of Shon ap Shenkin, which was related to Mr. Sikes by a farmer's wife
near the reputed scene of the tale, that is the locality of Pant Shon
Shenkin, the famous centre of Carmarthenshire Fairies:--
"Shon ap Shenkin was a young man who lived hard by Pant Shon
Shenkin. As he was going afield early one fine summer's morning he
heard a little bird singing, in a most enchanting strain, on a tree
close by his path. Allured by the melody, he sat down under the tree
until the music ceased, when he arose and looked about him. What was
his surprise at observing that the tree, which was green and full of
life when he sat down, was now withered and barkless! Filled with
astonishment he returned to the farmhouse which he had left, as he
supposed, a few minutes before; but it also was changed, grown older,
and covered with ivy. In the doorway stood an old man whom he had never
before seen; he at once asked the old man what he wanted there. 'What
do I want here?' ejaculated the old man, reddening angrily; 'that's
a pretty question! Who are you that dare to insult me in my own
house?' 'In your own house? How is this? where's my father and mother,
whom I left here a few minutes since, whilst I have been listening to
the charming music under yon tree, which, when I rose, was withered
and leafless' 'Under the tree!--music!' 'What's your name?' 'Shon
ap Shenkin.' 'Alas, poor Shon, and this is indeed you!' cried the
old man. 'I often heard my grandfather, your father, speak of you,
and long did he bewail your absence. Fruitless inquiries were made
for you; but old Catti Maddock of Brechfa said you were under the
power of the Fairies, and would not be released until the last sap
of that sycamore tree would be dried. Embrace me, my dear uncle,
for you are my uncle ... embrace your nephew.' With this the old man
extended his arms, but before the two men could embrace, poor Shon
ap Shenkin crumbled into dust on the door-step."
It is very interesting to compare this story of Shon ap Shenkin, under
the power of the Fairies, listening to the birds of enchantment,
with the warriors at Harlech listening to the Birds of Rhiannon,
in the Mabinogi of Branwen, daughter of Llyr.
Bran Fendigaid, a Welsh King in ancient times, had a palace at Harlech,
and had a sister named Bronwen, or White Breast, whom Matholwch the
King of Ireland married on account of her wonderful beauty. After
a while, however, the foster brothers of Matholwch began to treat
Bronwen very cruelly till at last she found means to send a message to
her brother Bran, in Wales; and this she did by writing a letter of
her woes, which she bound to a bird's wing which she had reared. The
bird reached Bronwen's brother, Bran, who, when he read the letter
sailed for Ireland immediately, and during a fearful warfare in that
country he was poisoned with a dart in his foot. His men had been
bidden by their dying chief to cut off his head and bear it to London
and bury it with the face towards France. They did as they were bidden
by Bran previous to his death, and various were the adventures they
encountered while obeying this injunction. At Harlech they stopped
to rest, and sat down to eat and drink.
While there, they heard three birds singing a sweet song, "at a great
distance over the sea," though it seemed to them as though they were
quite near. These were the birds of Rhiannon. Their notes were so
sweet that warriors were known to have remained spell-bound for 80
years listening to them. The birds sang so sweetly that the men rested
for seven years, which appeared but a day. Then they pursued their way
to Gwales in Pembrokeshire, and there remained for four score years,
during which the head of Bran was uncorrupted. At last they went to
London and buried it there.
The old Welsh poets often allude to the birds of Rhiannon, and they are
also mentioned in the Triads; and the same enchanting fancy reappears
in the local story of Shon ap Shenkin, which I just gave.
Mr. Ernest Rhys in the present day sings:--
"O, the birds of Rhiannon they sing time away,--
Seven years in their singing are gone like a day."
In the region of myth and romance Rhiannon, the songs of whose birds
were so enchanting, was the daughter of Heveydd Hen, who by her
magic arts foiled her powerful suitor, Gwawl ap Clud, and secured as
her consort the man of her choice, Pwyll, Prince of Dyfed. In Welsh
Mythology several members of the kingly families are represented as
playing the role of magicians.
It may be added that it is interesting to compare both the story of
Shion ap Shenkin, and that of the birds of Rhiannon, with Longfellow's
"Golden Legend," originally written in the thirteenth century by
Jacobus de Voragine, in which Monk Felix is represented as listening
to the singing of a snow-white bird for a hundred years, which period
passed as a single hour.
"One morning all alone,
Out of his covenant of gray stone,
Into the forest older, darker, grayer
His lips moving as if in prayer,
His head sunken upon his breast
As in a dream of rest,
Walked the Monk Felix. All about
The broad, sweet sunshine lay without,
Filling the summer air;
And within the woodlands as he trod,
The twilight was like the Truce of God
With worldly woe and care.
Under him lay the golden moss;
And above him the boughs of hemlock-trees
Waved, and made the sign of the cross,
And whispered their benedicites,
And from the ground
Rose an odour sweet and fragrant
Of the wild-flowers and the vagrant
Vines that wandered,
Seeking the sunshine, round and round.
"Those he heeded not, but pondered
On the volume in his hand,
A volume of Saint Augustine,
Wherein he read of the unseen
Splendours of God's great town
In the unknown land,
And, with his eyes cast down
In humility he said:
'I believe, O God,
What herein I have read,
But alas! I do not understand'?
"And lo! he heard
The sudden singing of a bird,
A snow-white bird, that from a cloud
Dropped down,
And among the branches brown
Sat singing
So sweet, and clear, and loud,
It seemed a thousand harp-strings ringing;
And the Monk Felix closed his book,
And long, long,
With rapturous look,
He listened to the song.
And hardly breathed or stirred,
Until he saw, as in a vision,
The land Elysian,
And in the heavenly city heard
Angelic feet
Fall on the golden flagging of the street,
And he would fain
Have caught the wondrous bird,
But strove in vain;
For it flew away, away,
Far over hill and dell,
And instead of its sweet singing,
He heard the convent bell
Suddenly in the silence ringing,
For the service of noonday.
And he retraced
His pathway homeward sadly and in haste.
"In the convent there was a change!
He looked for each well-known face,
But the faces were new and strange;
New figures sat in the oaken stalls.
New voices chanted in the choir;
Yet the place was the same place,
The same dusky walls
Of cold, gray stone,
The same cloisters and belfry and spire.
"A stranger and alone
Among that brotherhood
The monk Felix stood.
'Forty years,' said a Friar,
'Have I been Prior
Of this convent in the wood,
But for that space
Never have I beheld thy face!'
The heart of Monk Felix fell:
And he answered with submissive tone,
'This morning, after the horn of Prime,
I left my cell
And wandered forth alone.
Listening all the time
To the melodious singing
Of a beautiful white bird,
Until I heard
The bells of the convent ring
Noon from their noisy towers.
It was as if I dreamed;
For what to me had seemed
Moments only, had been hours!'
"'Years!' said a voice close by,
It was an aged monk who spoke,
From a bench of oak
Fastened against the wall;--
He was the oldest monk of all.
For a whole century
He had been there,
Serving God in prayer,
The meekest and humblest of his creatures,
He remembered well the features
Of Felix, and he said,
'One hundred years ago,
When I was a novice in this place
There was here a monk, full of God's grace,
Who bore the name
Of Felix, and this man must be the same.'
"And straightway
They brought forth to the light of day
A volume old and brown,
A huge tome bound
In brass and wild-boar's hide.
Wherein were written down
The names of all who had died
In the convent, since it was edified.
And there they found,
Just as the old Monk said,
That on a certain day and date,
One hundred years before,
Had gone forth from the convent gate
The monk Felix, and never more
Had he entered that sacred door
He had been counted among the dead!
And they knew, at last,
That such had been the power
Of that celestial and immortal song,
A hundred years had passed,
And had not seemed so long
As a single hour!"
In the stories I have already given those who fell into the hands
of the Fairies were rescued or returned from them after a certain
period of time; but I have heard some stories in which the victim
never returned. A woman at Pontshan, Llandyssul, in Cardiganshire,
related to me a story of a servant girl in that neighbourhood who was
captured by the Fairies and never returned home again. A few months
ago another tale of this kind was related to me at Llanrhystyd:
A LLANRHYSTYD MAID LOST AMONG THE FAIRIES.
Mr David Morgan, Carpenter, Llanrhystyd, informed me that some years
ago the maid servant of Pencareg Farm in the neighbourhood, went out
one evening to bring home the cattle which were grazing some distance
away from the house. A boy employed to look after the cattle in the
day-time known as "bugail bach," saw the Fairies dragging the maid into
their circle or ring, where she joined them in their dances. Search
was made for her everywhere, but she was never seen again.
SHUI RHYS AND THE FAIRIES.
"Shui was a beautiful girl of seventeen, tall and fair, with a skin
like ivory, hair black and curling, and eyes of dark velvet. She was
but a poor farmer's daughter, notwithstanding her beauty, and among
her duties was that of driving up the cows for the milking. Over this
work she used to loiter sadly, to pick flowers by the way, or chase
the butterflies, or amuse herself in any agreeable manner that fortune
offered. For her loitering she was often chided, indeed, people said
Shui's mother was far too sharp with the girl, and that it was for no
good the mother had so bitter a tongue. After all the girl meant no
harm, they said. But when one night Shui never came home till bed-time,
leaving the cows to care for themselves, dame Rhys took the girl to
task as she never had done before. 'Ysgwaetheroedd, Mami,' said Shui,
'I could not help it; it was the Tylwyth Teg,' (the Fairies). The
dame was aghast at this, but she could not answer it--for well she
knew the Tylwyth Teg were often seen in the woods of Cardigan. Shui
was at first shy about talking of the Fairies, but finally confessed
they were little men in green coats, who danced around her and made
music on their little harps; and they talked to her in language too
beautiful to be repeated; indeed she couldn't understand the words,
though she knew well enough what the Fairies meant. Many a time after
that Shui was late; but now nobody chided her, for fear of offending
the Fairies. At last one night Shui did not come home at all. In
alarm the woods were searched; there was no sign of her; and never was
she seen in Cardigan again. Her mother watched in the fields on the
Tair-nos ysprydion or three nights of the year when goblins are sure
to be abroad; but Shui never returned. Once indeed there came to the
neighbourhood a wild rumour that Shui Rhys had been seen in a great
city in a foreign land--Paris, perhaps, or London, who knows? but
this tale was in no way injurious to the sad belief that the Fairies
had carried her off; they might take her to those well-known centres
of idle and sinful pleasure, as well as to any other place." [3]
FAIRIES COMING INTO THE BEDROOM OF A HOUSE NEAR ABERYSTWYTH.
One Robert Burton, in his "History of the Principality of Wales,"
published 215 years ago, says:--"John Lewes, Esq., a Justice of
Peace at Glankerrig, near Aberystwyth, in this county, in the year
1656, by several letters to Mr. B. A., late worthy divine deceased,
gives an account of several strange apparitions in Carmarthenshire,
Pembrokeshire, and this county (Cardiganshire), about that time,
confirmed by divers persons of good quality and reputation the
substance of whereof are as followeth. A man and his family being all
in bed, he being awake about midnight, perceived by a light entering
the little room where he lay, and about a dozen in the shapes of men,
and two or three women with small children in their arms following,
they seemed to dance, and the chamber appeared much wider and lighter
than formerly. They seemed to eat bread and cheese all about a kind
of a tick upon the ground, they offered him some, and would smile
upon him, he heard no voice, but calling once upon God to bless him,
he heard a whispering voice in Welsh bidding him hold his peace. They
continued there about four hours, all which time he endeavoured to
wake his wife but could not. Afterwards they went into another room,
and having danced awhile departed. He then arose, and though the room
was very small, yet he could neither find the door, nor the way to
bed again until crying out his wife and family awoke.
"He living within two miles of Justice Lewes, he sent for him, being
a poor honest husbandman and of good report, and made him believe he
would put him to his oath about the truth of this Relation, who was
very ready to take it."
A SERVANT OF PERTHRHYS, LLANDDEINIOL, AND THE WHITE FAIRIES.
A very old man named John Jones, who lives at Llanddeiniol, about six
miles from Aberystwyth, informed me that many years ago, when he was a
young man, or a lad of 18, he was engaged as a servant at a farm called
Perthrhys, in that neighbourhood. One evening after supper he went to
the tailor who was making him a suit of clothes; but as the clothes
were not quite ready he had to wait till a late hour before returning
home, but it was a delightful moonlight night. As he proceeded along
a lonely path across a certain moor known as Rhosrhydd, and happened
to look back he was suddenly surprised by seeing two young men or
boys as he thought, coming after him. At first he thought they were
some boys trying to frighten him; but after they had followed him
for a short distance till they came within about 30 or 40 yards of
him, they turned out from the path, and began to jump and to dance,
going round and round as if they followed a ring or a circle just as
we hear of the fairies. They were perfectly white, and very nimble,
and the old man informed me that there was something supernatural both
in their appearance and movements; and that he is convinced to this
day that they could not have been human beings. When he arrived home
at the farm, and related his adventure, every one in the house was
of the opinion that the strange beings he had seen were the Fairies.
NANCY TYNLLAIN AND HER SON SEEING FAIRIES ON HORSES.
A man named Timothy in the parish of Llanarth, Cardiganshire, told
me that an old woman known as Nancy Tynllain and her son, Shenkin
Phillips, had seen the Tylwyth Teg (fairies) on one occasion. Nancy
died over sixty years ago. She and her son one day left home rather
early in the morning, as they were going to Cynon's Fair, and had some
distance to go. As they proceeded on their horses in the direction
of Wilgarn, they saw the Fairies, mounted on small horses, galloping
round and round as in a circle round about a certain hillock, and
Nancy took particular notice that one of the Fairy women had a red
cloak on. As the old woman and her son were looking on, watching
the movements of the Fairies, Nancy remarked, "That Fairy woman over
there rides very much like myself." This was at early dawn.
ELIAS, FORCH Y CWM AND THE FAIRIES.
Elias, Forch y Cwm, who was a servant man in the same neighbourhood,
was one day ploughing on the field, but when he happened to look about
he perceived the Fairies on Bank-Cwmpridd, and coming towards him. The
man ran home in terror from the field, and this was in broad daylight.
The late Mr. T. Compton Davies, Aberayron, an eminent Folk-Lorist,
related to me the following two stories, and informed me that he
had already written them in Welsh for "Cymru," in which excellent
periodical they appeared, September, 1892, page 117.
THE CARDIGANSHIRE PAINTER AND MUSICIAN, WHO PLAYED HIS FLUTE TO THE
FAIRY LADIES AND NEARLY SECURED ONE OF THEM AS A WIFE.
