In the Welsh tales given of Fairy dances the music is always spoken of as
most entrancing, and Shakespeare in felicitous terms gives utterance to
the same thought--
Music, lo! music, such as charmeth sleep.
I am indebted to the courtesy of the Rev. R. O. Williams, M.A., Vicar of
Holywell, for the following singular testimony to Fairy dancing. The
writer was the Rev. Dr. Edward Williams, at one time of Oswestry, and
afterwards Principal of the Independent Academy at Rotherham in
Yorkshire, who was born at Glan Clwyd, Bodfari, Nov. 14th, 1750, and died
March 9, 1813. The extract is to be seen in the autobiography of Dr.
Williams, which has been published, but the quotation now given is copied
from the doctor's own handwriting, which now lies before me.
It may be stated that Mr. Wirt Sikes, in his _British Goblins_, refers to
the Dwarfs of Cae Caled, Bodfari, as Knockers, but he was not justified,
as will be seen from the extract, in thus describing them. For the sake
of reference the incident shall be called--The Elf Dancers of Cae Caled.
_The Elf Dancers of Cae Caled_.
Dr. Edward Williams, under the year 1757, writes as follows:--
"I am now going to relate a circumstance in this young period of my life
which probably will excite an alternate smile and thoughtful reflection,
as it has often done in myself, however singular the fact and strong the
evidence of its authenticity, and, though I have often in mature age
called to my mind the principles of religion and philosophy to account
for it, I am forced to class it among my _unknowables_. And yet I may
say that not only the fact itself, but also the consideration of its
being to my own mind inexplicable, has afforded some useful reflections,
with which this relation need not be accompanied.
"On a fine summer day (about midsummer) between the hours of 12 at noon
and one, my eldest sister and myself, our next neighbour's children
Barbara and Ann Evans, both older than myself, were in a field called Cae
Caled near their house, all innocently engaged at play by a hedge under a
tree, and not far from the stile next to that house, when one of us
observed on the middle of the field a company of--what shall I call
them?--_Beings_, neither men, women, nor children, dancing with great
briskness. They were full in view less than a hundred yards from us,
consisting of about seven or eight couples: we could not well reckon
them, owing to the briskness of their motions and the consternation with
which we were struck at a sight so unusual. They were all clothed in
red, a dress not unlike a military uniform, without hats, but their heads
tied with handkerchiefs of a reddish colour, sprigged or spotted with
yellow, all uniform in this as in habit, all tied behind with the corners
hanging down their backs, and white handkerchiefs in their hands held
loose by the corners. They appeared of a size somewhat less than our
own, but more like dwarfs than children. On the first discovery we
began, with no small dread, to question one another as to what they could
be, as there were no soldiers in the country, nor was it the time for May
dancers, and as they differed much from all the human beings we had ever
seen. Thus alarmed we dropped our play, left our station, and made for
the stile. Still keeping our eyes upon them we observed one of their
company starting from the rest and making towards us with a running pace.
I being the youngest was the last at the stile, and, though struck with
an inexpressible panic, saw the _grim elf_ just at my heels, having a
full and clear, though terrific view of him, with his ancient, swarthy,
and grim complexion. I screamed out exceedingly; my sister also and our
companions set up a roar, and the former dragged me with violence over
the stile on which, at the instant I was disengaged from it, this warlike
Lilliputian leaned and stretched himself after me, but came not over.
With palpitating hearts and loud cries we ran towards the house, alarmed
the family, and told them our trouble. The men instantly left their
dinner, with whom still trembling we went to the place, and made the most
solicitous and diligent enquiry in all the neighbourhood, both at that
time and after, but never found the least vestige of any circumstance
that could contribute to a solution of this remarkable phenomenon. Were
any disposed to question the sufficiency of this quadruple evidence, the
fact having been uniformly and often attested by each of the parties and
various and separate examinations, and call it a childish deception, it
would do them no harm to admit that, comparing themselves with the scale
of universal existence, beings with which they certainly and others with
whom it is possible they may be surrounded every moment, they are but
children of a larger size. I know but few less credulous than the
relator, but he is no Sadducee. 'He who hath delivered will yet
deliver.'"
My friend, Mr. R. Prys Jones, B.A., kindly informs me that he has several
intelligent boys in his school, the Boys' Board School, Denbigh, from
Bodfari, and to them he read the preceding story, but not one of them had
ever heard of it. It is singular that the story should have died so soon
in the neighbourhood that gave it birth.
FAIRY TRICKS WITH MORTALS.
It was formerly believed in Wales that the Fairies, for a little fun,
sportively carried men in mid air from place to place, and, having
conveyed them to a strange neighbourhood, left them to return to their
homes as best they could. Benighted travellers were ever fearful of
encountering a throng of Fairies lest they should by them be seized, and
carried to a strange part of the country.
Allusion is made to this freak of the Fairies in the _Cambro-Briton_,
vol. i., p. 348:--
"And it seems that there was some reason to be apprehensive of
encountering these 'Fair people' in a mist; for, although allowed not to
be maliciously disposed, they had a very inconvenient practice of seizing
an unwary pilgrim, and hurrying him through the air, first giving him the
choice, however, of travelling above wind, mid-wind, or below wind. If
he chose the former, he was borne to an altitude somewhat equal to that
of a balloon; if the latter, he had the full benefit of all the brakes
and briars in his way, his contact with which seldom failed to terminate
in his discomfiture. Experienced travellers, therefore, always kept in
mind the advice of Apollo to Phaeton (In medio tutissimus ibis) and
selected the middle course, which ensured them a pleasant voyage at a
moderate elevation, equally removed from the branches and the clouds."
