks into the Tees. Or maybe the exorcism held past the alleged ninety-nine years and a day time limit. Or maybe, just maybe, the Hob was never entombed beneath the stone in the first place, and had actually just fled in search of new places to haunt. For there are reports of other headless apparitions menacing folk on an another isolated path by a waterway near Darlington... But that's a tale for another day...



Friday, 27 February 2015

FOLKLORE ON FRIDAY: The Wyvern of Wonderland


The green and pleasant lands of Britain are full of delightful flora and fauna. However if our folk tales are to be believed, this ancient land was once haunted by creatures far more fearsome than the usual well-loved woodland favourites. For according to legend, many counties in England harboured larger wildlife than just badgers, bunnies, foxes and squirrels, with old tales telling of great worms that roamed the countryside preying upon all and sundry. And no, not the kind you get in the garden! In European folklore, a worm is monstrous serpent or dragon, a term derived from the Old English: wyrm, the Old High German: wurm, and the Old Norse: ormr, all which mean snake or serpent. And the North-East of England seems to have been something of a favoured habitat for these monsters, home to famous legends such as the Lambton Worm, and the Laidley Worm of Bamburgh. However one lesser known beast has had a curious literary legacy, spawning a monster more famous than the worms of Lambton or Bamburgh. 

If you venture to the southern reaches of County Durham, you find the mighty River Tees. And not far from the little town of Croft, this North Eastern river takes something of a wandering path, almost going into a complete loop, and forming a patch of land known as the Sockburn peninsular. A few miles from here is the market town of Darlington, and on the heraldic arms of the borough one can see a shield, supported on one side by a lion and on the other by a wyvern with a falchion - a type of  medieval sword - embedded in its neck. Now this is no mere heraldic symbol or decoration, for this scaly beast is the legendary Sockburn Worm which terrorized the area back in the Middle Ages.

Borough of Darlington coat of arms

The Sockburn area is the seat of Conyers family, and according to old manuscripts this noble house was founded by one Sir John Conyers, who lies buried at Sockburn church. And while most of the church is now in ruins, a portion known as the Conyers Chapel is still standing and the tomb of Sir John, complete with his effigy in full armour, can still be seen there. And a further relic can be seen at the Treasury of Durham Cathedral - Sir John's own falchion. Originally housed at Sockburn Hall, until the late 18th century the falchion was used in a ceremony when a new Bishop of Durham entered the bishopric for the first time. The Lord of Sockburn would present and hand over the falchion to the newly appointed bishop on the bridge at Croft. This little ritual symbolised the noble family recognizing the authority of the incoming Prince-Bishop, and while there are many similar historic customs where a token is passed to show fealty to a ruling authority, in this case the falchion was more than a symbolic prop. For this ancient weapon was the foundation on which the nobility of the Conyers family was built upon. 

Historians believe that the Conyers originally came over to England during or just after the Norman conquest of 1066. However the family were not ennobled and granted lands until several centuries later, at some point between 12th or 14th centuries. However according to tradition, it was Sir John who won these honours. For back in those dark days, a monstrous worm was ravaging the lands of Sockburn, devouring both livestock and people. The Sockburn Worm was not only highly ferocious and but it  was also very toxic, for like many European dragons, rather than breathing fire, its breath and bite were lethally poisonous. Sir John, then just a humble knight, undertook to challenge the beast. What happened is documented in the Bowes Manuscript - 
Sr John Conyers, Knt. slew yt monstrous and poysonous vermine or wyverne, who overthrew and devoured many people in fight, for that ye sent of yt poison was so strong yt no person might abyde it. And by ye providence of Almighty God this John Connyers, Kt, overthrew ye saide monster, and slew it. But before he made this enterprise, having but one sonne, he went to the Church of Sockburne in compleate armour, and offered up yt his onely sonne to ye Holy Ghost. yt place where this great serpent laye was called Graystane; and as it is written in ye same manuscript, this John lieth buried in Sockburne Church in compleat armour before the Conquest. 
So then the Conyers gained their lands and title from Sir John slaying the Worm of Sockburn, and indeed it is the brave knight's falchion that we see on the coat of arms of the Borough of Darlington. And while the Conyers family is long gone, the custom of handing of Sir John's falchion to the new Bishop of Durham was revived in 1984, with the Mayor of Darlington handing over the ancient blade and intoning the time-honoured words - 
My Lord Bishop. I hereby present you with the falchion wherewith the champion Conyers slew the worm, dragon or fiery flying serpent which destroyed man, woman and child; in memory of which the king then reigning gave him the manor of Sockburn, to hold by this tenure, that upon the first entrance of every bishop into the county the falchion should be presented.
The Conyers Falchion

However was there ever really a Sockburn Worm, and if so what exactly was it? Some historians have suggested that the beast was a symbol for Viking invaders, and that Sir John actually slew a ferocious marauding Norseman. The theory goes that the worm legend was inspired by the carved dragon heads that adorned Viking long ships. However as the Northern counties abound with first hand accounts and handed down tales of such raids, it seems unlikely that in this case Viking pillagers should be transmogrified into a reptilian monster. And then there is also the additional problem that Sockburn, Croft and Darlington are a fair way from the seas, around twenty-five miles away in fact. 

Furthermore we should not jump to the conclusion that the Worm was a dragon. Now the account quoted above uses the term 'wyvern' which refers to a specific type of dragon - namely one with wings and two legs. And indeed this is how the Sockburn Worm is often depicted, for example it  is seen on the Darlington coat of arms. However this classification comes from 17th century heraldry rather than folklore. And while the manuscript account quoted above is thought to have been written in 1600s, the tale is prefixed by the author stating that "In an ould Manuscript wh I have sene of ye descent of Connyers, there is writ as followeth..." Therefore "wyverne" is very likely to have been used in an older sense of the word, one derived from Middle English, in which it meant simply "viper".

