Origins of Welsh Fairies--The Realistic Theory--Legend of
the Baron's Gate--The Red Fairies--The Trwyn Fairy a
Proscribed Nobleman--The Theory of hiding Druids--Colour in
Welsh Fairy Attire--The Green Lady of Caerphilly--White the
favourite Welsh Hue--Legend of the Prolific Woman--The
Poetico-Religious Theory--The Creed of Science.
I.
Concerning the origin of the Tylwyth Teg, there are two popular
explanations, the one poetico-religious in its character, the other
practical and realistic. Both are equally wide of the truth, the true
origin of fairies being found in the primeval mythology; but as my
purpose is to avoid enlarging in directions generally familiar to the
student, I have only to present the local aspects of this, as of the
other features of the subject.
The realistic theory of the origin of the Tylwyth Teg must be
mentioned respectfully, because among its advocates have been men of
culture and good sense. This theory presumes that the first fairies
were men and women of mortal flesh and blood, and that the later
superstitions are a mere echo of tales which first were told of real
beings. In quasi-support of this theory, there is a well-authenticated
tradition of a race of beings who, in the middle of the sixteenth
century, inhabited the Wood of the Great Dark Wood (Coed y Dugoed
Mawr) in Merionethshire, and who were called the Red Fairies. They
lived in dens in the ground, had fiery red hair and long strong arms,
and stole sheep and cattle by night. There are cottages in Cemmaes
parish, near the Wood of the Great Dark Wood, with scythes in the
chimneys, which were put there to keep these terrible beings out. One
Christmas eve a valiant knight named Baron Owen headed a company of
warriors who assailed the Red Fairies, and found them flesh and blood.
The Baron hung a hundred of them; but spared the women, one of whom
begged hard for the life of her son. The Baron refused her prayer,
whereupon she opened her breast and shrieked, 'This breast has nursed
other sons than he, who will yet wash their hands in thy blood, Baron
Owen!' Not very long thereafter, the Baron was waylaid at a certain
spot by the sons of the 'fairy' woman, who washed their hands in his
warm and reeking blood, in fulfilment of their mother's threat. And to
this day that spot goes by the name of Llidiart y Barwn (the Baron's
Gate); any peasant of the neighbourhood will tell you the story, as
one told it to me. There is of course no better foundation for the
fairy features of it than the fancies of the ignorant mind, but the
legend itself is--very nearly in this shape--historical. The beings in
question were a band of outlaws, who might naturally find it to their
interest to foster belief in their supernatural powers.
II.
The so-called Pwca'r Trwyn, which haunted the farm-house in the parish
of Mynyddyslwyn, is sometimes cited as another case in which a fairy
was probably a being of flesh and blood; and if this be true, it of
course proves nothing but the adoption of an ancient superstition by a
proscribed Welsh nobleman. There is a tradition that this fairy had a
name, and that this name was 'yr Arglwydd Hywel,' which is in English
'Lord Howell.' And it is argued that this Lord, in a contest with the
forces of the English king, was utterly worsted, and driven into
hiding; that his tenants at Pantygasseg and the Trwyn Farm, loving
their Lord, helped to hide him, and to disseminate the belief that he
was a household fairy, or Bwbach. It is related that he generally
spoke from his own room in this farm-house, in a gentle voice which
'came down between the boards' into the common room beneath. One day
the servants were comparing their hands, as to size and whiteness,
when the fairy was heard to say, 'The Pwca's hand is the fairest and
smallest.' The servants asked if the fairy would show its hand, and
immediately a plank overhead was moved and a hand appeared, small,
fair and beautifully formed, with a large gold ring on the little
finger.
III.
Curiously interesting is the hypothesis concerning the realistic
origin of the Tylwyth Teg, which was put forth at the close of the
last century by several writers, among them the Rev. Peter Roberts,
author of the 'Collectanea Cambrica.' This hypothesis precisely
accounts for the fairies anciently as being the Druids, in hiding from
their enemies, or if not they, other persons who had such cause for
living concealed in subterraneous places, and venturing forth only at
night. 'Some conquered aborigines,' thought Dr. Guthrie; while Mr.
Roberts fancied that as the Irish had frequently landed hostilely in
Wales, 'it was very possible that some small bodies of that nation
left behind, or unable to return, and fearing discovery, had hid
themselves in caverns during the day, and sent their children out at
night, fantastically dressed, for food and exercise, and thus secured
themselves.' But there were objections to this presumption, and the
Druidical theory was the favourite one. Says Mr. Roberts: 'The fairy
customs appeared evidently too systematic, and too general, to be
those of an accidental party reduced to distress. They are those of a
consistent and regular policy instituted to prevent discovery, and to
inspire fear of their power, and a high opinion of their beneficence.
Accordingly tradition notes, that to attempt to discover them was to
incur certain destruction. "They are fairies," says Falstaff: "he that
looks on them shall die." They were not to be impeded in ingress or
egress; a bowl of milk was to be left for them at night on the hearth;
and, in return, they left a small present in money when they departed,
if the house was kept clean; if not, they inflicted some punishment on
the negligent, which, as it was death to look on them, they were
obliged to suffer, and no doubt but many unlucky tricks were played on
such occasions. Their general dress was green, that they might be the
better concealed; and, as their children might have betrayed their
haunts, they seem to have been suffered to go out only in the night
time, and to have been entertained by dances on moonlight nights.
These dances, like those round the Maypole, have been said to be
performed round a tree; and on an elevated spot, mostly a tumulus,
beneath which was probably their habitation, or its entrance. The
older persons, probably, mixed as much as they dared with the world;
and, if they happened to be at any time recognised, the certainty of
their vengeance was their safety. If by any chance their society was
thinned, they appear to have stolen children, and changed feeble for
strong infants. The stolen children, if beyond infancy, being brought
into their subterraneous dwellings, seem to have had a soporific given
them, and to have been carried to a distant part of the country; and,
being there allowed to go out merely by night, mistook the night for
the day, and probably were not undeceived until it could be done
securely. The regularity and generality of this system shows that
there was a body of people existing in the kingdom distinct from its
known inhabitants, and either confederated, or obliged to live or meet
mysteriously; and their rites, particularly that of dancing round a
tree, probably an oak, as Herne's, etc., as well as their character
for truth and probity, refer them to a Druidic origin. If this was the
case, it is easy to conceive, as indeed history shows, that, as the
Druids were persecuted by the Romans and Christians, they used these
means to preserve themselves and their families, and whilst the
country was thinly peopled, and thickly wooded, did so successfully;
and, perhaps, to a much later period than is imagined: till the
increase of population made it impossible. As the Druidical was one of
the most ancient religions, so it must have been one of the first
persecuted, and forced to form a regular plan of security, which their
dwelling in caves may have suggested, and necessity improved.'
IV.
It will be observed that one of the points in this curious speculation
rests on the green dress of the fairies. I do not call attention to it
with any Quixotic purpose of disputing the conclusion it assists; it
is far more interesting as one feature of the general subject of
fairies' attire. The Welsh fairies are described with details as to
colour in costume not commonly met with in fairy tales, a fact to
which I have before alluded. In the legend of the Place of Strife,
the Tylwyth Teg encountered by the women are called 'the old elves of
the blue petticoat.' A connection with the blue of the sky has here
been suggested. It has also been pointed out that the sacred Druidical
dress was blue. The blue petticoat fancy seems to be local to North
Wales. In Cardiganshire, the tradition respecting an encampment called
Moyddin, which the fairies frequented, is that they were always in
green dresses, and were never seen there but in the vernal month of
May. There is a Glamorganshire goblin called the Green Lady of
Caerphilly, the colour of whose dress is indicated by her title. She
haunts the ruin of Caerphilly Castle at night, wearing a green robe,
and has the power of turning herself into ivy and mingling with the
ivy growing on the wall. A more ingenious mode of getting rid of a
goblin was perhaps never invented. The fairies of Frennifawr, in
Pembrokeshire, were on the contrary gorgeous in scarlet, with red
caps, and feathers waving in the wind as they danced. But others were
in white, and this appears to be the favourite hue of modern Welsh
fairy costume, when the Tylwyth Teg are in holiday garb. These various
details of colour are due to the fervour of the Welsh fancy, of
course, and perhaps their variety may in part be ascribed to a keener
sense of the fitness of things among moderns than was current in
earlier times. White, to the Welsh, would naturally be the favourite
colour for a beautiful creature, dancing in the moonlight on the
velvet sward. The most popular pet name for a Welsh lass is to-day
exactly what it has been for centuries, viz., Gwenny, the diminutive
of Gwenllian (Anglicised into Gwendoline)--a name which means simply
white linen; and the white costume of the favourite fairies
undoubtedly signifies a dress of white linen. This fabric, common as
it is in our day, was in ancient times of inestimable value. In the
Mabinogion, linen is repeatedly particularised in the gorgeous
descriptions of fabled splendour in princely castles--linen, silk,
satin, velvet, gold-lace, and jewels, are the constantly-recurring
features of sumptuous attire. In his account of the royal tribes of
Wales, Yorke mentions that linen was so rare in the reign of Charles
VII. of France (i.e., in the fifteenth century) 'that her majesty the
queen could boast of only two shifts of that commodity.' The first
cause of the fairies' robes being white is evidently to be discerned
here; and in Wales the ancient sentiment as to whiteness remains. The
Welsh peasantry, coarsely and darkly clad themselves, would make white
a purely holiday colour, and devise some other hue for such commoner
fairies as the Bwbach and his sort:
The coarse and country fairy,
That doth haunt the hearth and dairy.[61]
So the Bwbach is usually brown, often hairy; and the Coblynau are
black or copper-coloured in face as well as dress.
FOOTNOTE:
[61] Jonson, Masque of 'Oberon.'
V.
A local legend of the origin of fairies in Anglesea mingles the
practical and the spiritual in this manner: 'In our Saviour's time
there lived a woman whose fortune it was to be possessed of nearly a
score of children, ... and as she saw our blessed Lord approach her
dwelling, being ashamed of being so prolific, and that He might not
see them all, she concealed about half of them closely, and after his
departure, when she went in search of them, to her great surprise
found they were all gone. They never afterwards could be discovered,
for it was supposed that as a punishment from heaven for hiding what
God had given her, she was deprived of them; and it is said these her
offspring have generated the race called fairies.'[62]
FOOTNOTE:
[62] 'Camb. Sup.,' 118.
VI.
The common or popular theory, however, is in Wales the
poetico-religious one. This is, in a word, the belief that the Tylwyth
Teg are the souls of dead mortals not bad enough for hell nor good
enough for heaven. They are doomed to live on earth, to dwell in
secret places, until the resurrection day, when they will be admitted
into paradise. Meantime they must be either incessantly toiling or
incessantly playing, but their toil is fruitless and their pleasure
unsatisfying. A variation of this general belief holds these souls to
be the souls of the ancient Druids, a fancy which is specially
impressive, as indicating the duration of their penance, and reminds
us of the Wandering Jew myth. It is confined mainly to the Coblynau,
or dwellers in mines and caves. Another variation considers the
fairies bad spirits of still remoter origin--the same in fact who were
thrown over the battlements of heaven along with Satan, but did not
fall into hell--landed on the earth instead, where they are permitted
to tarry till doomsday as above. A detail of this theory is in
explanation of the rare appearance of fairies nowadays; they are
refraining from mischief in view of the near approach of the judgment,
with the hope of thus conciliating heaven.
The Prophet Jones, in explaining why the fairies have been so active
in Wales, expounds the poetico-religious theory in masterly form.
After stating that some in Monmouthshire were so ignorant as to think
the fairies happy spirits, because they had music and dancing among
them, he proceeds to assert, in the most emphatic terms, that the
Tylwyth Teg are nothing else, 'after all the talking about them,' but
the disembodied spirits of men who lived and died without the
enjoyment of the means of grace and salvation, as Pagans and others,
and whose punishment therefore is far less severe than that of those
who have enjoyed the means of salvation. 'But some persons may desire
to know why these fairies have appeared in Wales more than in some
other countries? to which I answer, that I can give no other reason
but this, that having lost the light of the true religion in the
eighth and ninth centuries of Christianity, and received Popery in its
stead, it became dark night upon them; and then these spirits of
darkness became more bold and intruding; and the people, as I said
before, in their great ignorance seeing them like a company of
children in dry clean places, dancing and having music among them,
thought them to be some happy beings, ... and made them welcome in
their houses.... The Welsh entered into familiarity with the fairies
in the time of Henry IV., and the evil then increased; the severe laws
of that prince enjoining, among other things, that they were not to
bring up their children to learning, etc., by which a total darkness
came upon them; which cruel laws were occasioned by the rebellion of
Owen Glandwr, and the Welsh which joined with him; foolishly thinking
to shake off the Saxon yoke before they had repented of their sins.'
Whatever their locally accepted causes of being may be, it is beyond
any question that in the fairy folk-lore of Wales, as of other lands,
are to be found the _debris_ of ancient mythology--scintillant
fragments of those magic constellations which glow in the darkness of
primeval time, grand and majestic as the vast Unknown out of which
they were evolved by barbaric fancy. Through the aid of modern
scientific research, 'those ages which the myths of centuries have
peopled with heroic shadows'[63] are brought nearer to us, and the
humble Welsh Tylwyth Teg may reach back and shake hands with the
Olympian gods.
[Illustration: "THE HUMBLE 'TYLWYTH TEG' SHAKE HANDS WITH THE
OLYMPIAN GODS."]
FOOTNOTE:
[63] Marquis of Bute, address before the Royal Archaeological
Institute, Cardiff meeting.
BOOK II.
THE SPIRIT-WORLD.
Where the wan spectres walk eternal rounds.
