The Cappel: Cumbria’s spooky black dog

The Black Dog

The Black Dog

There are stories of black dogs all over Britain. There’s usually something spooky or downright sinister about them, inspiring stories in both folklore and fiction – Arthur Conan Doyle’s Hound of the Baskervilles being the classic example. They are known by different names across the country – a barghest1, padfoot2, a schuck3, a gytrash4, the cù sìth (although he’s green)5 and, in Cumbria, the cappel6.

The area around Beetham in southern Cumbria – old Westmorland – is thick with cappels. There’s a typical one on the road between Beetham and Milnthorpe, with blazing eyes (although sometimes he’s headless) and he appears at midnight to terrify travellers. Cumbrian folklore says that three howls of a dog presage disaster and a single, long howl forecasts a death11.

The most famous cappel lived at Cappleside Barn7, by a medieval house near Beetham. He was more like the hob of Cumbrian folklore than the terrifying, flame-eyed version, as he was very helpful to the farmer, gathering sheep and helping around the house. It seems he could talk, too. Unfortunately, the local vicar had a problem with hairy, talking, canine farm hands and exorcised him into the nearby River Bela.

The prevalence of names in the area with ‘cappel’ in them suggest that the Beetham cappels were either very busy supernatural entities, or part of a large family. There’s a Cappelrigg and Capplebarrow nearby; Capel Crag, near Egremont; Capple Howe, the mountain; and Capelthwaite Farm near Sedbergh8.

Capplebarrow and Capple Howe introduce another element, as ‘barrow’ and ‘howe’ are words applied in the past to hills believed to be ancient burial places (rightly or wrongly). Black dogs are seen at other places linked to death, such as the sites of murders and executions; crossroads, where suicides were traditionally buried; and the north side of a churchyard (the ‘devil’s side’). The Victorian cleric and scholar, Sabine Baring-Gould, said that an early tradition of burying the body of a dog on the northern side of a church’s foundations accounts for the phenomenon of  this dog, known as a ‘church grim’9.

There has been a lot of debate about the meaning of the name ‘cappel’, often linking the creature to other animals. Marjorie Rowling10 believed that it was derived from a word for horse, although I can’t work out why. Another suggestion, which makes phonetic and etymological sense, is that it is the same as the Welsh, ‘Cath Palug’ – the catch being that this supernatural black beast with blazing eyes is, in fact, a cat. Admittedly, the size of a horse, but nonetheless definitely a cat.

The Cath Palug is mentioned in several sources11. Its mother was a pig, and its brothers were an eagle and a wolf; it swam to Anglesey, where it was adopted by Palug (the local chieftain)’s sons. They came to regret this when the Cath Palug killed ‘nine score’ warriors. Welsh legend states that the Arthurian knight, Kai, was sent to despatch the cat, but as the last half of that text is missing, we’ll never know if he succeeded.

Welsh mythology also has a ‘gwyllgi’, which is very much like the scary, fiery-eyed dog of Cumbria’s Beetham-Milnthorpe road.

Asgardsreien by Peter Nicolai Arbo, 1873
Asgardsreien by Peter Nicolai Arbo, 1873

The relevance of the Welsh stories is that Cumbria was once a Brythonic-speaking nation, Brythonic being the term for the old Celtic language which is the ancestor of modern Welsh. When the Britons of Cumbria were subdued by the English (Anglo-Saxons) and Scots in the 10th century, some old Cumbrian history and folklore was preserved in Welsh writings11, notably the Welsh Triads and the Book of Taliesin (the writings of the bard of the Cumbrian, Urien of Rheged), and this is where the Cath Palug’s story is found.

The black dog in this form – a solitary creature, of giant size, with fiery eyes, and probably dangerous – is distinctively British. Other dog folklore, which is present across northern Europe, is of the Wild Hunt, or, as it was known in Cumbria, the Gabriel Hounds. To the Welsh, the Cŵn Annwn was a pack of spectral hounds led by Gwyn ap Nudd; they collected the souls of the dead and took them to the Welsh otherworldly paradise. Christianised culture made the Cŵn Annwn more sinister, and Annwn became hell; it’s easy to see how howling dogs became an omen of death and misfortune.

There’s no doubt that black dog stories have evolved and got mixed up with other supernatural stories over the centuries. The Cappleside Hall cappel, for example, isn’t very like other Cumbrian cappels. The exorcism to the river seems to put the cappel into the same bracket as demons and witches, who were believed not be able to tolerate water, but a more ancient version of the cappel, like the Brythonic Cath Palu, would presumably have swum away. Perhaps that’s why there are still so many black dog stories in that particular part of Cumbria…

 © Diane McIlmoyle 04.10.11

  1. Known in various spellings in the east of the country, especially Yorkshire. The word is of germanic origin and seems to contain the word ‘geist’, ie. ‘ghost’.
  2. Padfoot is also a Yorkshire black dog, popularised by JK Rowling in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, where he is Sirius’s canine alter ego.
  3. From the south-east of England.
  4. The gytrash is first recorded in Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, so we don’t know for sure if this is genuine folklore.
  5. The cù sìth, is, as you might expect, Scots Gaelic and a native of the highlands. The folklore is the same as other black dogs in Britain, only he’s green – perhaps this is because he is seen as one of the faery races, and there is a strong cultural link in Scotland between faeries and the colour green.
  6. Marjorie Rowling, in The Folklore of the Lake District (1976), states that William Henderson was mistaken in calling the cappel a ‘capplethwaite’ in his book, Folklore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders (1866). Going by the other ‘cappel-’ place names and the fact that ‘thwaite’ means ‘clearing’ and is a common part of Cumbrian place names, I have to agree with her. As she says, Henderson’s error is repeated all over the place.
  7. I have no idea when the house came to be called this, as it clearly includes the cappel in its name!
  8. According to W Henderson in Folklore of the Northern Counties of England and the Borders (1866).
  9. Sabine Baring-Gould, Curious Myths of the Middle Ages (1868). JG Frazer, author of The Golden Bough (1922) lists similar examples in other European countries.
  10. Marjorie Rowling, in The Folklore of the Lake District (1976).
  11. The White Book of Rhydderch, the Black Book of Camarthen, Welsh Triad 26, the Book of Taliesin.

