You may have read my previous blog post on the legendary duel that killed Sir Henry Hobart, 4th Baronet and owner of Blickling Hall in 1698.
Curiously, Hobart’s remarkable story doesn’t end with his death; in fact it appears that his post-humous exploits were almost as dramatic as those of his lifetime. Little did he know, as he lay in his glorious turret bedroom drawing his last breath, that both his burial and his family’s grief would be interrupted by Norfolk’s legendary hell hound, Black Shuck.
Many of us are familiar with the imagery of Shuck. He is often described as,
“A demon dog, as big as a fair-sized calf, that pads along noiselessly under the shadow of hedgerows, tracking the steps of lonely wayfarers and terrifying them with the wicked glare of his yellow eyes.”
Dutton, quoted in ‘This Hollow Land: Aspects of Norfolk Folklore’, Peter Tolhurst
Perhaps his most celebrated act of terror was committed in Bungay on August 4th 1577. Legend states that as local parishioners sat tightly packed in the church, ominous skies above darkened as ‘fearful flashes of lightning and terrible cracks of thunder’ rolled in. Heavy rain pelted the church, and the ground shook as peals of thunder terrified the congregation.
Suddenly, the church doors burst open and there, panting and salivating in the doorway was Black Shuck. The dog’s eyes were wide and staring, its coat shining black, slick with heavy rain. The beast gave a gut-wrenching growl, before hurling himself at the petrified gathering.
A contemporary account by author Abraham Fleming was published in 1577, entitled ‘A Straunge and Terrible Wunder’ (sic). Thankfully for us, the Norfolk Record Office hold a more modern translation of Fleming’s account. An edition of the ‘Roberts & Co. Norwich Almanac and Record’ (1933) reads in modern English:
‘This black dog, or the devil in such a likeness, running all along down the body of the church with great swiftness, and with incredible haste, among the people… passed between two persons as they were kneeling and wrung the necks of them both at one instant clean backward.’
Fleming continues to describe Shuck’s frenzied attack:
‘Passing by another man in the congregation… he gave him such a grip on the back, that therewith all he was presently drawn together and shrunk up, as it were a piece of leather scorched in a hot fire.’
Abraham Fleming, ‘A Straunge and Terrible Wunder’
A verse was composed, suggesting a more plausible explanation than a hell hound. The fire that accompanied Shuck was likely to have been a bolt of lightning; a theory underpinned by the poem’s mention of two men who happened to be in the belfry:
‘The church appear’d a mass of flame,
And while the storm did rage,
A black and fearful monster came,
All eyes he did engage.
All down the church in midst of fire,
The hellish monster flew,
And passing onwards to the choir,
He many people slew.
Many were stricken to the ground,
Whereof they strangely died,
And many others there were found,
Wounded on every side.
The church itself was rent and torn,
The clock in pieces broke,
Two men in which the belfry sat,
Were killed on the spot.’
Roberts & Co’s Norwich Almanac and Record (1933)
This account of Black Shuck’s exploits is relatively well known, especially amongst East Anglian folk. However, his visits to Blickling Hall near Aylsham are barely spoken of.
Upon further research, one can uncover a little-known legend recorded by F. J. Meyrick in his book ‘Round About Norfolk and Suffolk’ (1926). Meyrick grew up in Blickling, and his father was Rector-Designate for four decades in the late nineteenth century. Meyrick Senior was keen to record local customs and legends, and records the fate of a Squire of Blickling, ‘an evil man (who) dared to taint the fair spot with wickedness so great that none could speak of it.’
Peter Tolhurst (ibid) states that:
‘The ‘wicked gentleman’ at the centre of the story is thought to have been Sir Henry Hobart, late 17th century owner of the hall and a man heavily in debt…fond of persecuting his neighbours.’
As previously mentioned, Hobart died a most unpleasant death fighting a duel against neighbouring landowner, Oliver Le Neve. Following his fatal wounding, he was rushed back to Blickling Hall to no avail – Hobart died the following day. Meyrick records the local sexton’s experience of Hobart’s ensuing committal to the graveyard at Blickling church, and the strange appearance of a stray dog:
‘It is said that as dust was committed to dust, and ashes to ashes, the earth trembled as though in travail…At the churchyard gate, a dog came whining to his feet, as though seeking companionship.’
F. J. Meyrick ‘Round and About Norfolk and Suffolk’ (1926)
The sexton was horrified to find that overnight, Hobart’s body had been unearthed:
‘It was a strange and dreadful resurrection! Mother Earth had refused her son. The very corpse of the buried nobleman had been torn from its casket of lead and lay there poisoning the June day…It was finally agreed that though the corpse had been rejected by consecrated soil, yet it might be hidden away in the common ground, in a copse in the heart of the park.’
Shockingly, the corpse was once again found ‘spat out’ of the earth; it was decided by the Priest that the body could be laid to rest underwater, and ‘so to the lake, men bore the body, which, weighted with heavy stones, they dropped into ten feet of water.’
A week passed peacefully with no signs of a second resurrection – until the Keeper of the estate caught a ‘monstrous eel’ in the lake. He dutifully took the creature to the Squire’s cook, who turned her back on the eel ‘gasping in a dish.’ Wiley Black Shuck chose this moment to appear as if from nowhere:
‘A great wonder followed. A black dog, as slippery as any eel, appeared – a black dog with the dead man’s eyes. Noone could bring that dog to heel, nor trap it, nor poison it. And while it was abroad, a dark curse hung over the Hall, the farm, the whole estate…
…At length a famous wizard came from London…At his seventh whistle the dog fawned at his feet. Touched by the wand, the beast followed his master to the south-east turret, where he kept guard over the wizard’s hat and stick. The natural fidelity of the dog ran deeper than the unnatural treachery of the man which had possessed the beast, and whose evil soul had looked out of the dog’s eyes. Then the village mason built up the door.’
The estate and its residents returned to their everyday lives, undisturbed for many by the black beast and the evil soul of Hobart that refused to rest. Shuck’s exploits became legendary, as the myth was passed down from generation to generation.
Remarkably, Shuck made a further appearance over a century later. A single line of handwritten text held by the Norfolk Record Office gives us a tantalising glimpse of his restless presence at the Hall in 1860. An unknown hand writes:
‘Everywhere, it is said, has its skeleton or ghost story; and at Blickling there is currently a tale about a black dog which haunts the drawing room.’
The tale in question is elaborated upon by Meyrick, who records an eventful evening at the Hall in the 1860s. His father, the late Rector was with the Squire’s sisters in the drawing room when one of the ladies suddenly exclaimed;
‘”Do you see that dog?” She was so convinced that a black dog had run across the room and was hiding somewhere behind the tapestry, that she sent word to her sister, to inquire whether she had as usual her pet dog in her bedroom. “Yes, and Toby is sound asleep.” There was no trace of a second or far larger dog.”
Chillingly, the Squire who knew nothing of the apparition in the drawing room that night remarked to his sisters the next morning that he had had the old, bricked-up turret opened up the day before.
Had Black Shuck, imprisoned over one hundred and fifty years earlier, taken this opportunity to escape and reestablish his reign of terror over the estate? Was Hobart immortal, destined to haunt future owners of the Hall for eternity? If reports of his reputation are to be believed, he would surely welcome the dark, foreboding presence of Black Shuck as his earthly representative from the afterlife.
Bungay’s three-day Black Shuck Festival (4th– 6th August 2023) gives us all the opportunity to celebrate the hell hound that both scares and delights in equal measure. Will he take this celebration as an invitation to recommence his terrifying visits from beyond the grave? Only time will tell.
Additional sources: The Black Shuck and the Black Dogs of Norfolk, Max Derbyshire
Written for Norfolk Record Office. Adapted by National Trust (Blickling Estate) for their ‘Autumn Magic & Folklore’ exhibition (September 2024)
Lucy Spirit ~ Portfolio 
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