POPE.
_Miranda._ What is't? a spirit?
Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir,
It carries a brave form:--But 'tis a spirit.
SHAKSPEARE: _Tempest_.
CHAPTER I.
Modern Superstition regarding Ghosts--American
'Spiritualism'--Welsh Beliefs--Classification of Welsh
Ghosts--Departed Mortals--Haunted Houses--Lady Stradling's
Ghost--The Haunted Bridge--The Legend of Catrin
Gwyn--Didactic Purpose in Cambrian Apparitions--An Insulted
Corpse--Duty-performing Ghosts--Laws of the
Spirit-World--Cadogan's Ghost.
I.
In an age so given to mysticism as our own, it is unnecessary to urge
that the Welsh as a people are not more superstitious regarding
spirits than other peoples. Belief in the visits to earth of
disembodied spirits is common to all lands. There are no doubt
differences in the degree of this belief, as there are differences in
matters of detail. Where or how these spirits exist are questions much
more difficult to the average faith than why they exist. They exist
for the moral good of man; of this there prevails no doubt. The rest
belongs to the still unsettled science of the Unknowable. That form
of mysticism called 'spiritualism' by its disciples is dignified to
the thoughtful observer by being viewed as a remnant of the primeval
philosophy. When we encounter, in wandering among the picturesque
ghosts of the Welsh spirit-world, last-century stories displaying
details exactly similar to those of modern spiritualism, our interest
is strongly aroused. The student of folk-lore finds his materials in
stories and beliefs which appear to be of a widespread family, rather
than in stories and beliefs which are unique; and the spirit of
inquiry is constantly on the alert, in following the details of a good
old ghost story, however fascinating it may be in a poetic sense. The
phantoms of the Welsh spirit-world are always picturesque; they are
often ghastly; sometimes they are amusing to the point of risibility;
but besides, they are instructive to him whose purpose in studying is,
to know.
That this age is superstitious with regard to ghosts, is not
wonderful; all ages have been so; the wonder is that this age should
be so and yet be the possessor of a scientific record so extraordinary
as its own. An age which has brought forth the magnetic telegraph,
steamships and railway engines, sewing-machines, mowing-machines,
gas-light, and innumerable discoveries and inventions of marvellous
utility--not to allude to those of our own decade--should have no
other use for ghostology than a scientific one. But it would be a work
as idle as that of the Coblynau themselves, to point out how universal
among the most civilised nations is the superstition that spirits
walk. The 'controls' of the modern spiritualistic seance have the
world for their audience. The United States, a land generally
deemed--at least by its inhabitants--to be the most advanced in these
directions of any on God's footstool, gave birth to modern
spiritualism. Its disciples there compose a vast body of people,
respectable and worthy people in the main (as the victims of
superstition usually are), among whom are many men of high
intellectual ability. With the masses, some degree of belief in the
spirits is so nearly universal that I need hardly qualify the
adjective. In a country where there is practically no such class as
that represented in Europe by the peasantry, the rampancy of such a
belief is a phenomenon deserving close and curious study. The present
work affords no scope for this study, of course. But I may here
mention in further illustration of my immediate theme, the constant
appearance, in American communities, of ghosts of the old-fashioned
sort. Especially in the New England states, which are notable for
their enlightenment, are ghost-stories still frequent--such as that of
the haunted school-house at Newburyport, Mass., where a disembodied
spirit related its own murder; of the ghost of New Bedford, which
struck a visitor in the face, so that he yet bears the marks of the
blow; of the haunted house at Cambridge, in the classic shadow of
Harvard College. It is actually on record in the last-named case, that
the house fell to decay on account of its ghastly reputation, as no
one would live in it; that a tenant who ventured to occupy it in 1877
was disturbed by the spirit of a murdered girl who said her mortal
bones were buried in his cellar; and that a party of men actually dug
all night in that cellar in search of those bones, while the ghost
waltzed in a chamber overhead. The more common form of spirit peculiar
to our time appears constantly in various parts of the country; it is
continually turning up in the American newspapers, rapping on walls,
throwing stones, tipping over tables, etc. 'Mediums' of every grade
of shrewdness and stupidity, and widely differing degrees of education
and ignorance, flourish abundantly. Occasionally, where revelations of
murder have been made to a mortal by a spirit, the police have taken
the matter in hand. It is to be observed as a commendable practice in
such cases, that the mortal is promptly arrested by the police if
there has really been a murder; and when the fact appears, as it
sometimes does, that the mortal had need of no ghost to tell him what
he knows, he is hanged.
II.
The Welsh dearly love to discuss questions of a spiritual and
religious nature, and there are no doubt many who look upon disbelief
herein as something approaching paganism. That one should believe in
God and a future life, and yet be utterly incredulous as to the
existence of a mundane spirit-world, seems to such minds impossible.
It is not many years since the clergy taught a creed of this sort. One
must not only believe in a spiritual existence, but must believe in
that existence here below--must believe that ghosts walked, and
meddled, and made disagreeable noises. Our friend the Prophet Jones
taught this creed with energy. In his relation of apparitions in
Monmouthshire, he says: 'Enough is said in these relations to satisfy
any reasonable sober-minded person, and to confute this ancient
heresy, now much revived and spreading, especially among the gentry,
and persons much estranged from God and spiritual things; and such as
will not be satisfied with things plainly proved and well designed;
are, in this respect, no better than fools, and to be despised as
such.... They are chiefly women and men of weak and womanish
understandings, who speak against the accounts of spirits and
apparitions. In some women this comes from a certain proud fineness,
excessive delicacy, and a superfine disposition which cannot bear to
be disturbed with what is strange and disagreeable to a vain spirit.'
Nor does the Prophet hesitate to apply the term 'Sadducees' to all
doubters of his goblins. His warrant for this is found in Wesley and
Luther. That Luther saw apparitions, or believed he did, is commonly
known. Wesley's beliefs in this direction, however, are of a nearer
century, and strike us more strangely; though it must be said that the
Prophet Jones, in our own century, believed more than either of his
eminent prototypes. 'It is true,' wrote Wesley, 'that the English in
general, and indeed most of the men in Europe, have given up all
accounts of witches and apparitions as mere old wives' fables. I am
sorry for it, and I willingly take this opportunity of entering my
solemn protest against this violent compliment which so many that
believe the Bible pay to those who do _not_ believe it.... They well
know, whether Christians know it or not, that the giving up witchcraft
is, in effect, giving up the Bible. And they know, on the other hand,
that if but one account of the intercourse of men with separate
spirits be admitted, their whole castle in the air--deism, atheism,
materialism--falls to the ground.'
III.
The ghosts of Wales present many well-defined features. It is even
possible to classify them, after a fashion. Of course, as with all
descriptions of phantoms, the vagueness inevitable in creatures of the
imagination is here; but the ghosts of Welsh tradition are often so
old, and have been handed down so cleanly through successive
generations, that in our day they have almost acquired definite
outlines, as in the case of images arising from the perceptions.
Always bearing in mind the risk of being lost in the labyrinthine
eccentricities of popular fancy, compared to which the Arsinoe of
Herodotus was unperplexing, I venture to classify the inhabitants of
the Welsh spirit-world thus: 1. Departed Mortals; 2. Goblin Animals;
3. Spectres of Natural Objects; 4. Grotesque Ghosts; 5. Familiar
Spirits; 6. Death Omens.
IV.
The ghosts of departed mortals are usually the late personal
acquaintances of the people who see them. But sometimes they are
strangers whom nobody knows, and concerning whom everybody is curious.
Two such ghosts haunted the streets of Ebbw Vale, in Glamorganshire,
in January, 1877. One was in the shape of an old woman, the other in
that of a girl child. Timid people kept indoors after nightfall, and
there were many who believed thoroughly in the ghostly character of
the mysterious visitors. Efforts were made to catch them, but they
eluded capture. It was hinted by materialists that they were thieves;
by unbelievers in spiritualism that they had perhaps escaped from a
seance in some adjoining town. These ghosts, however, are not very
interesting. A cultivated moderner can have no satisfaction in forming
the acquaintance of a seance ghost; it is quite otherwise in the case
of a respectable old family goblin which has haunted a friend's house
in the most orthodox manner for centuries. Such ghosts are numerous in
Wales, and quite faithfully believed in by selected individuals.
Indeed one of the highest claims to a dignified antiquity that can be
put in by a Welsh family mansion, is the possession of a good
old-fashioned blood-curdling spectre--like that, for example, which
has haunted Duffryn House, a handsome stone manse near Cardiff, for
the past two hundred years and more. This is the ghost of the doughty
admiral Sir Thomas Button, famed in his day as an Arctic navigator.
Since his death he has faithfully haunted (so the local farm folk say)
the cellar and the garden of Duffryn House, where he lived, when he
did live, which was in the 17th century. He has never been known to
appear in hall or chamber of the mansion, within the memory of man,
but has been seen hovering over the beer butt or tun in the cellar,
commemorated in his name, and walking in the flower-garden of a fine
windy night.
It is noteworthy that in Wales it is by no means necessary that a
house should be tenantless, mortally speaking, merely because a ghost
haunts it. The dreary picture of desolation drawn by Hood, the
all-sufficient explanation of which was--
... the place is haunted!
would not recall the smug tidiness of Duffryn House, whose clean-cut
lawns and well-trimmed hedges are fit surroundings of a mansion where
luxurious comfort reigns. A ghost which confines itself to the cellar
and the garden need disturb neither the merrymaking nor the slumbers
of the guests.
St. Donat's Castle is down on the southern coast of Glamorganshire, in
a primitive region not yet profaned by railroads, nor likely to be
perhaps for many years to come. It is owned and inhabited by a worthy
gentleman whose ancestors for seven centuries sleep in the graveyard
under the old castle wall. Its favourite ghost--for to confine this
or any other ancient Welsh castle to a single ghost would be almost
disrespectful--is that of Lady Stradling, who was done away with by
some of her family in those wicked old times when families did not
always dwell in peace together. This ghost makes a practice of
appearing when any mishap is about to befall a member of the house of
Stradling--the direct line of which is, however, extinct, a fact not
very well apprehended among the neighbouring peasantry. She wears
high-heeled shoes and a long trailing gown of the finest silk. In this
guise doth she wander up and down the long majestic halls and
chambers, and, while she wanders, the castle hounds refuse to rest,
but with their howlings raise all the dogs of the village under the
hill.
V.
Ghosts of this sort are vague and purposeless in character, beyond a
general blood-curdling office which in all ghosts doth dwell. They
haunt not only castles and family mansions, but bridges, rocks, and
roads, objectless but frightful. The ghost of Pont Cwnca Bach, near
Yscanhir, in Carmarthenshire, frightens people off the bridge into the
rivulet. Many belated peasants have had this dire experience at the
little bridge, afterwards wandering away in a dazed condition, and
finding themselves on recovering at some distance from home, often in
the middle of a bog. In crossing this bridge people were seized with
'a kind of _cold dread_,' and felt 'a peculiar sensation' which they
could not describe, but which the poorest fancy can no doubt imagine.
Another purposeless spectre exists in the legend of Catrin Gwyn, told
in Cardiganshire. The ruin of a shepherd's cottage, standing on a
mountain waste near the river Rheidol, is the haunt of this spectre.
A peasant who was asked to escort a stranger up the narrow defile of
rocks by the ruin, in horror exclaimed, 'Yn enw y daioni, peidiwch,'
(in the name of heaven, sir, don't go!) 'or you'll meet White Catti of
the Grove Cave.' 'And what's that?' 'An evil spirit, sir.' And the
superstitious peasant would neither be laughed nor reasoned out of his
fears. Catrin was the bride of a young shepherd living near
Machynlleth in 1705. One day she went to market with a party of other
peasants, who separated from her on the return way at a point two
miles from Gelli Gogo. She was never more seen alive. A violent storm
arose in the night, and next day a scrap of her red cloak was found on
the edge of a frightful bog, in which she is believed to have
disappeared in the darkness and storm. The husband went mad; their
cottage fell to decay; and to this day the shepherds declare that
Catti's ghost haunts the spot. It is most often seen, and in its most
terrific shape, during howling storms, when it rides on the gale,
shrieking as it goes.[64]
FOOTNOTE:
[64] 'Camb. Quarterly,' i., 452.
VI.
Few Cambrian spirits are devoid of a didactic purpose. Some teach
reverence for the dead,--a lesson in great request among the rising
generation in Wales and elsewhere. The church at Tregaron,
Cardiganshire, was being rebuilt in 1877, and certain skulls were
turned up by the diggers in making new foundations. The boys of
Tregaron amused themselves playing ball with the skulls, picking out
their teeth, banging them against the wall to see if they would break,
and the like.[65] They probably never heard the story told by Mrs.
Morgan of Newport to the Prophet Jones: of some people who were
drinking at an inn there, 'two of them officers of excise,' when one
of the men, to show his courage, declared he was afraid of no ghosts,
and dared go to the charnel house and fetch a skull from that ghastly
place. This bold and dangerous thing he did, and the men debated, over
their beer, whether it was a male or a female skull, and concluded it
was a woman's, 'though the grave nearly destroys the difference
between male and female before the bones are turned to dust, and the
difference then quite destroyed and known only to God.' After a jolly
hour over the skull, the bold one carried it back and left it where he
got it; but as he was leaving the church, suddenly a tremendous blast
like a whirlwind seized him, and so mauled and hauled him that his
teeth chattered in his head and his knees knocked together, and he
ever after swore that nothing should tempt him to such a deed again.
He was still more convinced that the ghost of the original owner of
the skull had been after him, when he got home, and his wife told him
that his cane, which hung in the room, had been beating against the
wall in a dreadful manner.