16 Responses to “The Cappel: Cumbria’s spooky black dog”

  1. I grew up in East Anglia and remember being spooked by black dog (shuck) stories in the pub as a teenager. Very similar stuff: black, fiery eyes, harbinger of death – that sort of thing. There’s story about it attacking the church in Bungay centuries ago and the claw marks can still be seen in the old wooden church doors. Great stuff!

  2. Hello Beth – yes, that’s the same guy! They’re all over Britain. There are more stories about black dogs in churches in other parts of the country than there are up here, but some of them are truly terrifiying, including one where the dog seemed to be carrying its own lightning charge with it, burning churchgoers as they sat in their pews…

  3. As Yorkshirewoman, I’m pretty familiar with the old barguest/padfoot/guytrash.Tabitha Aykroyd – a much-loved servant in the Bronte household more than likely passed on the local folklore to the young Bronte sisters – so my guess is it’s traditional.
    There are times when I wish Ms Rowling hadn’t used quiet so much British folklore in her books – it’s hard to use anything without being compared to the world of HP!
    I wonder what the connection is with Churchill’s black dog of depression?
    Thanks for the post!

    • Hi there! I did a double take there when you mentioned Rowling, as Marjorie Rowling is one of the key authorities on Cumbrian folklore… but of course you mean JK! (No relation, I presume?) I know it channels people’s ideas into the Warner Bros version, but I’ve found that it does make young people listen. Good to hear about the guytrash – there doesn’t seem to be any earlier mentions, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

      Of course, a lot of the black dog imagery is easy to link with the demons of depression, and then there’s the awful link with crossroads and burial of suicides. Many black dog sighting stories have witnesses dropping dead the following day; I wonder if in some areas, there was a compassionate cover story? I don’t think we’ll ever know that one.

  4. not only does JK Rowling adopt Padfoot, of course she also appropriates the black dog legend in her description of the Grim in Prisoner of Azkaban

    “The Grim is an omen of death, which is reputed to bring about the demise of the person who encounters it. The Grim takes the shape of a large, black, spectral dog. Perhaps the most well-known of omens, the Grim has earned infamy throughout the wizarding world and is considered to be one of the worst, if not the worst, omens around.”

    as you say, very few aspects of our folklore remain untouched by Potter

  5. Yay, more black dog and wild hunt stories! Must be the time of year :D Fascinating, had never heard of cappels before, didn’t know they had a different name in Cumbria. Keep meaning to look into the Northumbrian black dog stories and see what I can find!!

    • Definitely the time of year, Laura! I plan to have loads of spooky tales for this month, providing I can find time to put fingers to keyboard!

      I’m sure there will be black dog stories in Northumbria – probably ‘barguests’.

      Thanks for coming over!

  6. Good stories about black dogs? One saved my life. Or so I was told by my partner the next morning when whe was coming to stab me in my sleep. Scared her really good.
    And one used to run with me as I cycled along. A phantom black dog, quite large. Was never really seen directly, and had no propblem running thru solid objects. I think it has to do with my Woolley lineage. And yet, here I am in California.

    • Blimey! I don’t quite know what to say about that.

      There are some theories that people take their folklore with them with they move countries, and I guess the US is the place to test that one.

      Thanks for coming over :)

  7. I’d heard of black dogs but it’s great to hear the background information and to see how widespread these stories are in Britain. I of course couldn’t resist having a quick look to see if we have any in Staffordshire. Apparently there is one guarding a Jacobite grave between Ashbourne & Leek but the most well known seems to be at Kidsgrove where it is mostly heard rather than seen and is said to be a portent of a mining accident.

    Also someone mentioned the Bungay story – whilst I was searching for Staffie Black Dogs, I saw that they have a black dog on their church weathervane!

    Thanks Diane for another stimulating post :)

  8. ‘morning Kate! Yes, they’re everywhere – the black dog does seem to be an ancient concept that has outlived all the successions of invaders to these isles. There are quite a few church-related black dogs around the country – Beth mentions one above – although they tend to stick to roads and crossroads in Cumbria ;)

    Thanks for coming over :)

  9. Really interesting stuff – I’d never heard of the cappel until reading this – thanks for posting it! I haven’t read Marjorie Rowling’s work, but I wonder if she’s connecting the word ‘cappel’ with the Welsh ‘cafall’/'ceffyl’ (meaning ‘horse’ and ultimately derived from the Celtic *caballos)? Not knowing enough about linguistics, I don’t know whether ‘cappel’ would be an acceptable variation (although one Irish form of the word is ‘capall’), but it seems worth noting that the word was applied as a name (Caball/Cafall) to no less than King Arthur’s giant dog…I wonder if there’s a connection?

    • Ah, now that’s all *extremely* interesting, Beth! I’m sure you’re right about Marjorie Rowling’s ‘horse’ – she seems to be in the minority with her interpretation, but she’s normally spot on, so I knew there had to be some sense to it somewhere.

      And as for King Arthur’s dog – I hadn’t heard of him but I’d be quite sure that it’s the same fella!

      I love it when my visitors fill in all the gaps – that’s the real value of a blog like this. So thanks again, Beth :)

Trackbacks

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 123 other followers

%d bloggers like this: