One of the Household

Folklore from around the world contains the stories of household gods, fairies, sprites, and other spirits who protect a house’s inhabitants or a given family. These spirits can be mischievous at times but are often downright helpful. Of course, that all depends on how they’re treated. From baku to brownies, this episode brings you the stories of some helpful household spirits from around the world. 

Researched, written, and produced by Corinne Wieben, with original music by Purple Planet. 

Episode sources  

Chapters

• 0:00 Pre-roll
• 0:08 Intro
• 1:46 Baku
• 4:49 Domovoy
• 8:04 Kobold
• 11:18 Brownie and Boggart
• 14:34 Clurichaun
• 16:03 Conclusion
• 17:10 Outro

Transcript

Pre-roll
You’re listening to Enchanted, a podcast on the history of magic, sorcery and witchcraft. I’m Corinne Wieben.

Intro
If you’ve been on the internet at all around December, you may have noticed some people posting pictures of their “Elf on the Shelf,” a smiling, rosy-cheeked doll dressed in red, that moves throughout the house during the Christmas season, keeping an eye on the children to help Santa update his “nice” list. Based on the 2005 children’s book The Elf on the Shelf: A Christmas Tradition, the elf in question is a recent addition, but in the age of social media, this scarlet-clad panopticon has become a favorite in pre-holiday photos.

But according to tradition, this upstart elf isn’t the only sprite hanging around your house this season. Folklore from around the world contains the stories of household gods, fairies, sprites, and other spirits who protect a house’s inhabitants or a given family. These spirits can be mischievous at times but are often downright helpful. Of course, that all depends on how they’re treated. From baku to brownies, in this episode, I bring you the stories of some helpful household spirits from around the world.

Baku
If you’re plagued by nightmares, you may want to call on the Japanese baku. The baku most likely derived from Chinese folklore but appeared in Japanese culture by the fourteenth century and increased in popularity by the seventeenth century. According to legend, after all other animals were created, the gods created the baku using the leftover parts. An early seventeenth-century Japanese manuscript, the Sankai Ibutsu, or Mythical Creatures of the Mountains and Seas, depicts the baku this way:

In the mountains of the south, there lives a beast. It has an elephant’s trunk, the eyes of a rhinoceros, an ox’s tail, and a tiger’s paws. Its body is yellow and black, and is called the Mo [tapir]. By sleeping on its pelt one can ward off pestilence. A man should make a sketch of the Mo in order to be protected from evil. It eats copper and iron but nothing else. 

Similar to the Greek chimera, or the mo in Chinese folklore, a hybrid creature with tiger paws, a cow’s tail, the eyes of a rhinoceros, and an elephant’s trunk, the baku invokes the traditional idea that a hybrid beast enjoyed special powers as a protector, warding off illness, injury, and other evils. While the shape of the baku has varied between sources, it is often associated with the nocturnal Malayan tapir, and its purpose is always the same. The baku, it is said, devours nightmares.

By the early twentieth century, children in Japan commonly slept with a netsuke or other talisman in the shape of a baku next to them or under their pillows. If a child woke from a nightmare, they were instructed to call on the baku, saying, “Baku-san, come eat my dream.” The baku would come, swallow up the nightmare, and allow the child to fall back asleep in peace. In a 2005 study analyzing various cultural practices surrounding dreams, Dr. Tadao Hori points to belief in the baku, especially the use of amulets as protection from nightmares, as a potentially effective strategy for controlling dreams, one of a number of practices used to combat the effects of post-traumatic stress disorder and other sleep disturbances. In a study featuring beliefs surrounding the baku, Dr. Raluca Nicolae has recorded the following poem, said to provide protection against bad dreams: “Once you cast your bad dreams before Baku/ you’ll feel so free / No worries anymore and a brand new day will dawn.”

Domovoy
In the Slavic religious tradition, houses are protected by the Domovoy, which literally translates to “one of the household.” This protective spirit is usually associated with ancestor worship, and it often believed to be the spirit of the founding ancestor of a kin group, an embodiment of the god of family, ancestry, and fate, or some combination of those. In this way, the Slavic domovoy is similar to the Roman Penates or Lares, both types of household gods, tutelary deities or protective spirits representing the continued wellbeing of the domus, the house itself and the family it contains.

Depictions of the Domovoy usually show him as an elderly man with grey hair and intense eyes. However, he is also believed to take the form of animals at times, either domestic pets, like cats or dogs, or dangerous guardians, like bears or serpents. Sometimes he can take the form of the current master of the house or a distant ancestor. Like their Roman counterparts, Slavic families created representations of their household gods in the form of clay or stone figures, dressed in the clothing that represented that kin group and placed on or near altars, mantlepieces, ovens, doors, or other important spaces.

As with many household deities, it is important to pay due respect to the Domovoy, and a wise family made regular sacrifices in honor of the Domovoy to ensure his continued protection and intervention in the affairs of the household. These sacrifices often included leaving food, especially a portion the evening meal or bread sprinkled with salt, for the Domovoy. These sacrifices, followed by prayers and invocations, reminded the Domovoy of his continued inclusion in the domestic affairs of the family.

Since the Domovoy was often associated with the physical building itself, when a family moved to a new home, it was only proper to offer sacrifices and prayers to invite the god to move in. To ensure the Domovoy that he was welcome in this new space, the family would sacrifice a hen and leave the first slice of bread cut in the new house. Both were buried in the courtyard while the family called to the Domovoy, saying, “Our supporter, come into the new house to eat bread and obey your new master.” With luck, the Domovoy would accept the invitation, and the family could enjoy the continued protection of their ancestor spirit in their new abode.

Kobolds
Another household spirit, the Germanic kobold appears in various forms throughout European folklore, including in the figures of the goblin and hobgoblin. Their name may come from the Greek kobaloi, mischievous spirits who accompanied Dionysus, god of wine and revelry. Kobolds can appear as animals, like bats, cats, roosters, snakes, and worms, or in the shape of humans, but also as flames or candles. Their clothing varies by setting. Kobolds who occupy mines are dressed in shabby clothing and disfigured by the harsh environment. A kobold who lives aboard a ship, called a Klabautermann, can often be seen dressed as a tiny sailor, sometimes smoking a pipe. In the homes of humans, however, kobolds are dress in simple peasant garb. In all cases, kobolds are ready to help or harm, depending on how we treat them and their environment.

Domestic kobolds attach themselves to a single home, and some traditions claim that every house has a kobold, whether the residents acknowledge it or not. One way to acquire a kobold, it is said, is to rescue a cold, wet animal and bring it indoors to warm itself. If treated well and allowed to stay, kobolds will complete any chores left over when the home’s residents go to bed. Legend tells of a baker in Cologne who never needed to hire help because the kobolds living in his bakery would bake plenty of bread each night. Kobolds who live in breweries and taverns, called biersal, will likewise brew or bring in beer, clean tables, and wash bottles and glasses. Other kobolds bring luck, money, or gifts to the house.

This is all, of course, only in exchange for being made to feel welcome. In return for these favors, the family must leave a portion of their supper or some other gift and otherwise treat the kobold with respect. Failure to do so can spell disaster. The consequences for those who actively insult a house’s kobold or attempt to drive them out range from misfortune to illness to beatings and even death. Nineteenth-century folklorist Archibald Maclaren wrote that a kobold’s nature reflected the nature of the family. A virtuous family meant a good and generous kobold, while an ill-mannered family would suffer the ministrations of a mischievous sprite.

Brownies and Boggarts
In Scotland and northern England, similar household spirits can be found in the form of the brownie. Brownies are said to be small humanoid figures with brown skin and copious amounts of hair on their bodies. One nineteenth-century folklorist described the brownie this way: “a personage of small stature, wrinkled visage, covered with short curly brown hair, and wearing a brown mantle and hood.” Like the kobold, brownies perform helpful tasks while humans are asleep including necessary chores around a house or a farm. To ensure the good will and sweet disposition of the household’s brownie, the family must leave offerings of food or milk by the hearth.