FOOTNOTE:
[65] 'Western Mail,' Dec. 14, 1877.
VII.
As a rule, the motive for the reappearance on earth of a spirit lately
tenanting a mortal body, is found in some neglected duty. The spirit
of a suicide is morally certain to walk: a reason why suicides are so
unpopular as tenants of graveyards. It is a brave man who will go to
the grave of a suicide and play 'Hob y deri dando' on the ysturmant
(jew's-harp), without missing a note. Many are the tales displaying
the motive, on the ghost's part, of a duty to perform--sometimes
clearly defining it, sometimes vaguely suggesting it, as in the story
of Noe. 'The evening was far gone when a traveller of the name of Noe
arrived at an inn in Pembrokeshire, and called for refreshment. After
remaining some time he remarked that he must proceed on his journey.
"Surely," said the astonished landlord, "you will not travel at night,
for it is said that a ghost haunts that road, crying out, The days are
long and the nights are cold to wait for Noe." "O, I am the man sought
for," said he, and immediately departed; but strange to say, neither
Noe nor the ghost was ever heard of afterwards.'[66]
The ghost of a weaver, which appeared to Walter John Harry, had a very
clear idea of the duty he must perform: Walter John Harry was a
Quaker, a harmless, honest man, and by trade a farrier, who lived in
the romantic valley of Ebwy Fawr. The house he lived in was haunted by
the ghost of Morgan Lewis, a weaver, who had died in that house. One
night, while lying awake in his bed, with his wife sleeping by his
side, Harry saw a light slowly ascending the stairs, and being
somewhat afraid, though he was naturally a fearless man, strove to
awake his wife by pinching her, but could not awake her. So there he
lay in great fear, and with starting eyes beheld the ghost of the
weaver come up the stairs, bearing a candle in its hand, and wearing a
white woollen cap on its head, with other garments usual to the weaver
when alive. The ghost came near the farrier's bed, who then mustered
up courage to speak to it. 'Morgan Lewis,' said Harry, 'why dost thou
walk this earth?' The ghost replied with great solemnity, that its
reason for so doing was that there were some 'bottoms of wool' hidden
in the wall of this house, and until these said bottoms were removed
from the wall it could not sleep. The ghost did not say this wool had
been stolen, but such was the inference. However, the harmless farrier
spoke severely to the ghost, saying, 'I charge thee, Morgan Lewis, in
the name of God, that thou trouble my house no more.' Whereupon the
ghost vanished, and the house ceased thereafter to be haunted.
The motives animating ghosts are much the same the world over, and
these details have no greater novelty than that of the local
colouring. European peoples are familiar with the duty-compelled
ghost; but it is odd to encounter the same spectre in China. The most
common form of Chinese ghost-story is that wherein the ghost seeks to
bring to justice the murderer who shuffled off its mortal coil. The
ghosts of suicides are also especially obnoxious there. The spectres
which are animated by a sense of duty are more frequently met than any
others: now they seek to serve virtue in distress, now they aim to
restore wrongfully-held treasure.[67]
FOOTNOTES:
[66] 'Camb. Sup.,' 31.
[67] Dennys, 'Folk-Lore of China,' 73.
VIII.
The laws governing the Welsh spirit-world are clear and explicit. A
ghost on duty bent has no power of speech until first spoken to. Its
persistency in haunting is due to its eager desire to speak, and tell
its urgent errand, but the person haunted must take his courage in
both hands and put the question to the issue. Having done so, he is
booked for the end of the business, be it what it may. The mode of
speech adopted must not vary, in addressing a spirit; in the name of
the Father, Son, or Holy Ghost it must be addressed, and not
otherwise. Its business must be demanded; three times the question
must be repeated, unless the ghost answer earlier. When it answers, it
speaks in a low and hollow voice, stating its desire; and it must not
be interrupted while speaking, for to interrupt it is dangerous in the
extreme. At the close of its remarks, questions are in order. They
must be promptly delivered, however, or the ghost will vanish. They
must bear on the business in hand: it is offended if asked as to its
state, or other idle questions born of curiosity. Neglect to obey the
ghost's injunctions will lead to much annoyance, and eventually to
dire results. At first the spirit will appear with a discontented
visage, next with an angry one, and finally with a countenance
distorted with the most ferocious rage. Obedience is the only method
of escape from its revenge. Such is a _resume_ of the laws. The
illustrations thereof are generally consistent in their details.
The story of Cadogan's ghost is one of many in kind. Thomas Cadogan
was the owner of a large estate in the parish of Llanvihangel
Llantarnam, and being a covetous man did wickedly remove his landmarks
in such a way as to absorb to himself part of the land of a widow his
neighbour. After his death this injustice troubled him, and as a
certain woman was going home one night, at a stile she passed over she
met Cadogan's ghost. By a strange forgetfulness, this woman for the
moment lost sight of the fact that Cadogan was now a ghost; she had
momentarily forgotten that Cadogan was dead. 'Mr. Cadogan,' said she,
with ungrammatical curiosity, 'what does you here this time o' night?'
To which the ghost answered, 'I was obliged to come.' It then
explained the matter of the landmarks, and begged the woman to request
a certain person (whom it mentioned) to remove them back to their
proper places; and then the ghost vanished. At this unexpected
termination of the interview, the woman suddenly recollected Cadogan's
death, and fell into a state of extreme terror. She however did as the
ghost had bidden her, and Cadogan walked no more.
CHAPTER II.
Household Ghosts and Hidden Treasures--The Miser of St.
Donat's--Anne Dewy's Ghost--The Ghost on Horseback--Hidden
Objects of Small Value--Transportation through the Air--From
Breconshire to Philadelphia, Pa., in Thirty-Six Hours--Sir
David Llwyd, the Magician--The Levitation of Walter
Jones--Superstitions regarding Hares--The Legend of
Monacella's Lambs--Aerial Transportation in Modern
Spiritualism--Exorcising Household Ghosts--The Story of
Haunted Margaret.
I.
The majority of stories of this class turn on the subject of hidden
treasures. The popular belief is that if a person die while any
hoarded money--or indeed metal of any kind, were it nothing more than
old iron--is still hidden secretly, the spirit of that person cannot
rest. Its perturbation can only be relieved by finding a human hand to
take the hidden metal, and throw it down the stream of a river. To
throw it up the stream, will not do. The Ogmore is the favourite river
for this purpose in lower Glamorganshire. The spirit selects a
particular person as the subject of its attentions, and haunts that
person till asked what it wants, when it prefers its request. Some say
it is only ill-gotten treasure which creates this disturbance of the
grave's repose. A tailor's wife at Llantwit Major, who had been a
stout and jolly dame, was thus haunted until she was worn to the
semblance of a skeleton, 'for not choosing to take a hoard honestly to
the Ogmore.' But flesh and blood could not resist for ever, and
so--this is her story: 'I at last consented, for the sake of quiet,
to take the treasure to the river; and the spirit wafted me through
the air so high that I saw below me the church loft, and all the
houses, as if I leaned out of a balloon. When I took the treasure to
throw it into the river, in my flurry I flung it up stream instead of
down: and on this the spirit, with a savage look, tossed me into a
whirlwind, and however I got back to my home I know not.' The
bell-ringers found her lying insensible in the church lane, as they
were going home from church late in the evening.
II.
There was an old curmudgeon of a money-hoarder who lived in a cottage
on the side of the cwm, or dingle, at St. Donat's, not far from the
Castle. His housekeeper was an antique dame of quaint aspect. He died,
and the dame lived there alone; but she began to grow so gaunt and
grizzly that people wondered at it, and the children ran frightened
from her. Some one finally got from her the confession that she was
haunted by the miser's ghost. To relieve her of its presence the
Methodists resolved to hold a prayer-meeting in the haunted house.
While they were there singing and praying the old woman suddenly
jumped up and screamed, 'There he is! there he is!' The people grew
silent. Then some one said, 'Ask it what it wants.' 'What do you
want?' quavered the old woman. No one heard the reply, except the
dame, who presently said: 'Where is it?' Then the old woman, nodding
and staring as if obeying an invisible mandate, groped her way to the
chimney, thrust her gaunt arm up, and drew down a bag of money. With
this she cried out, 'Let me go! let me go!' which, no one preventing
her, she did, as quickly as a flash of light. Some young men by the
door followed her, and, it being a bright moonlight night, beheld her
whisk over the stile without touching it, and so off up the road
towards the Ogmore. The people now resumed their praying and singing.
It was an hour before the old woman got back, and then she was found
to be spattered with mud and bedraggled with wet, as if she had been
having a terrific time. She had indeed, as she confessed, been to the
Ogmore, and thrown the bag of money down the stream; the ghost had
then taken off its hat, made a low bow, and vanished, to trouble her
no more.
III.
A young man from Llywel parish, who was courting a lass who lodged at
the house of Thomas Richard, in the vale of Towy, found himself
haunted as he went to and fro by the ghost of Anne Dewy, a woman who
had hanged herself. She would not only meet him in the road, and
frighten him, but she would come to his bedside, and so scare him that
he fell ill. While he was ill his cousin came to see him, and thinking
his illness was due to his being crossed in love, rallied him, saying,
'Wfft! thou'rt sick because thy cariad has refused thee.' But being
gravely answered, and told of Anne Dewy's ghost, this cousin advised
the haunted man to speak to her. 'Speak to her,' said he, 'or thou
wilt have no quiet. I will go with thee, and see thou shalt have no
harm.' So they went out, and called at Tafarn y Garreg, an inn not far
off; but the haunted man could not drink, and often looked towards the
door. 'What ails the man?' asked the tap-room loungers. He continued
to be uneasy, and finally went out, his cousin following him, and then
he saw the ghost again. 'Oh God, here she is!' he cried out, his teeth
chattering and his eyes rolling. 'This is a sad thing,' said his
cousin: 'I know not what to think of thee; but come, I will go with
thee, go where thou wilt.' They returned to the ale-house, and after a
while the haunted man started up, saying he was called, but when
others offered to go with him he said no, he must go alone. He did go
alone, and spoke to the ghost, who said, 'Fear nothing; follow me.'
She led him to a spot behind the house where she had lived when in the
flesh, and where she had hanged herself, and bade him take from the
wall a small bag. He did so. The bag contained 'a great sum of money,'
in pieces of gold; he guessed it might be 200_l._ or more. But the
ghost, greatly to his regret, bade him go and cast it into the river.
He obeyed, against his better judgment. The next day, and for many a
day thereafter, people looked for that money where he had thrown it in
the river, but it never could be found. The Rev. Thomas Lewis, a
dissenting minister in those parts, saw the place in the wall where
the money had been hid, in the haunted house, and wondered how the
young man could reach it, it being so very high; but thought it likely
he was assisted by the ghost.
IV.
This same Rev. Thomas Lewis was well acquainted with a man who was
similarly employed by a perturbed spirit, and was at the man's bedside
when he died. This ghost was in appearance a clergyman, dressed in
black clothes, with a white wig on. As the man was looking out of an
ale-house window one night, he saw this ghost on horseback, and went
out to him. The ghost bowed and silently offered him drink; but this
was declined. Thereupon the ghost lifted his hat, crooked his elbow,
and said in a hollow tone, 'Attoch chwi, syr,' (towards you, sir).
But others who were there could see nothing and hear nothing. The
ghost then said, 'Go to Clifford Castle, in Radnorshire, take out some
money which lies hidden there, and throw it into the river. Do this, I
charge thee, or thou shalt have no rest.' Further and more explicit
directions were then given, and the unhappy man set out, against his
will, for Clifford Castle, which is the castle in which was born Fair
Rosamond, King Henry II.'s beautiful favourite. No one but himself was
allowed to enter the castle, although he was permitted to have a
friend's company to the ruined gate thereof. It was dark when they
came to the castle, but he was guided to the place where the money
was, and ran with it and flung it into the river. After that he was
haunted no more.
An old house at Ty'n-y-Twr, in Carnarvonshire, was haunted by a ghost
whose troubles were a reversal of the rule. A new tenant, who took
possession of the house a few years ago, was so bothered by this
spectre that he resolved to question it. He did so and got for answer
the information that if he would deposit a particular sum of money in
a specified place, his ghostship would cease to walk. The man actually
did this, and it acted like magic. The money disappeared with
promptitude, and the ghost came there no more.
A man at Crumlyn, Monmouthshire, was haunted by a ghost whose trouble
related to a hidden object of small value. Nevertheless the spectre
was so importunate that the man set out one night to accompany it to
the scene of perturbation. In due time they came to a huge stone,
which the ghost bade its friend lift up, who replied that he had not
sufficient strength, it being a pretty large rock he was thus
requested to move. 'But try,' said the ghost. So he tried, and lo! it
was lifted as if it had been a feather. He drew forth a pike, or
mattock; 'and the light,' the man afterwards related, 'was as great as
if the sun shone; and in the snow there was no impression of the feet
of either of us.' They went to the river, and by the ghost's command
the man threw the pike over his head into the water, standing with his
back to the flood. The ghost then conducted him home, and never
troubled him more. But for a long time after he was out of his senses.
This was an illustration, according to the popular belief, of the
wickedness of hiding anything, however trifling its value--a practice
strongly condemned by the Welsh peasantry.
There is a Glamorganshire story about a certain young man who,
returning late at night from courting his sweetheart, felt tired, and
sitting down fell asleep. He had not slept long when he was aroused by
a strange noise, and looking up recognised the ghost of his departed
grandfather. Enquiring the cause of the old gentleman's visit to this
scene of trials, he got this answer: 'Under the corner of the thatch
of your roof, look and you will find a pair of silver spurs,
surreptitiously obtained by me when in the flesh, and hidden there.
Throw them into the river Taff, and I shall be at peace.' The young
man obeyed these instructions, and found the spurs accordingly; and
although many persons were present when he climbed to the roof and
fumbled under the thatch, and saw him in the very act, not one among
them could see the spurs, which were to them invisible. They said,
however, that when the purloined spurs had been thrown into the river,
a bright flame was seen to flash along the water.
V.
A large proportion of these stories of ghostly perturbation concerning
hidden treasure include a further feature of great interest, relating
to transportation through the air. I have mentioned that ghosts
sometimes employ the services of the fairy Boobach in thus carrying
mortals from place to place. The fairies of Wales are indeed
frequently found to be on the best of terms with the ghosts. Their
races have much in common, and so many of their practices are alike
that one is not always absolutely sure whether he is dealing with a
fairy or a spectre, until some test-point crops up. However, in
transporting a mortal through the air, ghost and fairy work together.
The Boobach being set his task, complaisantly gives the mortal the
choice of being transported above wind, amid wind, or below wind. The
value of knowing beforehand what to expect, was never better
illustrated than in this place. The mortal who, with a natural
reluctance to get into an unpleasantly swift current, avoids
travelling mid-wind, misses a pleasant journey, for mid-wind is the
only agreeable mode of being borne by a Boobach. Should you choose to
go above wind, you are transported so high that you skim the clouds
and are in danger of being frightened to death. But choosing the
below-wind course is even worse, for then you are dragged through
bush, through briar, in a way to impress upon you the advice of Apollo
to Phaeton, and teach you the value of the golden mean. _In medio
tutissimus ibis._
VI.
In the parish of Ystradgynlais, in Breconshire, Thomas Llewellyn, an
innkeeper's son, was often troubled by the spirit of a well-dressed
woman, who used to stand before him in narrow lanes, as if to bar his
passage, but he always got by her, though in great alarm. One night he
mustered up courage to speak to her, and ask her what she wanted with
him. To which she replied, 'Be not afraid; I will not hurt thee.' Then
she told him he must go to 'Philadelphia in Pennsylvania,' and take a
box from a house there, (which she described,) in which there was a
sum of 200_l._ But as he did not know how to go to that far-off place,
he said as much. 'Meet me here next Friday night,' said the phantom;
'meet me, I charge thee.' She then vanished. The young man went home
and told this story to his neighbours and friends. They held a
consultation with the curate of the parish, who promptly appointed a
prayer-meeting for that Friday night, to which the young man was
bidden, and by which it was hoped the purpose of the ghost to spirit
him off to Philadelphia might be circumvented. The meeting continued
until midnight, and when it broke up the young man's friends stayed
with him; but they had no sooner got beyond the parson's stables than
he was taken from among them. His subsequent adventures are thus
related by himself: 'The apparition carried me away to a river, and
threw me into it, chiding me for telling the people of our appointed
meeting and for not coming to meet her as she had charged me; but bade
me be not afraid, that she would not hurt me, because she had not
charged me to be silent on the subject; nevertheless I had done wrong
to go to the parson's house. Now, said she, we begin the journey. I
was then lifted up and carried away I know not how. When I came to the
place,' (in Philadelphia,) 'I was taken into a house, and conducted to
a fine room. The spirit then bade me lift up a board, which I did. I
then saw the box, and took it. Then the spirit said I must go three
miles and cast it into the black sea. We went, as I thought, to a lake
of clear water, where I was commanded to throw the box into it; which
when I did there was such a noise as if all about was going to pieces.
From thence I was taken up and carried to the place where I was first
taken up. I then asked her, Am I free now? She said I was; and then
she told me a secret, which she strictly charged me to tell no
person.' Extensive and ingenious guessing was indulged in by all
Ystradgynlais, as to what this secret might be; and one woman made
herself popular by remembering that there was a certain Elizabeth
Gething in other days who had gone from this neighbourhood to
Pennsylvania, and the conclusion was eagerly arrived at, that this was
the woman whose phantom the young man saw, and that the secret she
told him was her name when alive. They questioned him as to her
appearance, and he said she was largely made, very pale, her looks
severe, and her voice hollow, different from a human voice. This was
considered by the Ystradgynlaisians, with many nods to each other, as
a most accurate description of what Elizabeth Gething would probably
be, after having shuffled off this mortal coil. The time occupied in
this mysterious transportation and ghostly enterprise was three days
and three nights; that is, from Friday night to Monday night; and when
the voyager came home he could scarcely speak.
VII.
Sir David Llwyd, the Welsh magician, was once at Lanidloes town, in
Montgomeryshire, and as he was going home late at night, saw a boy
there from his neighbourhood. He asked the lad if he would like to
ride home behind him, and receiving an affirmative reply, took the boy
up behind on the horse's back. They rode so swiftly that they were
home in no time, and the boy lost one of his garters in the journey.
The next day, seeing something hanging in the ash-tree near the
church, he climbed up to learn what it was, and to his great surprise
found it was the garter he had lost. 'Which shows they rode home in
the air,' observes the Prophet Jones in telling the story. Mr. Jones
has a number of extraordinary narratives of this class--e.g., the
following, which I condense:
Henry Edmund, of Hafodafel, was one night visiting Charles Hugh, the
conjuror of Aberystruth, and they walked together as far as Lanhiddel,
where Hugh tried to persuade his companion to stay all night with him
at a public house. Edmund refused, and said he would go home. 'You had
_better_ stay,' said Hugh in a meaning tone. But Edmund went out into
the street, when he was seized by invisible hands and borne through
the air to Landovery, in Carmarthenshire, a distance of fully fifty
miles as the crow flies. There he was set down at a public house where
he had before been, and talked with people who knew him. He then went
out into the street, when he was seized again and borne back to
Lanhiddel, arriving there the next morning at daybreak. The first man
he met was the conjuror Charles Hugh, who said, 'Did I not tell you
you had better stay with me?'
VIII.
The landlord of the inn at Langattock Crickhowel, in Breconshire, was
a man called Richard the Tailor. He was more than suspected of
resorting to the company of fairies, and of practising infernal arts.
One day a company of gentlemen were hunting in that vicinity, when the
hounds started a hare, which ran so long and so hard that everybody
was prostrated with fatigue; and this hare disappeared from view at
the cellar window of the inn kept by Richard the Tailor. The
circumstance begat a suspicion among the hunters that the hare which
had so bothered them was none other than Richard the Tailor himself,
and that his purpose in taking that form had been to lead them a dance
and bring them to the door of his inn at an hour too late for them to
return home, thus compelling them to spend their money there. They
stayed, however, being very tired. But they growled very hard at their
landlord and were perfectly free with their comments on his base
conduct. One of their party, having occasion to go out-doors during
the evening, did not come back; his name was Walter Jones, and he was
well known in that part of the country. The company became uneasy at
his absence, and began to abuse the landlord roundly, threatening to
burn the house if Walter Jones did not return. Notwithstanding their
threats, Walter Jones came not back all night. Late the next morning
he made his appearance, looking like one who had been drawn through
thorns and briars, with his hair in disorder, and his whole aspect
terribly demoralised. His story was soon told. He had no sooner got
out-doors than invisible hands had whisked him up, and whirled him
along rough ways until daybreak, when he found himself near by the
town of Newport, helping a man from Risca to raise a load of coal upon
his horse. Suddenly he became insensible, and was whisked back again
to the inn where they now saw him. The distance he traversed in going
to and fro was about forty miles. And Walter Jones, who had hitherto
been an ungodly man, mended his ways from that time forth.
IX.
There are many points in all these traditional stories which are
suggestive of interesting comparisons, and constantly remind us of the
significance of details which, at first sight, seem trivial. The
supposed adoption of the hare form by the tailor recalls a host of
mythological details. The hare has been identified with the sun-god
Michabo of the American Indians, who sleeps through the winter months,
and symbolises the sleep of nature precisely as in the fairy myth of
the Sleeping Maiden, and the Welsh legends of Sleeping Heroes. Among
the Hottentots, the hare figures as the servant of the moon. In China,
the hare is viewed as a telluric genius in one province, and
everywhere as a divine animal. In Wales, one of the most charming of
the local legends relates how a hare flying from the hounds took
refuge under a fair saint's robes, so that hares were ever after
called Monacella's Lambs in that parish. Up to a comparatively recent
time, no person in the parish would kill a hare. When a hare was
pursued by dogs, it was firmly believed that if any one cried, 'God
and St. Monacella be with thee,' it was sure to escape. The legend is
related by Pennant, in his tour through Montgomeryshire: 'At about two
miles distant from Llangynog, I turned up a small valley to the right,
to pay my devotions to the shrine of St. Monacella, or, as the Welsh
style her, Melangell.... She was the daughter of an Irish monarch, who
had determined to marry her to a nobleman of his court. The princess
had vowed celibacy. She fled from her father's dominions, and took
refuge in this place, where she lived fifteen years without seeing
the face of man. Brochwel Yscythrog, prince of Powys, being one day a
hare-hunting, pursued his game till he came to a great thicket; when
he was amazed to find a virgin of surprising beauty engaged in deep
devotion, with the hare he had been pursuing under her robe, boldly
facing the dogs, who retired to a distance, howling, notwithstanding
all the efforts of the sportsmen to make them seize their prey. When
the huntsman blew his horn, it stuck to his lips. Brochwel heard her
story, and gave to God and her a parcel of lands to be a sanctuary to
all who fled there. He desired her to found an abbey on the spot. She
did so, and died abbess of it, in a good old age. She was buried in
the neighbouring church.... Her hard bed is shown in the cleft of a
neighbouring rock. Her tomb was in a little chapel, or oratory,
adjoining to the church and now used as a vestry-room. This room is
still called cell y bedd, (cell of the grave).... The legend is
perpetuated by some rude wooden carvings of the saint, with numbers of
hares scuttling to her for protection.'
X.
It is interesting to observe, in connection with the subject of
transportation through the air, with what vitality this superstition
lingers in modern spiritualism. The accounts of such transportation
are familiar to every reader of newspapers. That Mr. Home was seen, by
a learned English nobleman, sailing through the moonlight seventy feet
from the ground, is on record; that Mrs. Guppy was transported from
Highbury Park to Lamb's Conduit Street, in London, in a trance and a
state of partial _deshabille_, is also on record; and that a
well-known American spiritualist was borne by invisible hands from
Chicago to Milwaukee and back, between midnight and 4 A.M., I have
been assured by a number of persons in Illinois who thoroughly
believed it, or said they did. But it certainly is not too much to
demand, that people who give credence to these instances of aerial
transportation should equally believe in the good old ghost stories of
the Welsh. The same consistency calls for credulity as to the
demoniacal elevation of Simon Magus, and the broomstick riding of the
witches whose supernatural levitation was credited by Lord Bacon and
Sir Matthew Hale, not to speak of Addison and Wesley.
There is something peculiarly fascinating to the gross denizens of
earth in this notion of skimming like a bird over house-tops. No
dreams, save those of love and dalliance, are so charming to the
dreamer as visions of flying; to find oneself floating along over the
tops of trees, over the streets where less favoured mortals walk, to
look down on them as they stroll, is to feel an exquisite pleasure.
The mind of childhood and that of ignorance, alike unable to
discriminate between reality and illusion, would naturally retain the
impression of such a dream with peculiar vividness. The superstition
has no doubt been fostered by this fact, although it, like most
superstitions, began its career in pre-historic days. The same class
of belief attaches to the magical lore of widely separated lands, in
all ages. The magic carpet of the Arabian Nights finds its parallel
to-day in the enchanted mat of the Chinese conjuror, which carries him
from place to place, at a height of twenty or thirty feet in the air.
The levitation involved is in Welsh story embodied in the person of
Sgilti Yscawndroed; when he was sent on a message through the wood he
went along the tops of the trees; in his whole life, a blade of reed
grass never bent beneath his feet, so light was his tread.[68]
FOOTNOTE:
[68] Lady Charlotte Guest's 'Mabinogion,' 225.
XI.
It remains but to add, in connection with our household ghosts, that
the method of exorcising such goblins in Wales is explicit. The
objectionable spectre must be conjured, in the name of Heaven, to
depart, and return no more. Not always is this exorcism effective; the
ghost may have a specific purpose in hand, or it may be obstinate. The
strength of the exorcism is doubled by employing the Latin language to
deliver it; it receives its utmost power, however, through the clergy;
three clergymen, it is thought, will exorcise any ghost that walks.
The exorcism is usually for a stated period; seven years is the
favourite time; one hundred years the limit. There are many instances
where a ghost which had been laid a hundred years returned at the end
of the time to its old haunts. In all cases it is necessary the ghost
should agree to be exorcised; no power can lay it if it be possessed
of an evil demon--a spirit within a spirit, as it were--which
stubbornly refuses to listen to argument. In such cases the terrors of
Heaven must be rigorously invoked; but the result is only temporary.
Properly constituted family ghosts, however, will lend a reasonable
ear to entreaty, backed by prayer. There are even cases on record
where the ghost has been the entreater, as in the story of Haunted
Margaret.
Haunted Margaret, or Marget yr Yspryd, was a servant-girl who lived in
the parish of Panteg. She had been seduced by a man who promised to
marry her, and a day was set for their wedding; but when the day came,
the man was not on hand, and Margaret thereupon fell on her knees in
the church and prayed Heaven that her seducer might have no rest
either in this world or in the world to come. In due course the man
died, and immediately his ghost came to haunt Margaret Richard. People
heard her in the night saying to the ghost, 'What dost thou want?' or
'Be quiet, let me alone;' and hence it was that she came to be known
in that parish by the nickname of Marget yr Yspryd. One evening when
the haunted woman was at the house of Mrs. Hercules Jenkins, at
Trosdra, she began to be uneasy, and as it grew late said, 'I must go
now, or else I shall be sure to meet him on the way home.' Mrs.
Jenkins advised Margaret to speak to him; 'and tell him thou dost
forgive him,' said the good dame. Margaret went her way, and as she
drew near a stile at the end of a foot-bridge, she saw the ghost at
the stile waiting for her. When she came up to it the ghost said, 'Do
thou forgive me, and God will forgive thee. Forgive me and I shall be
at rest, and never trouble thee any more.' Margaret then forgave him,
and he shook hands with her in a friendly way, and vanished.
CHAPTER III.
Spectral Animals--The Chained Spirit--The Gwyllgi, or Dog of
Darkness--The Legend of Lisworney-Crossways--The Gwyllgi of
the Devil's Nags--The Dog of Pant y Madog--Terrors of the
Brute Creation at Phantoms--Apparitions of Natural
Objects--Phantom Ships and Phantom Islands.
I.
Of spectral animals there is no great diversity in Cambria, unless one
should class under this head sundry poetic creatures which more
properly belong to the domain of magic, or to fairyland. The spirits
of favourite animals which have died return occasionally to visit
their masters. Sometimes it is a horse, which is seen on a dark night
looking in at the window, its eyes preternaturally large. More often
it is the ghost of a dog which revisits the glimpses of the moon. Men
sometimes become as fondly attached to a dog as they could to any
human being, and, where the creed of piety is not too severe, the
possibility of a dog's surviving after death in a better world is
admitted. 'It is hard to look in that dog's eyes and believe,' said a
Welshman to me, 'that he has not a bit of a soul to be saved.' The
almost human companionship of the dog for man is a familiar fact. It
is not strange, therefore, that the dog should be the animal whose
spirit, in popular belief, shares the nature of man's after death.
II.
Sometimes the spirit in animal form is the spirit of a mortal, doomed
to wear this shape for some offence. This again trenches on the
ground of magic; but the ascription to the spirit-world is distinct in
modern instances. There was a Rev. Mr. Hughes, a clergyman of the
Church of England, in the isle and county of Anglesea, who was
esteemed the most popular preacher thereabout in the last century, and
upon this account was envied by the rest of the clergy, 'which
occasioned his becoming a field preacher for a time, though he was
received into the Church again.'[69] As he was going one night to
preach, he came upon an artificial circle in the ground, between
Amlwch village and St. Elian Church, where a spirit in the shape of a
large greyhound jumped against him and threw him from his horse. This
experience was repeated on a second night. The third night he went on
foot, and warily; and now he saw that the spirit was chained. He drew
near, but keeping beyond the reach of the chain, and questioned the
spirit: 'Why troublest thou those that pass by?' The spirit replied
that its unrest was due to a silver groat it had hidden under a stone
when in the flesh, and which belonged to the church of St. Elian. The
clergyman being told where the groat was, found it and paid it over to
the church, and the chained spirit was released.
FOOTNOTE:
[69] Jones, 'Apparitions.'
III.
In the Gwyllgi, or Dog of Darkness, is seen a spirit of terrible form,
well known to students of folk-lore. This is a frightful apparition of
a mastiff, with a baleful breath and blazing red eyes which shine like
fire in the night. It is huge in size, and reminds us of the 'shaggy
mastiff larger than a steed nine winters old,' which guarded the sheep
before the castle of Yspaddaden Pencawr. 'All the dead trees and
bushes in the plain he burnt with his breath down to the very
ground.'[70] The lane leading from Mousiad to Lisworney-Crossways, is
reported to have been haunted by a Gwyllgi of the most terrible
aspect. Mr. Jenkin, a worthy farmer living near there, was one night
returning home from market on a young mare, when suddenly the animal
shied, reared, tumbled the farmer off, and bolted for home. Old
Anthony the farm-servant, found her standing trembling by the
barn-door, and well knowing the lane she had come through suspected
she had seen the Gwyllgi. He and the other servants of the farm all
went down the road, and there in the haunted lane they found the
farmer, on his back in the mud. Being questioned, the farmer protested
it was the Gwyllgi and nothing less, that had made all this trouble,
and his nerves were so shaken by the shock that he had to be supported
on either side to get him home, slipping and staggering in the mud in
truly dreadful fashion all the way. It is the usual experience of
people who meet the Gwyllgi that they are so overcome with terror by
its unearthly howl, or by the glare of its fiery eyes, that they fall
senseless. Old Anthony, however, used to say that he had met the
Gwyllgi without this result. As he was coming home from courting a
young woman of his acquaintance (name delicately withheld, as he did
not marry her) late one Sunday night--or it may have been Monday
morning--he encountered in the haunted lane two large shining eyes,
which drew nearer and nearer to him. He was dimly able to discern, in
connection with the gleaming eyes, what seemed a form of human shape
above, but with the body and limbs of a large spotted dog. He threw
his hat at the terrible eyes, and the hat went whisking right through
them, falling in the road beyond. However, the spectre disappeared,
and the brave Anthony hurried home as fast as his shaking legs would
carry him.
As Mr. David Walter, of Pembrokeshire, 'a religious man, and far from
fear and superstition,' was travelling by himself through a field
called the Cot Moor, where there are two stones set up called the
Devil's Nags, which are said to be haunted, he was suddenly seized and
thrown over a hedge. He went there another day, taking with him for
protection a strong fighting mastiff dog. When he had come near the
Devil's Nags there appeared in his path the apparition of a dog more
terrible than any he had ever seen. In vain he tried to set his
mastiff on; the huge beast crouched frightened by his master's feet
and refused to attack the spectre. Whereupon his master boldly stooped
to pick up a stone, thinking that would frighten the evil dog; but
suddenly a circle of fire surrounded it, which lighting up the gloom,
showed the white snip down the dog's nose, and his grinning teeth, and
white tail. 'He then knew it was one of the infernal dogs of
hell.'[71]
Rebecca Adams was 'a woman who appeared to be a true living
experimental Christian, beyond many,' and she lived near Laugharne
Castle, in Carmarthenshire. One evening when she was going to
Laugharne town on some business, her mother dissuaded her from going,
telling her she would be benighted, and might be terrified by some
apparition at Pant y Madog. This was a pit by the side of the lane
leading to Laugharne, which was never known to be dry, and which was
haunted, as many had both seen and heard apparitions there. But the
bold Rebecca was not to be frighted at such nonsense, and went her
way. It was rather dark when she was returning, and she had passed by
the haunted pit of Pant y Madog, and was congratulating herself on
having seen no ghost. Suddenly she saw a great dog coming towards her.
When within about four or five yards of her it stopped, squatted on
its haunches, 'and set up such a scream, so loud, so horrible, and so
strong, that she thought the earth moved under her.' Then she fell
down in a swoon. When she revived it was gone; and it was past
midnight when she got home, weak and exhausted.
FOOTNOTES:
[70] 'Mabinogion,' 230.
[71] Jones, 'Apparitions.'
IV.
Much stress is usually laid, in accounts of the Gwyllgi, on the terror
with which it inspires domestic animals. This confidence in the
ability of the brute creation to detect the presence of a spirit, is a
common superstition everywhere. An American journal lately gave an
account of an apparition seen in Indiana, whose ghostly character was
considered by the witnesses to be proven by the terror of horses which
saw it. They were drawing the carriage in which drove the persons to
whom the ghost appeared, and they shied from the road at sight of it,
becoming unmanageable. The spectre soon dissolved in thin air and
vanished, when the horses instantly became tractable. In Wales it is
thought that horses have peculiarly this 'gift' of seeing spectres.
Carriage horses have been known to display every sign of the utmost
terror, when the occupants of the carriage could see no cause for
fright; and in such cases a funeral is expected to pass there before
long, bearing to his grave some person not dead at the time of the
horses' fright. These phenomena are certainly extremely interesting,
and well calculated to 'bid us pause,' though not, perhaps, for the
purpose of considering whether a horse's eye can receive an image
which the human retina fails to accept. Much weight will not be given
to the fright of the lower animals, I fear, by any thoughtful person
who has witnessed the terror of a horse at sight of a flapping shirt
on a clothes-line, or that hideous monster a railway engine. Andrew
Jackson Davis has a theory that we all bear about us an atmosphere,
pleasing or repulsive, which can be detected by horses, dogs, and
spiritual 'mediums;' this _aura_, being spiritual, surrounds us
without our will or wish, goes where we go, but does not die when we
die, and is the means by which a bloodhound tracks a slave, or a fond
dog finds its master. Without denying the possibility of this theory,
I must record that in my observation a dog has been found to smell his
master most successfully when that master was most in need of a bath
and a change of linen. Also, that when the master leaves off his coat
he clearly leaves--if a dog's conduct be evidence--a part of his
_aura_ with it. More worthy of serious attention is August Comte's
suggestion that dogs and some other animals are perhaps capable of
forming fetichistic notions. That dogs accredit inanimate objects with
volition, to a certain extent, I am quite convinced. The thing which
constitutes knowledge, in dogs as in human beings--that is to say,
thought, organised by experience--corrects this tendency in animals as
they grow older, precisely as it corrects the false conclusions of
children, though never to the same extent. That a dog can think, I
suppose no well-informed person doubts in these days.
V.
The Gwyllgi finds its counterpart in the Mauthe Doog of the Isle of
Man and the Shock of the Norfolk coast. It there comes up out of the
sea and travels about in the lanes at night. To meet it is a sign of
trouble and death. The Gwyllgi also is confined to sea-coast parishes
mainly, and although not classed among death-omens, to look on it is
deemed dangerous. The hunting dogs, Cwn Annwn, or dogs of hell, whose
habitat is the sky overhead, have also other attributes which
distinguish them clearly from the Gwyllgi. They are death-omens,
ancient of lineage and still encountered. The Gwyllgi, while
suggesting some interesting comparisons with the old mythology,
appears to have lost vogue since smuggling ceased to be profitable.
VI.
Confined to the coast, too, are those stories of phantom ships and
phantom islands which, too familiar to merit illustration here, have
their origin in the mirage. That they also touch the ancient mythology
is undoubted; but their source in the mirage is probably true of the
primeval belief as well as of the medieval, and that of our time. The
Chinese also have the mirage, but not its scientific explanation, and
hence of course their belief in its supernatural character is
undisturbed.
CHAPTER IV.
Grotesque Ghosts--The Phantom Horseman--Gigantic
Spirits--The Black Ghost of Ffynon yr Yspryd--Black Men in
the Mabinogion--Whirling Ghosts--Antic Spirits--The Tridoll
Valley Ghost--Resemblance to Modern Spiritualistic
Performances--Household Fairies.
I.
The grotesque ghosts of Welsh folk-lore are often most diverting
acquaintances. They are ghosts on horseback, or with coloured faces,
or of huge and monstrous form; or they indulge in strange gymnastics,
in whirling, throwing stones, or whistling. A phantom horseman,
encountered by the Rev. John Jones, of Holywell, in Flintshire, as
described by himself, is worthy of Heinrich Zschokke. This Mr. Jones
was a preacher of extraordinary power, renowned and respected
throughout Wales. He was one day travelling alone on horseback from
Bala, in Merionethshire, to Machynlleth, Montgomeryshire, and as he
approached a forest which lay in his way he was dogged by a
murderous-looking man carrying a sharp sickle. The minister felt sure
this man meditated an attack on his life, from his conduct in running
crouched along behind hedges, and from his having met the man at the
village inn of Llanuwchllyn, where the minister exposed his watch and
purse. Presently he saw the man conceal himself at a place where the
hedge was thick, and where a gate crossed the road; and feeling sure
that here he should be attacked, he stopped his horse to reflect on
the situation. No house was in sight, and the road was hidden by high
hedges on either side. Should he turn back? 'In despair, rather than
in a spirit of humble trust and confidence,' says the good man, 'I
bowed my head, and offered up a silent prayer. At this juncture my
horse, growing impatient of the delay, started off. I clutched the
reins, which I had let fall on his neck, when, happening to turn my
eyes, I saw, to my utter astonishment, that I was no longer alone:
there, by my side, I beheld a horseman in a dark dress, mounted on a
white steed. In intense amazement I gazed upon him. Where could he
have come from? He appeared as suddenly as if he had sprung from the
earth; he must have been riding behind and have overtaken me, and yet
I had not heard the slightest sound. It was mysterious, inexplicable;
but joy overcame my feelings of wonder, and I began at once to address
my companion. I asked him if he had seen any one, and then described
to him what had taken place, and how relieved I felt by his sudden
appearance. He made no reply, and on looking at his face he seemed
paying but slight attention to my words, but continued intently gazing
in the direction of the gate, now about a quarter of a mile ahead. I
followed his gaze, and saw the reaper emerge from his concealment and
run across a field to our left, resheathing his sickle as he hurried
along. He had evidently seen that I was no longer alone, and had
relinquished his intended attempt.' Seeking to converse with the
mysterious horseman, the minister found the phantom was speechless. In
vain he addressed it in both Welsh and English; not a word did it
utter, save that once the minister thought it said 'Amen,' to a pious
remark. Suddenly it was gone. 'The mysterious horseman was gone; he
was not to be seen; he had disappeared as mysteriously as he had
come. What could have become of him? He could not have gone through
the gate, nor have made his horse leap the high hedges, which on both
sides shut in the road. Where was he? had I been dreaming? was it an
apparition--a spectre, which had been riding by my side for the last
ten minutes? was it but a creature of my imagination? I tried hard to
convince myself that this was the case; but why had the reaper
resheathed his murderous-looking sickle and fled? And then a feeling
of profound awe began to creep over my soul. I remembered the singular
way of his first appearance, his long silence, and the single word to
which he had given utterance after I had mentioned the name of the
Lord; the single occasion on which I had done so. What could I then
believe but that ... in the mysterious horseman I had a special
interference of Providence, by which I was delivered from a position
of extreme danger?'