About the year 1860, a builder from Aberayron, in Cardiganshire, was
erecting a Vicarage at Nantcwnlle, about nine miles from Aberayron,
not far from Llangeitho. There was a certain man there employed as
a painter, whose name was John Davies, a harmless and superstitious
character, who once had been an exciseman, afterwards a carpenter, and
at last became a painter, though he did not shine in either of the two
trades. He was however, a brilliant musician, and belonged to a musical
family. He was acquainted with the works of Handel, Mozart, Haydn, and
Beethoven, whilst one of his favourites was the song of the Witches
in "Macbeth," He also always carried his flute in his pocket. Whilst
this Nantcwnlle Vicarage was in course of construction, John was
sent one day on a message to Aberayron. He went there in due time,
and in the afternoon left the town and started on his return journey,
having the choice of two roads--either returning through the Vale of
Aeron, or across the hill--country of Cilcennin, The latter was a very
lonely route, but he chose it as it was about two miles shorter. So
John hurried on his journey so as to reach his destination before
night. When he came to the little village of Cilcennin, he had a good
mind to enter the public house known as the "Commercial," to see his
old friend Llywelyn, when he remembered that it was getting late and
that he had to pass by the ghosts of the moors and the Fairy circles
on the top of the mountain. After walking on again about a mile, he
arrived at another public house, known as "Rhiwlas Arms." He was now
within three miles to the end of his journey, and it occurred to him
that it would be a splendid thing to have one pint of beer to give
him strength and courage to meet the ghosts. So in he went into the
Public House, where he met with many old friends, and drank more than
one pint. After taking out his flute from his pocket, John obliged
the merry company with many of the old Welsh airs, such as "Ar Hyd y
Nos," "Glan Meddwdod Mwyn," "Llwyn on," etc. It was 8 o'clock p.m.,
and in the middle of October. John started from the house, boasting
to those who were present that he was not afraid, but poor fellow, as
soon as he went out into the darkness and the stillness of the night,
his heart began to beat very fast. Nevertheless, he walked forward
from the cross-road towards Hendraws, and turned to a road which led
direct to Nantcwnlle. For a considerable distance, there was no hedge
except on one side of the road, and nothing but a vast open moor on
the other side. John knew that he was to pass a small cottage called
Ty-clottas, and expected every moment to see the light of the old woman
who lived there, who was known as Peggi Ty-clottas. Unfortunately,
John had somehow or other wandered away from the road into the bog;
but seeing light before him, he went on confidently. He followed the
light for some distance, but did not come to any house, and he noticed
that the light was travelling and giving a little jump now and again.
At the early dawn next morning, old Peggi Ty-clottas, when she was half
awake, heard some strange music, more strange than she had ever heard
before. At first she thought it was the "toili" (phantom funeral),
which had come to warn her of her approaching death; for to believe
in the "toili" was part of Peggi's confession of faith. But when she
listened attentively, Peggi found out that the music was not a dead
march, but rather something light and merry. So it could not have
been the "toili." Afterwards she thought it was the warbling of some
bird. Peggi had heard the lark many a time at the break of day singing
songs of praises to the Creator. She had also heard the lapwing and
other birds, breaking on the loneliness of her solitary home; but
never had she heard a bird like this one singing, singing continually
without a pause. At last she got up from her bed and went out into
the moor in order to see what was there. To her great surprise, she
saw a man sitting on a heap, and blowing into some instrument, who
took no notice of Peggi. Peggi went quite close to the man and asked
him in a loud voice, "What do you want here?" Then the man stirred up
and ceased to blow, and with an angry look, said,--"Ah you,--you have
spoiled everything; it nearly came to a bargain." It proved that the
man whom Peggi came upon was John Davies, the painter, who had been
playing his flute to the Fairies, and had almost made a bargain with
them to marry a Fairy lady, when old Peggi came to spoil everything.
When Mr. T. Compton Davies, heard about John among the Fairies he
went to him and begged him to tell him all about it; and he did
so. According to John's own account of his night adventure it was
something as follows:--When he got lost in the bog, he followed the
light, till presently, he came to a Fairy ring, where a large number
of little Fairy ladies danced in it, and to his great surprise, one
of them took his arm, so that John also began to dance. And after a
while, the Queen of the Fairies herself came on to him, and asked him,
"Where do you come from?" John replied, "From the world of mortals,"
and added that he was a painter. Then she said to him, that they had
no need of a painter in the world of Fairies, as there was nothing
getting old there. John found the Fairies all ladies, or at least
he did not mention any men. They were very beautiful, but small,
and wearing short white dresses coming down to the knees only. When
he took out from his pocket his flute and entertained them by playing
some Irish, Scotch, and English airs, the Queen informed him that they
(the Fairies) were of Welsh descent. Then John played some Welsh airs
from Owen Alaw to the great delight of the Fairy ladies, and they had
a merry time of it. John soon became a great favourite, and asked for
something to drink, but found they were "teetotals." Then he fell
in love with one of the Fairy ladies, and asked the Queen for the
hand of the maiden, and informed her that he had a horse named Bob,
as well as a cart of his own making. The Queen in reply said that they
were not accustomed to mix with mortals, but as he had proved himself
such a musician, she gave her consent under the conditions that he
and the little lady should come once a month on the full moon night
to the top of Mount Trichrug to visit the Fairies. Then the Queen took
hold of a pot full of gold which she intended giving John as a dowry,
but, unfortunately, at the very last moment, when he was just going
to take hold of it, old Peggi TyClottas came to shout and to spoil
the whole thing; for as soon as the Fairy ladies saw old Peggi,
they all vanished through some steps into the underground regions
and John never saw them again. But he continued to believe as long
as he lived that he had been with the Fairies.
TWO MEN WHO SAW THE FAIRIES IN CARMARTHENSHIRE DANCING IN BROAD
DAYLIGHT.
Mr. Compton Davies, also informed me that there were two men in his
neighbourhood who had seen the Fairies about 45 years ago, and he
directed me to go and see them so as to hear everything from their
own lips. One of them, David Evans, Red Lion, lives at Aberayron,
and the other Evan Lewis is a farmer near Mydroilyn, in the parish of
Llanarth. I went to see both of them, and they gave me a full account
of what they had seen which was something as follows:--
In August, 1862, David Evans and Evan Lewis, went from the Coast
of Cardiganshire with their waggons all the way to Brecon for some
timber for ship-building, which was going on at New Quay. On their
return journey, through Carmarthenshire, they stopped for a short
time at a place called Cwmdwr on the road leading from Llanwrda to
Lampeter. It was about 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and the two men
and their horses and waggons were standing opposite a farm known as
Maestwynog, where the reapers were busy at work in a wheat-field close
by. As they were looking in the direction of a hillside not far off,
David Evans saw about fifty small wheat stacks (sopynau bychain), as
he at first thought. On second sight, however, he noticed that they
were moving about, he took them for reapers. They were all dressed
exactly alike, and walked fast one after another up the hillside
footpath. David Evans now called the attention of his companion Evan
Lewis, whom he asked who the men could have been; but before he had
time to make any further remarks, the first of those who were climbing
up along the winding footpath had reached a small level spot on the top
of the hill. The others quickly followed him, and each one in coming
to the top, gave a jump to dance, and they formed a circle. After
dancing for a short time, one of the dancers turned in into the middle
of the circle, followed by the others, one by one till they appeared
like a gimblet screw. Then they disappeared into the ground. After
awhile one of them reappeared again, and looked about him in every
direction as a rat, and the others followed him one by one and did
the same. Then they danced for some time as before, and vanished into
the ground as they had done the first time. The two men, David Evans
and Evan Lewis were watching them from a distance of about 400 yards
and were more than astonished to see men, as they thought, acting in
such a strange and curious manner on the hill. They continued looking
for some time but the dancers did not appear again. At last the two
men proceeded on their journey till they came to an old man working
on the road whom they asked whether he knew anything about the men
they had seen dancing in a circle on the hill behind Maestwynog. The
old man replied that he had not the least idea, but had heard his
grandfather say that the Tylwyth Teg (Fairies) used to dance in his
time, at which explanation our two friends smiled.
In the above account we see that the hill near Maestwynog was a special
haunt of the Fairies, even in modern days. There are certain spots
here and there all over Wales, pointed out by old people to this day,
as having been frequented in former times by the Fairies to dance
and to sing. An old man named James Jones, Golden Lion, Llanarth,
informed me that when a boy he heard from the lips of old men, many a
tale of Fairies seen on Bank-rhydeiniol; and that they were mounted
on horses, riding and playing; and the late Rev. J. Davies, Moria,
mentions that there were traditions of them appearing on Bannau Duon
in the same parish. In the northern part of Cardiganshire, the people
of Talybont showed me a spot a few miles to the east of that village,
where these supernatural beings appeared long ago, more especially to
dance. The neighbourhood of Aberporth, in the southern part of the
same county, was also a favourite spot according to an old woman in
the village. Pant Shon Shenkin in the neighbourhood of Pencader was
a famous place for Carmarthenshire Fairies, of which district we have
already given the reader more than one story.
Gwynionydd in the Brython for 1860, remarks that in former times the
Fairies were fond of the mountains of Dyfed, and that travellers in
Cardiganshire, between Lampeter and the town of Cardigan often saw
them on Llanwenog hill; but after arriving on that spot they would
be seen far away on the mountains of Llandyssul, and expecting to
find them there, they would be seen somewhere else, both deluding
and eluding the traveller.
THE FAIRIES OF CWM MABWS, SEEN DRIVING IN THEIR CARRIAGES.
In the interesting small valley of Cwm Mabws, near Llanrhystyd,
nine miles from Aberystwyth, there is a rocky spot known as Craig
Rhydderch. Even within the memory of some who are still alive, the
caves of Craig Rhydderch were the favourite haunts of the Fairies,
where these mysterious beings were thought to dwell, or at least pass
through to the underground regions. The Fairies of this part were,
it was supposed, some kind of spirits or supernatural beings, and
were often seen in the Valley of Mabws going about in their phantom
carriages and horses. About fifty years ago when Fairies were still to
be seen in this neighbourhood, the eldest son of Penlan farm, and some
of the men servants one evening just before dark, took their horses
down to the little river which runs through the bottom of the valley
in order to give the animals water, as there was no water near the
farm-house which stood on high ground. As they were on their way to
the river they heard some noise on the road quite near them, and the
farmer's son said to the servants, "It is the noise of the Fairies
on their journey, and they are coming from the direction of Craig
Rhydderch; let us stand one side of the road to make room for them to
pass." And sure enough, just as he spoke, a number of Fairies appeared
on the scene and passed by as if they were on a journey. They were
little men with little horses and carriages, but my informant could
not tell me the colour of their dresses nor the colour of their horses
After taking their horses to the water and turning them into a field,
the men went home to Penlan; and as soon as they entered the house and
related what they had seen, another son of the farm had just arrived
home from Aberystwyth with a horse and cart, and he also had seen
the Fairies, just as he was turning to the road which led up the hill.
The above story was related to me by Mr. David Morgan, Carpenter,
Llanrhystyd, who vouches for the truth of the account as he was well
acquainted with the persons who saw the Fairies, and one of them was
a friend of his.
FAIRIES AND FOOTBALLERS.
There is a curious tradition that early one Easter Monday, when the
parishioners of Pencarreg and Caio were met to play at football, they
saw a numerous company of Fairies dancing. Being so many in number,
the young men were not intimidated at all, but proceeded in a body
towards the puny tribe, who perceiving them, removed to another
place. The young men followed, whereupon the little folk suddenly
disappeared dancing at the first place. Seeing this, the men divided
and surrounded them, when they immediately became invisible, and were
never more seen there. This was in Carmarthenshire.
Other places frequented by Fairies were Moyddin, between Lampeter
and Llanarth, in Troed yr Aur, in Cardiganshire.
FAIRIES MARKETING.
It was formerly believed in some parts of West Wales, especially
by the people dwelling near the sea coast, that the Fairies visited
markets and fairs, and that their presence made business very brisk. I
have already referred to the "Gwerddonau Llion," or the enchanted
"Isles of the Sea," inhabited by Fairy Tribes. These Fairies, it was
believed, went to and fro between the islands and shore, through
a subterranean gallery under the bottom of the sea, and regularly
attended the markets at Milford Haven, in Pembrokeshire and Laugharne
in Carmarthenshire. ("British Goblins," page 10.) They made their
purchases without speaking, laid down their money and departed, always
leaving the exact sum required, which they seemed to know, without
asking the price of anything. Sometimes they were invisible, but they
were often seen by sharp-eyed persons. There was one special butcher
at Milford Haven upon whom the Fairies bestowed their patronage,
instead of distributing their favours indiscriminately.
According to Gwynionydd in the "Brython," for 1858, page 110, these
Fairies also came to market to Cardigan, and it was thought they raised
the prices of things terribly whenever they came there. In that part
of the country they were known as "Plant Rhys Ddwfn." No one saw them
coming there or going away, only seen there in the market. When prices
in the market happened to be high, and the corn all sold, however,
much there might have been there in the morning, the poor used to say
to one another on the way home, "Oh! They were there to-day," meaning
"Plant Rhys Ddwfn," or the Fairies. These Fairies were liked by the
farmers who had corn to sell, but disliked by the poor labourers who
had to buy corn and give higher price for it. Gwynionydd also says
that: "A certain Gruffydd Ap Einon was wont to sell them more corn
than anybody else, and that he was a great friend of theirs. He was
honoured by them beyond all his contemporaries by being led on a visit
to their home. As they were great traders, like the Phoenicians of old,
they had treasures from all countries under the sun. Gruffydd, after
feasting his eyes to satiety on their wonders was led back by them
loaded with presents. But before taking leave of them, he asked them
how they succeeded in keeping themselves safe from invaders, as one of
their number might become unfaithful, and go beyond the virtue of the
herbs that formed their safety. "Oh!" replied the little old man of
shrewd looks, "Just as Ireland has been blessed with a soil on which
venomous reptiles cannot live, so with our land; no traitor can live
here. Look at the sand on the seashore; perfect unity prevails there,
and so among us." Rhys, the father of our race, bade us even to the
most distant descendant to honour our parents and ancestors; love our
own wives without looking at those of our neighbours, and do our best
for our children and grandchildren. And he said that if we did so,
no one of us would prove unfaithful to another, or become what you
call a traitor. The latter is a wholly imaginary character among us;
strange pictures are drawn of him with his feet like those of an ass,
with a nest of snakes in his bosom, with a head like the Devil's, with
hands somewhat like a man's while one of them holds a large knife and
the family dead around him Good-bye!" When Gruffydd looked about him
he lost sight of the country of Plant Rhys, and found himself near
his home. He became very wealthy after this, and continued to be a
great friend of Plant Rhys as long as he lived. After Gruffydd's death
they came to the market again, but such was the greed of the farmers,
like Gruffydd before them, for riches, and so unreasonable were the
prices they asked for their corn, that the Rhysians took offence and
came no more to Cardigan to market. The old people used to think that
they now went to Fishguard market, as very strange people were wont
to be seen there."
FAIRY CHANGELINGS.
Mr. B. Davies in the II. Vol. of the "Brython," page 182, gives the
following tale of a Fairy Changeling in the neighbourhood of Newcastle
Emlyn, in the Vale of Teifi, and on the borders of Carmarthenshire
and Cardiganshire:--
"One calm hot day, when the sun of heaven was brilliantly shining,
and the hay in the dales was being busily made by lads and lasses,
and by grown-up people of both sexes, a woman in the neighbourhood
of Emlyn placed her one-year-old infant in the "gader" or chair, as
the cradle is called in these parts, and out she went to the field
for a while, intending to return when her neighbour, an old woman
overtaken by the decrepitude of eighty summers, should call to her
that her Darling was crying. It was not long before she heard the old
woman calling to her; she ran hurriedly, and as soon as she set foot
on the kitchen floor, she took her little one in her arms as usual,
saying to him, "O my little one! thy mother's delight art thou! I
would not take the world for thee, etc." But to her surprise, he had
a very old look about him, and the more the tender-hearted mother
gazed at his face, the stranger it seemed to her, so that at last
she placed him in the cradle and told her sorrow to her relatives and
acquaintances. And after this one and the other had given his opinion,
it was agreed at last that it was one of Rhys Ddwfn's children that
was in the cradle, and not her dearly loved baby. In this distress
there was nothing to do but to fetch a wizard, or wise man, as fast
as the fastest horse could gallop. He said, when he saw the child
that he had seen his like before, and that it would be a hard job
to get rid of him, though not such a very hard job this time. The
shovel was made red hot in the fire by one of the Cefnarth (Cenarth)
boys, and held before the child's face; and in an instant the short
little old man took to his heels, and neither he nor his like was
seen afterwards from Abercuch to Aberbargod at any rate. The mother
found her darling unscathed the next moment. I remember also hearing
that the strange child was as old as the grandfather of the one that
had been lost."--"Celtic Folk-Lore" by Sir J. Rhys.
There are many such stories in different parts of Wales and Scotland,
and in both countries Fairies were believed to have a fatal admiration
for lovely children, and credited with stealing them, especially
unbaptized infants.
A Welsh poet thus sings:--
"Llawer plentyn teg aeth ganddynt,
Pan y cym'rynt helynt hir;
Oddiar anwyl dda rieni,
I drigfanau difri dir.
The Rev. Elias Owen's translation of the above is as follows:--
"Many a lovely child they've taken,
When long and bitter was the pain;
From their parents, loving, dear,
To the Fairies' dread domain."
Another popular mode of treatment resorted to in order to reclaim
children from the Fairies, and to get rid of ugly changelings was as
follows:--The mother was to carry the changeling to a river, and when
at the brink, the wizard who accompanied her was to cry out:--
"Crap ar y wrach"--
(A grip on the hag.)
and the mother was to respond:--
"Rhy hwyr gyfraglach"--
(Too late decrepit one);
Then the mother was to throw the changeling into the river, and then
returning home, where she would find her own child safe and sound.
It was believed that the Fairies were particularly busy in exchanging
children on St. John's Eve.
HOW TO DETECT CHANGELINGS.
One way of finding out whether children were Changelings or not was
to listen to them speaking. If suspected children were heard speaking
things above the understanding of children, it was considered a proof
that they were changelings. This was a wide-spread belief in Wales.
Fairies did not always come to steal children, however, for they
were believed in some places to enter the houses at night to dance
and sing until the morning, and leave on the hearth-stone a piece
of money as a reward behind them, should they find the house clean;
but should it be dirty, they came to punish the servant girl. The
good Fairies known as "Bendith y Mamau," were supposed to rock the
infant's cradle and sweep and clean the house whilst the tired mother
slept. And one way of securing their good luck was to leave a little
milk for them upon the kitchen table at night.
FAIRY MONEY.
An old man named Evan Morris, Goginan, informed me that a farmer
in the Vale of Rheidol one day found a sixpence on the top of a
gate-post. On the next day he found a shilling there, and on the day
after two shillings, the sum was doubled every day till the man was
beginning to get rich. At last, however, the farmer told his family or
his friends about his good luck, and after this he got no more money,
as the Fairies were offended that he did not keep the thing secret.
FAIRY MOTHERS AND HUMAN MIDWIVES.
The following story is to be found in Welsh in an interesting
little book entitled "Ystraeon y Gwyll," by the late Mr. D. Lledrod
Davies; and in English by Sir John Rhys in his great work "Celtic
Folk-Lore":--The locality of the tale is Swyddffynon, near Ystrad
Meurig, in Cardiganshire.
"It used to be related by an old woman who died some thirty years
ago at the advanced age of about 100. She was Pali, mother of old
Rachel Evans, who died seven or eight years ago, when she was about
eighty. The latter was a curious character, who sometimes sang
"Maswedd," or rhymes of doubtful propriety, and used to take the
children of the village to see fairy rings. She also used to see the
"Tylwyth" (Fairies), and had many tales to tell of them. But her
mother, Pali, had actually been called to attend at the confinement
of one of them. The beginning of the tale is not very explicit; but,
anyhow, Pali one evening found herself face to face with the Fairy
lady she was to attend upon. She appeared to be the wife of one of
the princes of the country. She was held in great esteem, and lived
in a very grand palace. Everything there had been arranged in the
most beautiful and charming fashion. The wife was in her bed with
nothing about her but white, and she fared sumptuously. In due time,
when the baby had been born, the midwife had all the care connected
with dressing it and serving its mother. Pali could see or hear nobody
in the whole place, but the mother and the baby. She had no idea who
attended on them, or who prepared all the things they required, for
it was all done noiselessly and secretly. The mother was a charming
person, of an excellent temper and easy to manage. Morning and evening,
as she finished washing the baby, Pali had a certain ointment given
her to rub the baby with. She was charged not to touch it, but with
her hand, and especially not to put any near her eyes. This was
carried out for some time, but one day, as she was dressing the baby,
her eyes happened to itch, and she rubbed them with her hand. Then
at once she saw a great many wonders she had not before perceived;
and the whole place assumed a new aspect to her. She said nothing,
and in the course of the day she saw a great deal more. Among other
things, she observed small men and small women going in and out
following a variety of occupations. But their movements were as light
as the morning breezes. To move about was no trouble to them, and they
brought things into the room with the greatest quickness. They prepared
dainty food for the confined lady with the utmost order and skill,
and the air of kindness and affection with which they served her
was truly remarkable. In the evening, as she was dressing the baby,
the midwife said to the lady, "You have had a great many visitors
to-day." To this she replied, "How do you know that? Have you been
putting this ointment to your eyes?" Thereupon she jumped out of bed,
and blew into her eyes, saying, "Now you will see no more." She
never afterwards could see the fairies, however much she tried,
nor was the ointment entrusted to her after that day."
There is a version of this story located in the neighbourhood of
Llanuwchllyn, Merionethshire, and indeed in several other parts
of Wales.
FAIRIES PLAYING TRICKS WITH THE OVEN.
Miss Evelyn Lewes, Tyglyn Aeron, in the "Carmarthenshire Antiquities"
says, "Should the dough not rise properly, but present a stringy
appearance, the Cardiganshire housewife announces that "Mae bara
yn robin," and forthwith orders the sacrifice of an old slipper,
presumably to propitiate the fairy folk who are inclined to play
tricks with the oven.... A native of Montgomeryshire tells me that
in her youth no loaf at her home was ever placed in the oven unless
a cross had been previously signed upon it."
FAIRY GLOVES.
Mrs. A. Crawley-Boevey, of Birchgrove, Crosswood, a lady who is
greatly interested in Folk-Lore, informed me that it is believed in
Gloucestershire that the Fairies live in Fox Gloves. I have not so
far discovered this belief in Wales, but Fox Glove is called in some
part of the Principality Menyg y Tylwyth Teg (Fairy Gloves). Also
Menyg Ellyllon (Elves Gloves).
FAIRY KNOCKERS.
Knockers were supposed to be a species of Fairies which haunted the
mines, and underground regions, and whose province it was to indicate
by knocks and other sounds, the presence of rich veins of ore. That
miners in former times did really believe in the existence of such
beings is quite evident from the following two letters written by Lewis
Morris (great grandfather of Sir Lewis Morris the poet) in October
14th, 1754, and December 4th, 1754. They appeared in Bingley's North
Wales, Vol. II., pages 269-272:
"People who know very little of arts or sciences, or the powers of
nature (which, in other words are the powers of the author of nature),
will laugh at us Cardiganshire miners, who maintain the existence of
"Knockers" in mines, a kind of good-natured impalpable people not to
be seen, but heard, and who seem to us to work in the mines; that
is to say, they are the types or forerunners of working in mines,
as dreams are of some accidents, which happen to us. The barometer
falls before rain, or storms. If we do not know the construction of
it, we should call it a kind of dream that foretells rain; but we
know it is natural, and produced by natural means, comprehended by
us. Now, how are we sure, or anybody sure, but that our dreams are
produced by the same natural means? There is some faint resemblance
of this in the sense of hearing; the bird is killed before we hear
the report of the gun. However, this is, I must speak well of the
"Knockers," for they have actually stood my good-friends, whether
they are aerial beings called spirits, or whether they are a people
made of matter, not to be felt by our gross bodies, as air and fire
and the like. "Before the discovery of the "Esgair y Mwyn" mine,
these little people, as we call them here, worked hard there day and
night; and there are honest, sober people, who have heard them, and
some persons who have no notion of them or of mines either; but after
the discovery of the great ore they were heard no more. When I began
to work at Llwyn Llwyd, they worked so fresh there for a considerable
time that they frightened some young workmen out of the work. This was
when we were driving levels, and before we had got any ore; but when
we came to the ore, they then gave over, and I heard no more talk of
them. Our old miners are no more concerned at hearing them "blasting,"
boring holes, landing "deads," etc., than if they were some of their
own people; and a single miner will stay in the work, in the dead of
night, without any man near him, and never think of any fear of any
harm they will do him. The miners have a notion that the "knockers"
are of their own tribe and profession, and are a harmless people who
mean well. Three or four miners together shall hear them sometimes,
but if the miners stop to take notice of them, the "knockers" will
also stop; but, let the miners go on at their work, suppose it is
"boring," the "knockers" will at the same time go on as brisk as can
be in landing, "blasting." or beating down the "loose," and they are
always heard a little distance from them before they come to the ore.
"These are odd assertions, but they are certainly facts, though we
cannot, and do not pretend to account for them. We have now very
good ore at "Llwyn Llwyd," where the "knockers" were heard to work,
but we have now yielded the place, and are no more heard. Let who
will laugh, we have the greatest reason to rejoice, and thank the
"knockers," or rather God, who sends us these notices."
The second letter is as follows:--
"I have no time to answer your objection against 'knockers'; I have
a large treatise collected on that head, and what Mr. Derham says is
nothing to the purpose. If sounds of voices, whispers, blasts, working,
or pumping, can be carried on a mile underground, they should always
be heard in the same place, and under the same advantages, and not
once in a month, a year, or two years. Just before the discovery of
ore last week, three men together in our work at "Llwyn Llwyd" were
ear-witnesses of "knockers," pumping, driving a wheelbarrow, etc.;
but there is no pump in the work, nor any mine within less than a
mile of it, in which there are pumps constantly going. If they were
these pumps that they heard, why were they never heard but that once
in the space of a year? And why are they not now heard? But the pumps
make so little noise that they cannot be heard in the other end of
"Esgair y Mwyn" mine when they are at work. We have a dumb and deaf
tailor in the neighbourhood who has a particular language of his
own by signs, and by practice I can understand him and make him
understand me pretty well, and I am sure I could make him learn to
write, and be understood by letters very soon, for he can distinguish
men already by the letters of their names. Now letters are marks to
convey ideas, just after the same manner as the motion of fingers,
hands, eyes, etc. If this man had really seen ore in the bottom of
a sink of water in a mine and wanted to tell me how to come at it,
he would take two sticks like a pump, and would make the motions of a
pumper at the very sink where he knew the ore was, and would make the
motions of driving a wheelbarrow. And what I should infer from thence
would be that I ought to take out the water and sink or drive in the
place, and wheel the stuff out. By parity of reasoning, the language
of "knockers," by imitating the sound of pumping, wheeling, etc.,
signifies that we should take out the water and drive there. This is
the opinion of all old miners, who pretend to understand the language
of the "knockers." Our agent and manager, upon the strength of this
notice, goes on and expect great things. You, and everybody that is
not convinced of the being of "knockers," will laugh at these things,
for they sound like dreams; so does every dark science. Can you make
any illiterate man believe that it is possible to know the distance
of two places by looking at them? Human knowledge is but of small
extent, its bounds are within our view, we see nothing beyond these;
the great universal creation contains powers, etc., that we cannot
so much as guess at. May there not exist beings, and vast powers
infinitely smaller than the particles of air, to whom air is as hard
a body as the diamond is to us? Why not? There is neither great nor
small, but by comparison. Our "knockers" are some of these powers,
the guardians of mines.
"You remember the story in Selden's Table-Talk of Sir Robert Cotton and
others disputing about Moses's shoe. Lady Cotton came in and asked,
'Gentlemen, are you sure it is a shoe?' So the first thing is to
convince mankind that there is a set of creatures, a degree or so
finer than we are, to whom we have given the name of "knockers" from
the sounds we hear in our mines. This is to be done by a collection
of their actions well attested, and that is what I have begun to do,
and then let everyone judge for himself."
We do not hear of "Knockers" in Cardiganshire now; in Cornwall,
however, it is said that they still haunt the mines, and sometimes,
with a sound of knocking and singing, they guide a lucky miner to
find good ore. The "Knockers" were, it was once thought, "the Souls
of the Jews who crucified our Saviour." At least it seems that that
was the belief in Cornwall. Perhaps it would be of interest to add
that there were Cornishmen among the miners of Cardiganshire when
Mr. Lewis Morris wrote the two letters I have just given.
A STORY OF PONT EINION (EINION BRIDGE) TREGARON.
Mr. John Jones, Pontrhydfendigaid, who is now about 95 years of age,
related to me the following tale seven years ago:--
Long ago, when much of the land where now stand the farms of
Ystrad-Caron, Penylan, and Penybont, was a Common, a gentleman named
Einion, and his wife, came from Abergwaun (Fishguard) and settled in
the neighbourhood of Tregaron. Einion inclosed much of the land on
the banks of the river Teivy in that part, and built a fine mansion
which he called Ystrad-Caron, and soon became a most influential
man in the neighbourhood, especially as he was well-to-do, and had
generously constructed at his own expense, a bridge over the river
for the convenience of the poor people of Tregaron and the surrounding
districts. He also loved above everything his wife, and his harp, and
was considered one of the best players on that instrument in Wales;
but, unfortunately, as time went on, he failed to derive any pleasure
from his surroundings and soon became subject to "melancholia,"
imagining that the place was haunted by some evil genius.
At last, he was persuaded by his medical adviser to seek a change
of scenery by going to stay for a while in Pembrokeshire, his native
place. Soon after his arrival at Fishguard, he took a short sea voyage
from that port, but after some adventures, he and others of his fellow
passengers were taken prisoners by a French Man of War.
After spending many years of his lifetime inside the strong walls of
a French prison, he at last succeeded to escape, and soon found his
way once more to the neighbourhood of Tregaron in Cardiganshire; but
to his great astonishment, as he neared his own house, Ystrad-Caron,
after so many years' absence, he heard some music and dancing.
Clothed in rags he knocked at the back door, and pretended to be
a tramp. One of the maid servants took compassion on the "poor
old tramp," and allowed him to come in and warm himself near the
kitchen fire.
"We are very busy here to-day," said she to him, "our mistress who
has been a widow for many years is about to get married again, and
the bride and bridegroom and a party of invited guests are now in the
parlour, but, unfortunately, not one of those present is able to tune
the harp, a fine old instrument which belonged to the lady's first
husband who went away from home and got drowned at sea many years
ago." "Please ask them to allow me to tune the harp," said Einion to
the maid. The girl then went to inform her mistress that there was
an old man in the kitchen who could tune the harp for them.
Einion now entered the parlour, and to the astonishment of the bride
and bridegroom and the guests, soon tuned the harp; and as soon as
he began to play an old favourite tune of his:
"Myfi bia'm ty, a'm telyn, a'm tân,"
(My house, and my harp, and my fire are mine).
The lady of the house recognised him at once as her husband.
Then turning to the young bridegroom to whom she was engaged to be
married, addressed him thus:--"You may go now, as my husband has come
home to me once more."
A short time after my visit to Mr. J. Jones, Pontrhydfendigaid, I
went to Tregaron, where I found out from Mr. Jenkin Lloyd (formerly
of Pant), and others, that the story of Pont Einion (Einion Bridge)
was well-known in the neighbourhood, but that Einion during the many
years he was away from home, was not in prison but among the Fairies.
It seems probable that the above story is a modern local version
of a tale which is to be found in the Iolo MSS. entitled:--"Einion
Ap Gwalchmai and the Lady of the Greenwood," which I introduce here
for comparison:--
Einion, the son of Gwalchmai, the son of Meilir, of Treveilir in
Anglesey, married Angharad, the daughter of Ednyved Vychan.
As he was one fine summer morning walking in the woods of Treveilir,
he beheld a graceful slender lady of elegant growth, and delicate
features; 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. 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. But she told
him that his dissatisfaction was all in vain. "Thou must" said she,
"follow me wheresoever I go, as long as I continue in my beauty,
for this is the consequence of our mutual affection."
Then he requested of her permission to go to his house to take leave
of, and to say farewell to his wife, Angharad, and his son Einion. "I"
said she, "shall be with thee, invisible to all but to thyself;
go visit thy wife and thy son."
So he went, and the Goblin; 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 he knew not where; for a powerful illusion was upon him,
and saw not any place, a 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 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. "Dos't thou desire to see her," said the man
in white, "get up on 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 betwixt 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 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 from 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 anyone,
nor did anyone know him. After the Goblin had left Einion, the son
of Gwalchmai, she went to Treveilir in the form of an honourable and
powerful nobleman elegantly and sumptuously appareled, and possessed
of an incalculable amount of gold and silver, and also in the prime
of life, that is thirty years of age. And he placed a letter in
Angharad's hand in which it was stated that Einion had died in Norway
more than nine years before, and he then exhibited his gold and wealth
to Angharad; and she, having in the course of time lost much of her
regret, listened to his affectionate address. 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 kind of 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. And when the honourable saw a particularly
beautiful harp in Angharad's room, he wished to have it played on;
and the harpers present, the best in Wales, tried to put it in tune,
but were not able. And when everything was made ready for to proceed
to Church to be married, Einion came into the house and Angharad saw
him as an old decrepit, withered, gray-haired man, stooping with
age, and dressed in rags, and she asked him if he would turn the
spit whilst the meat was roasting. "I will," said he and went about
the work with the white staff in his hand after the manner of a man
carrying a pilgrim's staff. And after dinner had been prepared, all
the minstrels failing to put the harp in tune for Angharad, Einion
got up and took it in his hand, and tuned it, and played on it the
air which Angharad loved. And she marvelled exceedingly, and asked
him who he was. And he answered in song and stanza thus:
"Einion the golden-hearted, am I called by all around;
The son of Gwalchmai, Ap Meilir
My fond illusion continued long,
Evil thought of for my lengthened stay."
"Where has thou been?"
"In Kent, in Gwent, in the wood in Monmouth, in Maelor 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 the hair.
Where once my aspect was spirited and bold;
Now gray, without disguise, where once it was yellow;
The blossoms of the grave--the end of all men.
The fate that so long affected me, it was time that should
alter me;
Never was Angharad out of my remembrance,
Einion was by thee forgotten."
And she 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 the 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 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, or 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; Einion and Angharad and Einion
their son; and exceeding great was the enjoyment. And they saw the
illusion which the demoniacal Goblin had cast over them. And by this
perchance may be seen that love of female beauty and gentleness is the
greatest fascination of man; the love of honours with their vanities
and riches, is the greatest fascination of woman. No man will forget
his wife, unless he sets his heart on the beauty of another; nor woman
her husband, unless she sets her heart on the riches and honour of
lordly vaingloriousness and the pomp of pride. And thus it ends."
Ednyved Vychan, whose name is mentioned in the beginning of the
above story as Einion's father-in-law, was Lord of Brynffenigl in
Denbighshire, and flourished seven hundred years ago. He was a most
powerful chieftain, and from him descended in the male line Henry
VII. King of England, an ancestor to nearly all if not all the present
monarchs of Europe.
MERMAIDS.
It seems probable that the tradition of Mermaids is of the same origin
as that of fairies.
In Campbell's Superstitions of the Scottish Highlands, it is stated
that a man in North Harris, caught a mermaid on a rock, and to
procure her release, she granted him his three wishes. He became
a skilful herb-doctor, who could cure the King's evil and other
diseases ordinarily incurable. This reminds us of the Fairy Lady of
Llyn y Fanfach in Carmarthenshire, revealing to her sons the medical
qualities of certain herbs and plants, thus enabling them to become
eminent doctors.
In the Welsh tales the mermaid is described as half woman and half
fish: above the waist a lovely woman, but below the waist like a
fish. There are several mermaid stories on the west coast of Wales,
or perhaps, different versions of the same tale.
It was believed that vengeance overtook those who showed cruelty to
these beings, and there is a tradition still extant in Carmarthenshire,
that a man who killed one of them in the neighbourhood of Pembrey, or
Kidwelly, brought a curse upon himself, his family and his descendants
until the ninth generation.
In times gone by, it seems that Cardiganshire with a sea-coast of about
fifty miles, was noted for its mermaids; and according to Dryton,
at the Battle of Agincourt, the county had "a mermaid sitting on a
rock," as armorial bearings.
THE MERMAID AND THE FISHERMEN.
Mr. Lewis, Henbant, an old man who lives in the neighbourhood of
Llanarth, Cardiganshire, told me the following tale five years ago,
though I am indebted for some particulars to the Rev. D. Lewis, Vicar
of Llansantffread:--In times gone by a mermaid was often seen on a
rock known as Careg Ina, near New Quay. One day this sea creature
became entangled in the nets of some fishermen who were out fishing
some considerable distance from the land. She entreated the men to
disentangle her, and allow her to return to the water. Her request was
granted, and in gratitude the mermaid warned them of a coming storm,
and advised them to make for the shore without delay. This they did
hurriedly, and as they were nearing the land a terrific storm came
on suddenly, and it was with difficulty that they managed to land
safely. Other fishermen in another boat on the very same day, not
having the advantage of being warned by the mermaid, were caught by
the storm and met with a watery grave.
I have also discovered a version of this story at Aberporth, a seaside
village some distance to the South of New Quay.
It was formerly believed that there were mermen as well as mermaids,
though I have no Welsh tale of a merman.
THE FISHERMEN OF LLANDUDOCH AND THE MERMAID.