If insulted, a brownie will undo all his hard work and leave the household to misfortune. One story from Berwickshire claims that for years a brownie had been doing all the mowing and threshing of grain on a large estate. When someone dared to complain that the grain had been badly mown and was incorrectly stacked, the brownie flew into a rage. That night, the insulted brownie dragged all the grain to a nearby crag to throw it over, muttering: “It's no' weel mow'd! It's no' weel mow’d!—/ Then it's ne'er be mow'd by me again;/ I'll scatter it owre the Raven Stane/ And they'll hae some wark ere it's mow'd again.” Other incidents said to have driven brownies away include attempts at baptizing them, giving them a name, and giving them clothing.

Of course, a brownie just leaving after being insulted is the best-case scenario. The worst is that the brownie will remain in the house as a malevolent boggart. Domestic boggarts are often traditionally blamed for minor catastrophes, such as items disappearing or the milk going sour. While boggarts are usually said to follow a family that attempts to flee it, it may be possible to trick a boggart into leaving, as in one story from Lincolnshire, where a farmer offers a deal to a boggart who lives on his farm. In exchange for leaving him and his crops in peace, the farmer offers the boggart a portion of his crops. He tells the boggart he can choose which portion he wants: what grows above grown or below it. When the boggart chooses what grows below ground, the farmer plants barley, but after the harvest, the boggart realizes he’s been left with only stubble. He then demands the portion of the crop that grows above ground. The farmer agrees, and plants potatoes. When the boggart realizes he’s been tricked yet again, he leaves the farmer—and the farm—in peace.

Clurichauns
To the west, another sprite sometimes chooses to set up shop in Irish households: the clurichaun. Closely related to the treasure-guarding leprechaun, the clurichaun tends to haunt breweries, wine cellars, and pubs, and is most distinguished by his love of drink. He’s also known for his sense of mischief, disturbing the peace of the household and drinking all the liquor he can get his hands on. Usually described as a tiny man with a wizened face, twinkling eyes, and with a nose and cheeks that are bright red from drink, the clurichaun, like the kobold and brownie, also demands a measure of respect. When, in one story, a clurichaun offers a drink to a young man who takes it but refuses to pay for it, the fairy compels the ungrateful man to serve him for seven years and a day. In another story, a helpful clurichaun preserved the household beer supply by bunging up the tap when a negligent servant left it running, but when the cook rewarded his efforts with nothing more than leftover herring and cold potatoes, he dragged her down the stairs, leaving her black and blue all over and bedridden for the next several weeks.

Conclusion
Homes are funny things. They’re central to our lives. They’re gathering places for family and friends. They contain so much of our experiences and our memories. It stands to reason that we might feel an extra presence in our homes from time to time, especially one that reflects the harmonious or chaotic natures of the people who live there. Who hasn’t lost a sock on occasion or found something in a place where they’re sure they didn’t leave it? So this holiday season, why not leave some extra gifts for your unseen household guests in the form of some extra food and drink? Maybe just… don’t give them socks.

Outro
If you enjoyed this episode, you can subscribe to Enchanted wherever you listen. This episode was produced by me with original music by Purple Planet. You can find them at purple dash planet dot com. If you want to learn more about helpful household spirits, be sure to check out the sources link in the show notes. Special thanks to Enchanted’s Patreon patrons for supporting the production of this and every episode. If you want to support Enchanted, please visit patreon dot com slash enchantedpodcast. If you’re looking for a way to support the show that won’t cost you anything, you can always give Enchanted: The History of Magic & Witchcraft a five-star rating on Apple Podcasts, Podchaser, Audible, or wherever you listen and recommend it to your friends. You can get in touch with me via email at enchantedpodcast at gmail dot com or follow on Facebook, Instagram, and Tumblr at enchantedpodcast. As always, for more information and special features, visit enchantedpodcast dot net. I’m Corinne Wieben. Thank you for listening and stay enchanted.