II.
Of gigantic ghosts there are many examples which are very grotesque
indeed. Such was the apparition which met Edward Frank, a young man
who lived in the parish of Llantarnam. As he was coming home one night
he heard something walking towards him, but at first could see
nothing. Suddenly his way was barred by a tall dismal object which
stood in the path before him. It was the ghost of a marvellous thin
man, whose head was so high above the observer's line of vision that
he nearly fell over backward in his efforts to gaze at it. His knees
knocked together and his heart sank. With great difficulty he gasped
forth, 'In the name of God what is here? Turn out of my way or I will
strike thee!' The giant ghost then disappeared, and the frightened
Edward, seeing a cow not far off, went towards her to lean on her,
which the cow stood still and permitted him to do. The naivete of this
conclusion is convincing.
Equally prodigious was the spectre seen by Thomas Miles Harry, of the
parish of Aberystruth. He was coming home by night from Abergavenny,
when his horse took fright at something which it saw, but which its
master could not see. Very much terrified, the latter hastened to guide
the animal into an adjoining yard, and dismount; whereupon he saw the
apparition of a gigantic woman. She was so prodigiously tall, according
to the account of the horrified Harry, that she was fully half as high
as the tall beech trees on the other side of the road; and he hastened
to hide from his eyes the awful sight, by running into the house, where
they listened open-mouthed to his tale. Concerning this Mr. Harry we
are assured that he was of an affable disposition, innocent and
harmless, and the grandfather of that eminent and famous preacher of
the Gospel, Thomas Lewis, of Llanharan, in Glamorganshire.[72] The same
narrator relates that Anne, the daughter of Herbert Jenkins, of the
parish of Trefethin, 'a young woman well disposed to what is good,' was
going one evening to milk the cows by Rhiw-newith, when as she passed
through a wood she saw a horrible black man standing by a holly tree.
She had with her a dog, which saw it also, and ran towards it to bark
at it, upon which it stretched out a long black tongue, and the dog ran
affrighted back to the young woman, crawling and cringing about her
feet for fear. She was in great terror at all this, but had the courage
still to go on after the cows, which had strayed into another field.
She drove them back to their own field, and in passing the holly-tree
avoided looking that way for fear of seeing the black man again.
However, after she had got safely by she looked back, and saw the
monster once more, 'very big in the middle and narrow at both ends,'
and as it walked away the ground seemed to tremble under its heavy
tread. It went towards a spring in that field called Ffynon yr Yspryd,
(the Fountain of the Spirit,) where ghosts had been seen before, and
crossing over the stile into the common way, it whistled so loud and
strong that the narrow valley echoed and re-echoed with the prodigious
sound. Then it vanished, much to the young woman's relief.
FOOTNOTE:
[72] Jones, 'Apparitions.'
III.
That giants should appear in the Welsh spirit-land will surprise no
one, but the apparition of black men is more unique. The Mabinogion,
however, are full of black men, usually giants, always terrible to
encounter. The black man whom Peredur slew had but one eye, having
lost the other in fighting with the black serpent of the Carn. 'There
is a mound, which is called the Mound of Mourning; and on the mound
there is a carn, and in the carn there is a serpent, and on the tail
of the serpent there is a stone, and the virtues of the stone are
such, that whosoever should hold it in one hand, in the other he will
have as much gold as he may desire. And in fighting with this serpent
was it that I lost my eye.'[73] In the 'Lady of the Fountain' mabinogi
the same character appears: 'a black man ... not smaller in size than
two of the men of this world,' and with 'one eye in the middle of his
forehead.'[74] And there are other black men in other Mabinogion,
indicating the extremely ancient lineage of the spectre seen by Anne
Jenkins at the Fountain of the Spirit. Whatever Anglo-Saxon scoffers
may say of Welsh pedigrees of mere flesh and blood, the antiquity of
its spectral hordes may not be disputed. The black giant of Sindbad
the Sailor and the monster woodward of Cynan alike descend from the
Polyphemus blinded by Odysseus.
FOOTNOTES:
[73] 'Mabinogion,' 106.
[74] Ibid., 6.
IV.
Another grotesque Welsh goblin goes whirling through the world. Three
examples are given by the Prophet Jones. _First:_ Lewis Thomas, the
father of the Rev. Thomas Lewis, was on his return from a journey, and
in passing through a field near Bedwellty, saw this dreadful
apparition, to wit, the spectre of a man walking or whirling along on
its hands and feet; at sight of which Lewis Thomas felt his hair to
move on his head; his heart panted and beat violently, 'his body
trembled, and he felt not his clothes about him,' _Second:_ John
Jenkins, a poor man, who lived near Abertillery, hanged himself in a
hay-loft. His sister soon after came upon his dead body there hanging,
and screamed loudly. Jeremiah James, who lived in Abertillery House,
hearing the scream, looked in that direction and saw the 'resemblance
of a man' coming from the hay-loft 'and violently turning upwards and
downwards topsy turvy' towards the river, 'which was a dreadful sight
to a serious godly man.' _Third:_ Thomas Andrew, living at a place
called The Farm, in the parish of Lanhiddel, coming home late at night
saw a whirling goblin on all fours by the side of a wall, which fell
to scraping the ground and wagging its head, 'looking aside one way
and the other,' making at the same time a horrible mowing noise; at
which Thomas Andrew 'was terribly frightened.'
V.
The antics of these and similar inhabitants of the Cambrian
spirit-world at times outdo the most absurd capers of modern
spiritualism. At the house of a certain farmer in the parish of
Llanllechid, in Carnarvonshire, there was great disturbance by a
spirit which threw stones into the house, and from one room to
another, which hit and hurt the people who lived there. The stones
were of various sizes, the largest weighing twenty-seven pounds. Most
of them were river stones, from the stream which runs hard by. Some
clergymen came from Bangor and read prayers in the house, to drive the
spirit away, but their faith was not strong enough, and stones were
thrown at them, so that they retired from the contest. The family
finally had to abandon the house.
On the farm of Edward Roberts, in the parish of Llangunllo, in
Radnorshire, there was a spirit whose antics were somewhat remarkable.
As the servant-man was threshing, the threshel was taken out of his
hand and thrown upon the hay-loft. At first he did not mind this so
much, but when the trick had been repeated three or four times he
became concerned about it, and went into the house to tell of it. The
master of the house was away, but the wife and the maid-servant
laughed at the man, and merrily said they would go to the barn to
protect him. So they went out there and sat, the one to knit and the
other to wind yarn. They were not there long before their things were
taken from their hands and tumbled about the barn. On returning to the
house, they perceived the dishes on the shelves move to and fro, and
some were thrown on to the stone floor and broken. That night there
was a terrible clattering among the dishes, and next morning they
could scarcely tread without stepping on the wrecks of crockery which
lay about. This pleasant experience was often repeated. Neighbours
came to see. People even came from far to satisfy their
curiosity--some from so far as Knighton; and one who came from
Knighton to read prayers for the exorcising of the spirit, had the
book taken out of his hand and thrown upstairs. Stones were often cast
at the people, and once iron was projected from the chimney at them.
At last the spirit set the house on fire, and nothing could quench it;
the house was burnt down: nothing but the walls and the two chimneys
stood, long after, to greet the eyes of people who passed to and from
Knighton market.
VI.
A spirit which haunted the house of William Thomas, in Tridoll Valley,
Glamorganshire, used to hit the maid-servant on the side of her head,
as it were with a cushion, when she was coming down the stairs. 'One
time she brought a marment of water into the house,' and the water was
thrown over her person. Another time there came so great an abundance
of pilchards in the sea, that the people could scarcely devour them,
and the maid asked leave of her master to go and fetch some of them.
'No,' said he, being a very just man, 'the pilchards are sent for the
use of poor people; we do not want them.' But the maid was very fond
of pilchards, and so she went without leave, and brought some to the
house. After giving a turn about the house, she went to look for her
fish, and found them thrown out upon the dunghill. 'Well,' said her
master, 'did not I tell thee not to go?' Once a pot of meat was on
the fire, and when they took it off they found both meat and broth
gone, none knew where, and the pot as empty as their own bellies.
Sometimes the clasped Bible would be thrown whisking by their heads;
and 'so it would do with the gads of the steller, and once it struck
one of them against the screen where a person then sat, and the mark
of it still to be seen in the hard board.' Once the china dishes were
thrown off the shelf, and not one broke. 'It was a great business with
this light-hating spirit to throw an old lanthorn about the house
without breaking it.' When the maid went a-milking to the barn, the
barn-door would be suddenly shut upon her as she was milking the cow;
then when she rose up the spirit began to turn the door backwards and
forwards with an idle ringing noise. Once it tried to make trouble
between the mistress and the maid by strewing charcoal ashes on the
milk. When William Evans, a neighbour, went there to pray, as he knelt
by the bedside, it struck the bed such a bang with a trencher that it
made a report like a gun, so that both the bed and the room shook
perceptibly. On another occasion, it made a sudden loud noise, which
made the master think his house was falling down, and he was
prodigiously terrified; it never after that made so loud a noise.
The Rev. R. Tibbet, a dissenting minister from Montgomeryshire, was
one night sleeping in the house, with another person in the bed with
him; and they had a tussle with the Tridoll spirit for possession of
the bed-clothes. By praying and pulling with equal energy, the parson
beat the spirit, and kept the bed-clothes. But the spirit, apparently
angered by this failure, struck the bed with the cawnen (a vessel to
hold grain) such a blow that the bed was knocked out of its place.
Then they lit a light and the spirit left them alone. It was a
favourite diversion with this goblin to hover about William Thomas
when he was shaving, and occasionally cuff him on the side of his
head--the consequence being that the persecuted farmer shaved himself
by fits and starts, in a very unsatisfactory manner, and in a most
uncomfortable state of mind. For about two years it troubled the whole
of that family, during which period it had intervals of quiet lasting
for a fortnight or three weeks. Once it endeavoured to hinder them
from going to church, by hiding the bunch of keys, on the Lord's day,
so that for all their searching they could not find them. The good man
of the house bade them not to yield to the devil, and as they were
loth to appear in their old clothes at meeting, they were about to
break the locks; but first concluded to kneel in prayer, and so did.
After their prayers they found the keys where they used to be, but
where they could not find them before. One night the spirit divided
the books among the members of the family, after they had gone to bed.
To the man of the house it gave the Bible, to the woman of the house
'Allen's Sure Guide,' and upon the bed of the maid-servant (whom it
was specially fond of plaguing) it piled a lot of English books, which
language she did not understand. The maid was heartily afraid of the
spirit, and used to fall on her knees and go to praying with
chattering teeth, at all hours of the day or night; and prayer this
spirit could not abide. When the maid would go about in the night with
a candle, the light thereof would diminish, grow feeble as if in
dampness, and finally go out. The result was the maid was generally
excused from making journeys into cellar or garret after dark, very
much to her satisfaction.
Particularly did this frisky Tridoll spirit trouble the maid-servant
after she had gone to bed--in winter hauling the bed-clothes off her;
in summer piling more on her. Now there was a young man, a first
cousin to William Thomas, who could not be got to believe there was a
spirit at his kinsman's house, and said the family were only making
tricks with one another, 'and very strong he was, a hero of an
unbeliever, like many of his brethren in infidelity.' One night
William Thomas and his wife went to a neighbour's wake, and left the
house in charge of the doubting cousin, who searched the place all
over, and then went to bed there; and no spirit came to disturb him.
This made him stronger than ever in his unbelief. But soon after he
slept there again, when they were all there, and before going to bed
he said aloud to the maid, 'If anything comes to disturb thee, Ally,
call upon me, as I lie in the next room to you.' During the night the
maid cried out that the spirit was pulling the clothes off her bed,
and the doubting cousin awoke, jumped out of bed, and ran to catch the
person he believed to be playing tricks with the maid. But there was
no creature visible, although there rained upon his doubting head a
series of cuffs, and about his person a fusillade of kicks, which
thrust the unbelief quite out of him, so that he doubted no more. The
departure of this spirit came about thus: William Thomas being in bed
with his wife, heard a voice calling him. He awaked his wife, and
rising on his elbow said to the invisible spirit, 'In the name of God
what seekest thou in my house? Hast thou anything to say to me?' The
spirit answered, 'I have,' and desired him to remove certain things
out of a place where they had been mislaid. 'Satan,' answered William
Thomas, in a candid manner, 'I'll do nothing thou biddest me; I
command thee, in the name of God, to depart from my house.' And it
obeyed.
VII.
This long and circumstantial account, which I have gathered from
different sources, but mainly from the two books of the Prophet Jones,
will impress the general reader with its resemblance, in many
respects, to modern newspaper ghost stories. The throwing about of
dishes, books, keys, etc.; its raps and touches of the person; its
making of loud noises by banging down metal objects; all these antics
are the tricks of contemporaneous spiritualism. But this spectre is of
a date when our spiritualism was quite unknown. The same is true of
the spirit which threw stones, another modern spiritualistic
accomplishment.[75] The spiritualists will argue from all this that
their belief is substantiated, not by any means that it is shaken. The
doubter will conclude that there were clever tricksters in humble
Welsh communities some time before the American city of Rochester had
produced its 'mediums.'
The student of comparative folk-lore, in reading these accounts,
will be equally impressed with their resemblance to phenomena noted
in many other lands. The conclusion is irresistible that we here
encounter but another form of the fairy which goes in Wales by the
name of the Bwbach, and in England is called the Hobgoblin, in
Denmark the Nis, in Scotland the Brownie. Also, the resemblance is
strong in all stories of this class to certain of the German Kobolds.