And considering the serpentine forms of other Northern Eastern monsters, and indeed many British dragons, it would seem likely that the original tale is speaking of a monstrous serpent rather than a winged and clawed traditional dragon. Indeed when one considers the accounts of these monstrous worms found all across Northern Europe, which are all are oddly consistent with each other, it is tempting to wonder if there is perhaps some truth behind the old tales... However that is a subject for another day.

Whatever the true nature of the Worm of Sockburn, the beast has sired some notable spawn. Firstly after the Conyers line died out, the Sockburn estate came to the hands of the Hutchinson family. And in 1799, Thomas Hutchinson and his family had some famous visitors come to stay, the poets William Wordsworth and Thomas Coleridge. It would prove to be a memorable stay for all concerned - Wordsworth fell in love with Mary Hutchinson, who he would married in 1802, and Coleridge found romance with her sister Sara. In his ardour for Sara, Coleridge wrote the poem Love and both drew inspiration from, and made allusions to, the local legend and the effigy of Sir John in the chapel.

However this isn't the only literary progeny of the Sockburn Worm, for about forty years later another literary luminary was in residence in the district. In 1843 a new clergyman and his family took up residence in the rectory at Croft-on-Tees, and the eldest son, then eleven years old, was one Charles Lutwidge Dodgson - a boy who would grow up to follow in his father's footsteps as an Anglican deacon, but also become a noted mathematician, a logician, a photographer and ultimately become better known to the world as Lewis Carroll, author of the Alice in Wonderland books.

Dodgson remained very fond of Croft and the North East, and often came back to stay for long periods throughout his entire life. And it was on one such trip back to Croft in 1855 that he penned a short poem that he entitled Stanza of Anglo-Saxon Poetry. It went like this...
Twas bryllyg, and ye slythy toves
Did gyre and gymble in ye wabe:
All mimsy were ye borogoves;
And ye mome raths outgrabe
...And I'm sure that most of you will recognise those lines. For a little later Dodgson was to expand this verse, one that would eventually appear in Alice's second round of adventures - Through the Looking-Glass (1871), as the classic poem Jabberwocky.

The Jabberwock by Sir John Tenniel

Now over the years it has often been thought that given Dodgson's love of the North East, Jabberwocky, must have been inspired by the tale of the Lambton Worm. However it is now generally agreed that the legend of the Sockburn Worm is most likely the sire of the dreaded Jabberwock. Firstly while the beast itself, now one of the famous monsters of literature, is clearly a draconic horror, and may appear to be different from the Sockburn Worm, it is consistent with the later wyvern depiction that Dodgson would have been familiar with.

Furthermore however this celebrated piece of nonsense poetry has the hero slaying the Jabberwock with a special sword, a vorpal blade. This clearly parallels Sir John and his falchion, whereas the Lambton Worm required a more arcane means of disposal. Finally of course, given Dodgson's close association with the church and Croft, he would have certainly known the Sockburn legend. Indeed when the Dodgson's' took up residence at the rectory, the last falchion ceremony would have still been within living memory. Interestingly Carroll scholars have suggested that 'vorpal' is an amalgam of 'verbal' and 'gospel' - an allusion perhaps to Sir John's prayers and pact with the Lord to gain victory over the beast? 

The final clue to the Sockburn link is perhaps the most obscure, but is also possibly the most interesting, for it sheds a new light on the literary nature of Jabberwocky itself. This hint lies in the title of the seed version of the poem - Stanza of Anglo-Saxon Poetry. For while most writing on the Sockburn legend these days dates the tale to around the 14th century, based upon the real Sir John Conyers dying in the early 1400s, accounts in books from Dodgson's era mention that it was then believed that the events of the tale occurred far earlier. For example, Bulmer's History and Directory of North Yorkshire published 1890 has this to say on the dating of the Sockburn Worm story -
This story, as handed down by tradition, is very much out of harmony with the recorded facts of chronology. The ancestors of the Conyers came to England in the train of William I., at the time of the Conquest, and an effigy, said to be that of Sir John Conyers, the hero of the Worm story, now in Sockburn Hall, whither it was removed at the demolition of the old church, represents a crosslegged knight of the 13th century, clad in chain armour, with his feet resting on a lion engaged in a deadly conflict with a winged worm or griffin. But the exploit, according to the tradition, occurred before the Conquest. 
And so, suddenly the title of the original short poem suddenly makes a lot more sense. Whereas we think of the Sockburn Worm as a medieval story, folks of Dodgson's time considered it a legend from the Dark Ages. And in this light we can clearly see the nonsense language of Jabberwocky, rather than being just linguistic tomfoolery, is also a deliberate echo of the archaic spellings, phrases and cadences of pre-modern English, not dissimilar the kind of language found in the original account, recorded  in the Bowes Manuscript. Many of Carroll's poems are deliberate parodies of other poems, and so considering the Sockburn inspiration for Jabberwocky, it is possible that the nonsense wordplay of this famous poem is in fact a humorous approximation of the tongue of the Dark Ages, a form of speech halfway between Middle and Modern English. 

All in all then, whilst it remains one of the lesser known British dragon stories, the old Sockburn Worm has proved to be a most remarkable monster, inspiring literary greats such as Coleridge and Carroll and fathering one of the great legendary beasts of literature. Long may it continue to burble in the tulgey wood and seize our imaginations with its claws that catch! 


Effigy of Sir John Conyers at Sockburn Church, with a dragon at his feet

A reading of Jabberwocky by Mr Jim Moon