The following tale appeared in Welsh fifty years ago in "Y Brython,"
Vol. I. page 73; and the writer was the late eminent Welshman
Gwynionydd, father of the present Vicar of Lledrod:--
"On a fine afternoon in September in the beginning of the last
century, a fisherman named Pergrin proceeded to a recess in the
rock near Pen Cemmes, (Pembrokeshire), and found there a mermaid
doing her hair, and he took the water lady prisoner to his boat. We
cannot imagine why the lady had not been more on her guard to avoid
such a calamity; but if sea maidens are anything like land maidens,
they often forget their duties when engaged in dealing with the oil
of Maccassar, and making themselves ready to meet the young men. We
know not what language is used by sea maidens ... but this one this
time at any rate, talked, it is said, very good Welsh; for when she
was in despair in Pergrin's custody weeping copiously, and with her
tresses all dishevelled, she called out "Pergrin, if thou wilt let me
go, I will give three shouts in the time of thy greatest need." So,
in wonder and fear he let her go to walk the streets of the deep and
visit her sweethearts there. Days and weeks passed without Pergrin
seeing her after this; but one hot afternoon, when the sea was pretty
calm, and the fishermen had no thought of danger, behold his old
acquaintance showing her head and locks, and shouting out in a loud
voice: "Pergrin! Pergrin! Pergrin! take up thy nets! take up thy
nets! take up thy nets!" Pergrin and his companion instantly obeyed
the message, and drew their nets in with great haste. In they went,
passed the bar, and by the time they had reached the Pwll Cam, the
most terrible storm had overspread the sea, while he and his companion
were safe on land. Twice nine others had gone out with them, but they
were all drowned, without having the chance of obeying the warning
of the water lady.
A version of the above story is to be found also in Carnarvonshire,
North Wales.
A MERMAID SEEN NEAR ABERYSTWYTH.
The following tale appeared in the interesting Welsh Magazine "Seren
Gomer," for June, 1823:--
"Yn mis Gorphenaf, 1826, ffarmwr o blwyf Llanuwchaiarn, yn nghylch
tair milltir o Aberystwyth, ty anedd yr hwn sydd o fewn i 300 llath o
lan y mor, a aeth i wared i'r creigiau, pan yr oedd yr haul yn cyfodi
ac yn pelydru yn hyfryd ar y mor, a gwelai fenyw (fel y tybiai)
yn ymolchi yn y mor, o fewn i dafliad carreg ato; ar y cyntaf efe
o wylder a aeth yn ei ol, ond ar adfyfyriad meddyliodd na fuasai
un fenyw yn myned allan mor bell i'r mor, gan ei fod yr amser hwnw
yn llifo; ac hefyd yr oedd yn sicr fod y dwfr yn chwe' troedfedd o
ddyfnder yn y fan y gwelodd hi yn sefyll. Wedi meddwl felly, efe a
syrthiodd ar ei wyneb, ac a ymlusgodd yn mlaen i fin y dibyn o ba le
y cafodd olwg gyflawn arni dros fwy na haner awr. Wedi edrych digon
arni ei hun, efe a ymlusgodd yn ei ol, ac a redodd i alw ei deulu i
weled yr olygfa ryfeddol hon; wedi dywedid wrthynt yr hyn a welsai,
efe a'u cyfarwyddodd o'r drws pa fan i fyned, ac ymlusgo i ymyl y
graig fel y gwnaethai efe. Aeth rhai o honynt heb ond haner gwisgo,
canys yr oedd yn foreu, a hwythau ond newydd gyfodi; ac wedi dyfod i'r
fan, gwelsant hi dros o gylch deng mynyd, tra bu y ffarmwr yn galw ei
wraig a'i blentyn ieuangaf. Pan ddaeth y wraig yn mlaen, ni syrthiodd
hi i lawr, fel y gwnaethau y rhai eraill, ond cerddodd yn mlaen yn
ngolwg y creadur; eithr cyn gynted ag y gwelodd y For-Forwyn hi,
soddodd i'r dwfr, a nofiodd ymaith, nes oedd o gylch yr un pollder
oddiwrth y tir ag y gwelsid hi ar y cyntaf; a'r holl deulu, y gwr,
y wraig, a'r plant, y gweision, a'r morwynion, y rhai oeddynt oll yn
ddeuddeg o rifedi, a redasant ar hyd y lan dros fwy na haner milltir,
ac yn agos yr holl amser hwnw gwelent hi yn y mor, a rhai gweithiau yr
oedd ei phen a'i hysgwyddau oll y tu uchaf i'r dwfr. Yr oedd carreg
fawr, dros lathen o uchder yn y mor, ar ba un y safai pan welwyd hi
gyntaf. Yr oedd yn sefyll allan o'r dwfr o'i chanol i fynu, a'r holl
deulu a dystient ei bod yn gymwys yr un fath o ran dull a maintioli
a dynes ieuanc o gylch deunaw oed. Yr oedd ei gwallt yn o fyr, ac
o liw tywyll; ei gwyneb yn dra thlws; ci gwddf a'i breichiau fel
arferol; ei bronau yn rhesymol, a'i chroen yn wynach nag eiddo un
person a welsant erioed o'r blaen. Plygai yn fynych, fel pe buasai
yn cymeryd dwfr i fynu ac yna yn dala ei llaw o flaen ei hwyneb dros
oddeutu haner mynyd. Pan blygai ei hun felly, gwelid rhyw beth du,
fel pe buasai cynffon fer, yn troi i fyny y tu ol iddi. Gwnaethai ryw
swn yn fynych tebyg i disian, yr hwn a barai i'r graig i adseinio. Y
ffarmwr, yr hwn a gafodd gyfleusdra i edrych arni dros gymaint o amser,
a ddywedai na welodd ef ond ychydig iawn o wragedd mor hardd-deg yr
olwg a'r For-Forwyn hon. Y mae yr holl deulu, yr ieuengaf o ba rai sydd
yn un ar ddeg oed, yn awr yn fyw, a chawsom yr hanes hwn, air yn ngair,
fel ei rhoddir yma, oddiwrthynt hwy eu hunain o fewn y mis diweddaf."
I have translated the above tale as literally as possible, almost
word for word, and in English it reads as follows:--
In the month of July, 1826, a farmer from the parish of Llanuwchaiarn,
about three miles from Aberystwyth, whose house is within 300 feet of
the seashore, descended the rock, when the sun was shining beautifully
upon the sea, and he saw a woman (as he thought) washing herself in
the sea within a stone's throw of him. At first, he modestly turned
back; but after a moment's reflection thought that a woman would not
go so far out into the sea, as it was flooded at the time, and he was
certain that the water was six feet deep in the spot where he saw her
standing. After considering the matter, he threw himself down on his
face and crept on to the edge of the precipice from which place he
had a good view of her for more than half-an-hour. After scrutinizing
her himself, he crept back to call his family to see this wonderful
sight. After telling them what he had seen, he directed them from the
door where to go and to creep near the rock as he had done. Some of
them went when they were only half dressed, for it was early in the
morning, and they had only just got up from bed. Arriving at the spot,
they looked at her for about ten minutes, as the farmer was calling
his wife and the younger child. When the wife came on, she did not
throw herself down as the others had done, but walked on within sight
of the creature; but as soon as the mermaid saw her, she dived into
the water, and swam away till she was about the same distance from
them as she was when she was first seen. The whole family, husband,
wife, children, menservants and maid-servants, altogether twelve in
number, ran along the shore for more than half-a-mile, and during
most of that time, they saw her in the sea, and sometimes her head
and shoulders were upwards out of the water. There was a large stone,
more than a yard in height, in the sea, on which she stood when she
was first seen. She was standing out of the water from her waist up,
and the whole family declared that she was exactly the same as a
young woman of about 18 years of age, both in shape and stature. Her
hair was short, and of a dark colour; her face rather handsome,
her neck and arms were like those of any ordinary woman, her breast
blameless and her skin whiter than that of any person they had ever
seen before. Her face was towards the shore. She bent herself down
frequently, as if taking up water, and then holding her hand before
her face for about half-a-minute. When she was thus bending herself,
there was to be seen some black thing as if there was a tail turning
up behind her. She often made some noise like sneezing, which caused
the rock to echo. The farmer who had first seen her, and had had the
opportunity of looking at her for some time, said that he had never
seen but very few women so handsome in appearance as this mermaid.
All the family, the youngest of whom is now eleven years old, are now
alive, and we obtained this account, word for word, as it is given
here, from them themselves within the last month.