In several of these accounts of spirits in Wales appear the leading
particulars of the Kobold Hinzelmann, as condensed by Grimm from
Feldman's long narrative.[76] There is also a close correspondence to
certain ghost stories found in China. In the story of Woo, from the
'Che-wan-luk,'[77] appear details much like those in Hinzelmann, and
equally resembling Welsh particulars, either in the stories given
above, or those which follow. But we are now drawn so near to the
division of Familiar Spirits that we may as well enter it at once.
FOOTNOTES:
[75] For the sake of comparison, I give the latest American case which
comes under my notice. The scene is Akron, a bustling town in the
State of Ohio; the time October, 1878. 'Mr. and Mrs. Michael Metzler,
middle-aged Germans, with their little daughter, ten years of age, and
Mrs. Knoss, Metzler's mother-in-law, recently moved to a brick house
in the suburbs known as Hell's Half Acre. The house is a good,
substantial building, situated in a somewhat open space, and
surrounded by a lonesome deserted air. A few days after they had
moved, they were disturbed by sharp rappings all over the house,
produced by small stones or pebbles thrown against the window panes.
Different members of the family were hit by these stones coming to and
going from the house. Other persons were hit by them, the stones
varying in size from a pea to a hen's egg. Mrs. Metzler said that when
she went after the cow in the evening, she could hear these stones
whistling around her head. Mr. and Mrs. Metzler, who are devout
Catholics, had Father Brown come to the house to exorcise the spirits
which were tormenting them. The reverend father, in the midst of his
exercises, was struck by a stone, and so dismayed thereby that he went
home in despair.' (Newspaper account.)
[76] 'Deutsche Sagen,' i. 103.
[77] Dennys, 'Folk-Lore of China,' 86.
CHAPTER V.
Familiar Spirits--The Famous Sprite of Trwyn Farm--Was it a
Fairy?--The Familiar Spirits of Magicians--Sir David Llwyd's
Demon--Familiar Spirits in Female Form--The Legend of the
Lady of the Wood--The Devil as a Familiar Spirit--His
Disguises in this Character--Summoning and Exorcising
Familiars--Jenkin the Pembrokeshire Schoolmaster--The
Terrible Tailor of Glanbran.
I.
Innumerable are the Welsh stories of familiar spirits. Sometimes these
are spectres of the sort whose antics we have just been observing.
More often they are confessedly demons, things of evil. In numberless
cases it is no less a personage than the diawl himself who makes his
appearance in the guise of a familiar spirit. The familiar spirit
which takes up its abode in the household is, as we have seen, a
pranksome goblin. Its personal appearance--or rather its
invisibility--is the saving circumstance which prevents it from being
deemed a fairy. The familiar spirit which haunted the house of Job
John Harry, at the Trwyn Farm, in the parish of Mynyddyslwyn, was a
stone-thrower, a stroker of persons, etc., but could not be seen. It
is famous in Wales under the cognomen of Pwca'r Trwyn, and is referred
to in my account of the Ellylldan.[78] The tenants at present residing
on the Trwyn Farm are strangers who have recently invaded the home of
this ancestral spook, but I was able to glean abundant information
concerning it from people thereabout. It made a home of Mr. Harry's
house some time in the last century, for a period beginning some days
before Christmas, and ending with Easter Wednesday, on which day it
departed. During this time it spoke, and did many remarkable things,
but was always invisible. It began at first to make its presence known
by knocking at the outer door in the night; but when persons went to
open the door there was no one there. This continued for some time,
much to the perplexity of the door-openers. At last one night it spoke
to the one who opened the door, and the family were in consequence
much terrified. Some of the neighbours, hearing these tales, came to
watch with the family; and Thomas Evans foolishly brought a gun with
him, 'to shoot the spirit,' as he said. But as Job John Harry was
coming home that night from a journey, the familiar spirit met him in
the lane and said, 'There is a man come to your house to shoot me, but
thou shalt see how I will beat him.' So Job went on to the house, and
immediately stones were thrown at the unbelieving Thomas who had
brought the gun, stones from which he received severe blows. The
company tried to defend him from the stones, which did strike and hurt
him, and no other person; but their efforts were in vain. The result
was, that Thomas Evans took his gun and ran home as fast as his legs
would carry him, and never again engaged in an enterprise of that
sort.
As this familiar spirit got better acquainted with its quarters, it
became more talkative, and used often to speak from out of an oven by
the hearth's side. It also took to making music o' nights with Job's
fiddle. One night as Job was going to bed, the familiar spirit gave
him a gentle stroke on the toe. 'Thou art curious in smiting,' said
Job. 'I can smite thee where I please,' replied the spirit. As time
passed on the family became accustomed to their ghostly visitor, and
seeing it never did them any harm, but on the contrary was a source of
recreation to them, they used to boldly speak to it, and indulge in
entertaining conversation. One old man, a neighbour, more bold than
wise, hearing the spirit just by his side, but being unable to see it,
threatened to stick it with his knife. 'Thou fool,' quoth the spirit,
'how canst thou stick what thou canst not see with thine eyes?' When
questioned about its antecedents, the spirit said, 'I came from Pwll y
Gasseg' (Mare's Pit, a place in the adjacent mountain), 'and I knew ye
all before I came hither.' The wife of Morris Roberts desired one of
the family to ask the spirit who it was that killed William Reilly the
Scotchman; which being done, the spirit said, 'It was Blanch y Byd who
bade thee ask that question;' and Blanch y Byd (Worldly Blanche) was
Morris Roberts' wife ever after called. On Easter Wednesday the spirit
departed, saying, 'Dos yn iach, Job,' (fare thee well, Job,) and Job
asked the spirit, 'Where goest thou?' The reply was, 'Where God
pleases.'[79]
There are other accounts of this Trwyn sprite which credit it to a
time long anterior to last century; but all are consistent in this,
that the goblin is always invisible. The sole exception to this rule
is the legend about its having once shown a white hand to some girls
in the kitchen, thrusting it through the floor of its room overhead
for that purpose. Now invisibility is a violation of fairy traditions,
while ghosts are very often invisible--these rapping and
stone-throwing ghosts, always. It might be urged that this spirit was
a Bwbach, if a fairy at all, seeing that it kept pretty closely to the
house; but on the whole I choose to class it among the inhabitants of
the spirit-world; and really, the student of folk-lore must classify
his materials distinctly in some understandable fashion, or go daft.
FOOTNOTES:
[78] Supra, p. 21.
[79] Let me recommend the scene of this story to tourists. It is a
most romantic spot, on the top of a mountain, a glorious tramp from
Crumlyn, returning by another road to Abercarne. Wheels cannot go
there, though a sure-footed horse might bear one safely up. The
ancient farm-house is one of the quaintest in Wales, and must be
hundreds of years old; and its front porch looks out over a ravine
hardly less grand and lonely than a Californian gulch.
II.
The sort of familiar spirit employed by magicians in the eighteenth
and preceding centuries was distinctly a demon. The spirit of this
class which was controlled by Sir David Llwyd is celebrated in Wales.
This Sir David was a famous dealer in the black art, who lived in
Cardiganshire. He was a physician, and at one time a curate; but being
known to deal in the magic art, he was turned out of the curacy, and
obliged to live by practising physic. It was thought he learned the
magic art in Oxford. 'It was this man's great wickedness,' says the
Prophet Jones, 'to make use of a familiar spirit.... The bishop did
well in turning him out of the sacred office, though he was no
ill-tempered man, for how unfit was such a man to read the sacred
Scripture! With what conscience could he ask the sponsors in baptism
to undertake for the child to renounce the world, the flesh and the
devil, who himself was familiar with one of the spirits of
darkness?... Of this Sir David I have heard much, but chiefly depend
upon what was told to me by the Rev. Mr. Thomas Lewis, the curate of
Landdw and Tolachdy, an excellent preacher of the gospel; and not
sufficiently esteemed by his people, (which likely will bring a
judgment on them in time to come.) Mr. Lewis knew the young woman who
had been Sir David's maid servant, and the house where he lived.' His
familiar spirit he kept locked up in a book. Once while he was in
Radnorshire, in going from one house to another he accidentally left
this book behind him, and sent his boy back to fetch it. The boy,
being of an inquisitive turn of mind, opened the book--a thing his
master had expressly charged him not to do--and the familiar spirit
immediately demanded to be set at work. The boy, though very much
alarmed, had the wit to answer, 'Tafl gerrig o'r afon,' (throw stones
out of the river,) which the spirit immediately did, so that the air
was for a time full of flying stones, and the boy was fain to skip
about in a surprisingly active manner in order to dodge the same.
After a while, having thrown up a great quantity of stones out of the
river, (the Wye,) the spirit again, with the pertinacity of its kind,
asked for something to do; whereupon the boy bade it throw the stones
back again, which it did. Sir David having waited a long time for the
boy to return, began to suspect that things had gone wrong, and so
hastened back after him, and commanded the familiar spirit again into
his book.
III.
Familiar spirits of this class are not always invisible; and they can
assume such forms as may be necessary to serve their purposes. A
favourite shape with them is that of a young and lovely woman.
Comparisons are here suggested with the water-maidens, and other like
forms of this fancy; but they need not be pursued. It is necessary for
the student of phantoms to constantly remind himself of the
omnipresent danger of being enticed too far afield, unless he keep
somewhat sternly to the path he has marked out. How ancient is the
notion of a familiar spirit in female form, may be seen from accounts
which are given by Giraldus and other old writers. Near Caerleon,
(Monmouthshire,) in the twelfth century, Giraldus tells us[80] there
lived 'a Welshman named Melerius, who by the following means acquired
the knowledge of future events and the occult sciences: Having on a
certain night met a damsel whom he loved, in a pleasant and convenient
place, while he was indulging in her embraces, instead of a beautiful
girl he found in his arms a hairy, rough and hideous creature, the
sight of which deprived him of his senses; and after remaining many
years in this condition he was restored to health in the church of St.
David's, through the merits of its saints. But having always had an
extraordinary familiarity with unclean spirits, by seeing them,
knowing them, talking with them, and calling each by his proper name,
he was enabled through their assistance to foretell future events; he
was indeed often deceived (as they are) with respect to circumstances
at a great distance; but was less mistaken in affairs which were
likely to happen soon, or within the space of a year. They appeared to
him on foot, equipped as hunters, with horns suspended from their
necks, and truly as hunters not of animals but of souls; he
particularly met them near monasteries and religious places; for where
rebellion exists there is the greatest need of armies and strength. He
knew when any one spoke falsely in his presence, for he saw the devil
as it were leaping and exulting upon the tongue of the liar; and if he
looked into a book faultily or falsely written, although wholly
illiterate he would point out the place with his finger. Being
questioned how he could gain such knowledge, he said he was directed
by the demon's finger to the place.' In the same connection Giraldus
mentions a familiar spirit which haunted Lower Gwent, 'a demon
incubus, who from his love for a certain young woman, and frequenting
the place where she lived, often conversed with men, and frequently
discovered hidden things and future events.'
FOOTNOTE:
[80] Sir R. C. Hoare's Trans., i. 105.
IV.
The legend of the Lady of the Wood is contained in the Iolo MSS., and
is of considerable antiquity. It is a most fascinating tale: Einion,
the son of Gwalchmai, 'was one fine summer morning walking in the
woods of Treveilir,' when 'he beheld a graceful slender lady of
elegant growth, and delicate feature, and her complexion surpassing
every white and red in the morning dawn and the mountain snow, and
every beautiful colour in the blossoms of wood, field, and hill. And
then he felt in his heart an inconceivable commotion of affection, and
he approached her in a courteous manner, and she also approached him
in the same manner; and he saluted her, and she returned his
salutation; and by these mutual salutations he perceived that his
society was not disagreeable to her. He then chanced to cast his eye
upon her foot, and he saw that she had hoofs instead of feet, and he
became exceedingly dissatisfied,' as well he might. But the lady gave
him to understand that he must pay no attention to this trifling freak
of nature. 'Thou must,' she said, 'follow me wheresoever I go, as long
as I continue in my beauty.' The son of Gwalchmai thereupon asked
permission to go and say good-bye to his wife, at least. This the lady
agreed to; 'but,' said she, 'I shall be with thee, invisible to all
but thyself.' 'So he went, and the goblin went with him; and when he
saw Angharad, his wife, he saw her a hag like one grown old, but he
retained the recollection of days past, and still felt extreme
affection for her, but he was not able to loose himself from the bond
in which he was. "It is necessary for me," said he, "to part for a
time, I know not how long, from thee, Angharad, and from thee, my son,
Einion," and they wept together, and broke a gold ring between them;
he kept one half and Angharad the other, and they took their leave of
each other, and he went with the Lady of the Wood, and knew not where;
for a powerful illusion was upon him, and he saw not any place, or
person, or object under its true and proper appearance, excepting the
half of the ring alone. And after being a long time, he knew not how
long, with the goblin, the Lady of the Wood, he looked one morning as
the sun was rising upon the half of the ring, and he bethought him to
place it in the most precious place he could, and he resolved to put
it under his eyelid; and as he was endeavouring to do so, he could see
a man in white apparel, and mounted on a snow-white horse, coming
towards him, and that person asked him what he did there; and he told
him that he was cherishing an afflicting remembrance of his wife
Angharad. "Dost thou desire to see her?" said the man in white. "I
do," said Einion, "above all things, and all happiness of the world."
"If so," said the man in white, "get upon this horse, behind me;" and
that Einion did, and looking around he could not see any appearance of
the Lady of the Wood, the goblin, excepting the track of hoofs of
marvellous and monstrous size, as if journeying towards the north.
"What delusion art thou under?" said the man in white. Then Einion
answered him and told everything how it occurred 'twixt him and the
goblin. "Take this white staff in thy hand," said the man in white,
and Einion took it. And the man in white told him to desire whatever
he wished for. The first thing he desired was to see the Lady of the
Wood, for he was not yet completely delivered from the illusion. And
then she appeared to him in size a hideous and monstrous witch, a
thousand times more repulsive of aspect than the most frightful things
seen upon earth. And Einion uttered a cry of terror; and the man in
white cast his cloak over Einion, and in less than a twinkling Einion
alighted as he wished on the hill of Treveilir, by his own house,
where he knew scarcely any one, nor did any one know him.' The goblin
meantime had gone to Einion's wife, in the disguise of a richly
apparelled knight, and made love to her, pretending that her husband
was dead. 'And the illusion fell upon her; and seeing that she should
become a noble lady, higher than any in Wales, she named a day for her
marriage with him. And there was a great preparation of every elegant
and sumptuous apparel, and of meats and drinks, and of every
honourable guest, and every excellence of song and string, and every
preparation of banquet and festive entertainment.' Now there was a
beautiful harp in Angharad's room, which the goblin knight desired
should be played on; 'and the harpers present, the best in Wales,
tried to put it in tune, and were not able.' But Einion presented
himself at the house, and offered to play on it. Angharad, being under
an illusion, 'saw him as an old, decrepit, withered, grey-haired man,
stooping with age, and dressed in rags.' Einion tuned the harp, 'and
played on it the air which Angharad loved. And she marvelled
exceedingly, and asked him who he was. And he answered in song: ...
"Einion the golden-hearted." ...
"Where hast thou been!"
"In Kent, in Gwent, in the wood, in Monmouth,
In Maenol, Gorwenydd;
And in the valley of Gwyn, the son of Nudd;
See, the bright gold is the token."
And he gave her the ring.
"Look not on the whitened hue of my hair,
Where once my aspect was spirited and bold;
Now gray, without disguise, where once it was yellow.
Never was Angharad out of my remembrance,
But Einion was by thee forgotten."'
But Angharad 'could not bring him to her recollection. Then said he to
the guests:
"If I have lost her whom I loved, the fair one of polished mind,
The daughter of Ednyved Vychan,
I have not lost (so get you out!)
Either my bed, or my house, or my fire."
'And upon that he placed the white staff in Angharad's hand, and
instantly the goblin which she had hitherto seen as a handsome and
honourable nobleman, appeared to her as a monster, inconceivably
hideous; and she fainted from fear, and Einion supported her until she
revived. And when she opened her eyes, she saw there neither the
goblin, nor any of the guests, nor of the minstrels, nor anything
whatever except Einion, and her son, and the harp, and the house in
its domestic arrangement, and the dinner on the table, casting its
savoury odour around. And they sat down to eat ... and exceeding great
was their enjoyment. And they saw the illusion which the demoniacal
goblin had cast over them.... And thus it ends.'[81]
FOOTNOTE:
[81] Iolo MSS. 587, et seq.
V.
There is hardly a goblin in the world more widely known than this
spectre of the forest. Her story appears in the legends of very many
lands, including China. Its ancient Grecian prototype is found in the
Odyssey.[82]
When it is the Diawl himself who appears in the role of the familiar
spirit, his majesty is usually in some other form than that of a man,
with hoofs, horns, and tail. The orthodox form of Satan has indeed
been seen in many parts of Wales, but not when doing duty as a
familiar spirit. A Welsh poet of the thirteenth century mentions this
form:
And the horned devil,
With sharp hoofs
On his heels.[83]
He is variously called cythraul, dera, diafol, all euphemisms for
devil, equivalent to our destroyer, evil one, adversary--as well as
plain diawl, devil. In his character of a familiar spirit he assumes
the shape of a fiery ball, a donkey, a black calf, a round bowl, a
dog, a roaring flame, a bull, a goose, and numberless others,
including the imp that goes into a book. In all this he bears out the
character given him in old mythology, where he grows big or little at
pleasure, and roars in a gale as Hermes, the wind-god, howls as a dog,
enters a walnut as in the Norse Tale, or is confined in a bottle as
the genie of the 'Arabian Nights.'
To that eminent nonconformist preacher, Vavasor Powell, the devil
once appeared in shape like a house. 'Satan ... appeared several
times, and in several wayes, to me: as once like a house, stood
directly in my way, with which sight I fell on my face as dead....
Another time, being alone in my chamber ... I perceived a strong cold
wind to blow ... it made the hair of my flesh to stand up, and caused
all my bones to shake; and on the suddain, I heard one walk about me,
tramping upon the chamber floor, as if it had been some heavie big man
... but it proved in the end to be no other than ... Satan.'[84]
A black calf, which haunted a Pembrokeshire brook early in the present
century, was believed to be the devil in familiar guise. It appeared
at a certain spot near the village of Narberth--a village which has
figured actively in mythic story since the earliest ages of which
there is any record. One night two peasants caught the terrible calf
and took it home, locking it up safely in a stable with some other
cattle, but it had vanished when morning came.
Henry Llewelyn, of Ystrad Defoc parish, Glamorganshire, was beset by
the devil in the shape of a round bowl. He had been sent by his
minister (Methodist) to fetch from another parish a load of religious
books--Bibles, Testaments, Watts' 'Psalms, Hymns and Songs for
Children'--and was coming home with the same, on horseback, by night,
when he saw a living thing, round like a bowl, moving to and fro
across the lane. The bold Llewelyn having concluded it was the devil,
resolved to speak to it. 'What seekest thou, thou foul thing?' he
demanded, adding, 'In the name of the Lord Jesus go away!' And to
prove that it was the adversary, at these words it vanished into the
ground, leaving a sulphurous smell behind.
To William Jones, a sabbath-breaker, of Risca village, the devil
appeared as an enormous mastiff dog, which transformed itself into a
great fire and made a roaring noise like burning gorse. And to two men
at Merthyr Tydfil, in Glamorganshire, the fiend appeared in the shape
of a gosling. These men were one night drinking together at the Black
Lion Inn, when one dared the other to go to conjure. The challenge was
accepted, and they went, but conducted their emprise with such drunken
recklessness, that the devil put out the eyes of one of them, so that
he was blind the rest of his days.
FOOTNOTES:
[82] In his fascinating essay on the 'Folk-Lore of France,' in the
'Folk-Lore Record' for 1878 (published by the Folk-Lore Society) Mr.
A. Lang says: 'So widespread is this superstition, that a friend of
mine declares he has met with it among the savages of New Caledonia,
and has known a native who actually died, as he himself said he would,
after meeting one of the fairy women of the wild wood.'
[83] Gruffydd ab yr Ynad Coch.
[84] 'The Life and Death of Mr. Vavasor Powell,' p. 8. (A curious
seventeenth century book, no two existing copies of which appear to be
alike. I here cite from that in the library of the Marquis of Bute,
than which a more perfect copy is rarely met with.)
VI.
The mode of summoning and of exorcising familiar spirits--in other
words, of laying and raising the devil--varies little the world over.
Even in China, the magic circle is entered and incantations are
muttered when the fiend is summoned; and for the exorcism of devils
there are laws like our own--though since modern Christianity has been
introduced in China the most popular exorcist is the Christian
missionary.[85] In Wales, the popular belief is compounded of about
equal parts of foul magic and fair Biblical text; magic chiefly for
summoning, the Book for exorcising.
John Jenkin, a schoolmaster in Pembrokeshire, was a conjuror of renown
in that part of Wales. One of his scholars who had a curiosity to see
the devil made bold to ask the master to assist him to that
entertainment. 'May see him,' said the master, 'if thou hast the
courage for it. Still,' he added, 'I do not choose to call him till I
have employment for him.' So the boy waited; and not long after a man
came to the master saying he had lost some money, and wished to be
told who had stolen it. 'Now,' the master said to the scholar, 'I have
some business for him.' At night they went into the wood together and
drew a circle, which they entered, and the schoolmaster called one of
the spirits of evil by its name. Presently they saw a light in the
sky, which shot like lightning down to the circle, and turned round
about it. The conjuror asked it who had stolen the man's money; the
spirit did not know, and it disappeared. Then the schoolmaster called
another evil spirit by its name; and presently they saw the
resemblance of a bull flying through the air towards them, so swiftly
and fiercely as if it would go through them; and it also turned about
the circle. But the conjuror asked it in vain who had the stolen
money. 'I must call still another,' said he. The schoolboy was now
almost dead with fear, and the conjuror considerately waited till he
was somewhat revived before calling the third spirit. But when he did
call, there came out of the wood a spirit dressed in white, and went
about the circle. 'Ah,' said the schoolmaster, 'we shall now hear
something from this.' And sure enough 'this' told the conjuror (in a
language the boy could not understand) where the money was, and all
about it. Then it vanished in red fire; and that boy 'has never been
well since, the effect of the great fright still cleaving to him.'
Not far from Glanbran, in Carmarthenshire, lived a tailor, who added
to his trade as a breeches-mender the loftier, if wickeder,
employments of a worker in magic. A certain Mr. Gwynne, living at
Glanbran, took it upon himself to ridicule this terrible tailor, for
the tailor was a little man, and Mr. Gwynne was a burly six-footer,
who feared nobody. 'Thou have the courage to look upon the devil!'
sneered Gwynne; 'canst thou show him to me?' 'That I can,' said the
tailor, his eyes flashing angrily; 'but you are not able to look at
him.' 'What!' roared Gwynne, 'thou able to look at him, and not I?'
'Very well,' quoth the tailor; 'if you are able to look at him I will
show him to you.' It was in the day time, but the tailor went
immediately into a little grove of wood in a field hard by, and made a
circle in the usual manner. In a short time he returned to fetch the
incredulous Mr. Gwynne, saying, 'Come with me and you shall see him.'
The two then crossed the field until they came to the stile by the
wood, when suddenly the tailor cried, 'Look yonder! there it is!' And
looking, Mr. Gwynne saw, in the circle the tailor had drawn, 'one of
the fallen angels, now become a devil.' It was so horrible a sight
that the terrified Mr. Gwynne was never after able to describe it; but
from that time forth he had a proper respect for the tailor.
FOOTNOTE:
[85] Dennys, 'Folk-Lore of China,' 89.
CHAPTER VI.
The Evil Spirit in his customary Form--The stupid Medieval
Devil in Wales--Sion Cent--The Devil outwitted--Pacts with
the Fiend and their Avoidance--Sion Dafydd's Foul Pipe--The
Devil's Bridge and its Legends--Similar Legends in other
Lands--The Devil's Pulpit near Tintern--Angelic
Spirits--Welsh Superstitions as to pronouncing the Name of
the Evil Spirit--The Bardic Tradition of the Creation--The
Struggle between Light and Darkness and its Symbolization.
I.
The devil has often appeared in Wales in his customary form, or with
his distinctive marks covered up by such clothing as mortals wear.
There was even a tailor in Cardiganshire who had the honour of making
a suit of clothes for his sulphuric majesty. The medieval view of this
malignant spirit--which makes the devil out as dull and stupid as he
is mendacious and spiteful--still lingers in some parts. Those formal
pacts with the devil, the first traces of which are found in the
twelfth and thirteenth centuries, have been made in great numbers in
Wales; and tales in which the devil is outwitted by a mortal are still
preserved with much distinctness in various localities. That the myth
of Polyphemus reappears in all accounts of this sort, is pretty well
agreed among students of folk-lore. Hercules and Cacus, Polyphemus and
Odysseus, Peredur and the one-eyed monster of the Mabinogion,
Gambrinus and der Teufel, Jack the Giant-Killer, Norse Joetuns and
Arabian genii tricked and bottled; all these are deemed outgrowths of
the same primeval idea, to wit, the victory of the sun-god over the
night-fiend; and the story of Sion Cent's compact with the diawl is
doubtless from the same root. Certain it is that were not the devil at
times gullible, he never would have been so useful as a familiar
spirit, never could have been made so completely a slave to his mortal
masters. The Pope (Benedict IX.) who had seven evil spirits in a
sugar-bottle, merely subdivided the arch-fiend in the same way the
genii of the old tales are subdivided--now existing as a dense and
visible form, again expanding to blot out the sky, and again entering
the narrow compass of a bottle or a nut-shell; co-existing in a
million places at the same instant, yet having a single individuality.
II.
Tradition relates that Sion Cent was a famous necromancer in
Monmouthshire, who outwitted the devil, not once but many times. He
lives in popular legend simply as a worker in magic, but in reality he
was a worthy minister, the Rev. John Kent, who flourished from 1420 to
1470, and wrote several theological works in Latin. In his native
Welsh he confined himself to poetry, and Sion Cent was his Cymric
pseudonym. Like many learned men in those days, he was accredited with
magical powers by the ignorant peasantry, and of his transactions with
the devil many stories were then invented which still survive. One
relates that he once served as a farmer's boy, and was set to keep the
crows from the corn, but preferring to go to Grosmont fair, he
confined the crows in an old roofless barn by a magic spell till the
next day, when he returned. His compact with the devil enabled him to
build the bridge over the Monnow, near Grosmont, which still bears his
name. The compact gave the devil the man's soul, as all such compacts
do--the stipulation being that if his body were buried either in or
out of the church, his soul should be forfeit to the diawl. But the
shrewd Welshman gave orders that he should be buried exactly under the
chancel wall, so that he should lie neither in the church nor out of
it; and the devil was made a fool of by this device. A precisely
similar tradition exists concerning an old gentleman in
Carmarthenshire.
III.