This description of an aerial voyage of a hapless traveller through Fairy
agency corresponds with the popular faith in every particular, and it
would not have been difficult some sixty, or so, years back, to have
collected many tales in various parts of Wales of persons who had been
subjected to this kind of conveyance.
The first mention that I have been able to find of this Fairy prank is in
a small book of prose poetry called _Gweledigaeth Cwrs y Byd_, or _Y
Bardd Cwsg_, which was written by the Revd. Ellis Wynne (born 1670-1,
died 1734), rector of Llanfair, near Harlech. The "Visions of the
Sleeping Bard" were published in 1703, and in the work appear many
superstitions of the people, some of which shall by and by be mentioned.
In the very commencement of this work, the poet gives a description of a
journey which he had made through the air with the Fairies. Addressing
these beings, he says:--"Atolwg, lan gynnulleidfa, yr wyf yn deall mai
rhai o bell ydych, a gymmerwch chwi Fardd i'ch plith sy'n chwennych
trafaelio?" which in English is--"May it please you, comely assembly, as
I understand that you come from afar, to take into your company a Bard
who wishes to travel?"
The poet's request is granted, and then he describes his aerial passage
in these words:--
"Codasant fi ar eu hysgwyddau, fel codi Marchog Sir; ac yna ymaith a ni
fel y gwynt, tros dai a thiroedd, dinasoedd a theyrnasoedd, a moroedd a
mynyddoedd, heb allu dal sylw ar ddim, gan gyflymed yr oeddynt yn hedeg."
This translated is:--
"They raised me on their shoulders, as they do a Knight of the Shire, and
away we went like the wind, over houses and fields, over cities and
kingdoms, over seas and mountains, but I was unable to notice
particularly anything, because of the rapidity with which they flew."
What the poet writes of his own flight with the Fairies depicts the then
prevailing notions respecting aerial journeys by Fairy agencies, and they
bear a striking resemblance to like stories in oriental fiction. That
the belief in this form of transit survived the days of _Bardd Cwsg_ will
be seen from the following tale related by my friend Mr. E. Hamer in his
Parochial Account of Llanidloes:--
_A Man Carried Through the Air by the Fairies_.
"One Edward Jones, or 'Ned the Jockey,' as he was familiarly called,
resided, within the memory of the writer, in one of the roadside cottages
a short distance from Llanidloes, on the Newtown road. While returning
home late one evening, it was his fate to fall in with a troop of
Fairies, who were not pleased to have their gambols disturbed by a
mortal. Requesting him to depart, they politely offered him the choice
of three means of locomotion, viz., being carried off by a 'high wind,
middle wind, or low wind.' The jockey soon made up his mind, and elected
to make his trip through the air by the assistance of a high wind. No
sooner had he given his decision, than he found himself whisked high up
into the air and his senses completely bewildered by the rapidity of his
flight; he did not recover himself till he came in contact with the
earth, being suddenly dropped in the middle of a garden near Ty Gough, on
the Bryndu road, many miles distant from the spot whence he started on
his aerial journey. Ned, when relating this story, would vouch for its
genuineness in the most solemn manner, and the person who narrated it to
the writer brought forward as a proof of its truth, 'that there was not
the slightest trace of any person going into the garden while Ned was
found in the middle of it.'"
Montgomeryshire Collections, vol. x., p. 247.
Mr. Hamer records another tale much like the foregoing, but the one I
have given is a type of all such stories.
Fairy illusion and phantasy were formerly firmly believed in by the
inhabitants of Wales. Fairies were credited with being able to deceive
the eyesight, if not also the other senses of man. One illustrative tale
of this kind I will now record. Like stories are heard in many parts.
The following story is taken from _Y Gordofigion_, p. 99, a book which
has more than once been laid under contribution.
FAIRY ILLUSIONS.
"Ryw dro yr oedd brodor o Nefyn yn dyfod adref o ffair Pwllheli, ac wrth
yr Efail Newydd gwelai _Inn_ fawreddog, a chan ei fod yn gwybod nad oedd
yr un gwesty i fod yno, gofynodd i un o'r gweision os oedd ganddynt
ystabl iddo roddi ei farch. Atebwyd yn gadarnhaol. Rhoddwyd y march yn
yr ystabl, ac aeth yntau i mewn i'r ty, gofynodd am _beint_ o gwrw, ac ni
chafodd erioed well cwrw na'r cwrw hwnw. Yn mhen ychydig, gofynodd am
fyned i orphwys, a chafodd hyny hefyd. Aeth i'w orweddle, yr hwn ydoedd
o ran gwychder yn deilwng i'r brenhin; ond wchw fawr! erbyn iddo ddeffro,
cafodd ei hun yn gorwedd ar ei hyd mewn tomen ludw, a'r ceffyl wedi ei
rwymo wrth bolyn clawdd gwrysg."
This in English is as follows:--"Once upon a time a native of Nefyn was
returning from Pwllheli fair, and when near Efail Newydd he saw a
magnificent Inn, and, as he knew that no such public-house was really
there, he went up to it and asked one of the servants whether they had a
stable where he could put up his horse. He was answered in the
affirmative. The horse was placed in the stable, and the man entered the
house and asked for a pint of beer, which he thought was the best he had
ever drunk. After awhile he inquired whether he could go to rest. This
also was granted him, and he retired to his room, which in splendour was
worthy of the king. But alas! when he awoke he found himself sleeping on
his back on a heap of ashes, and the horse tied to a pole in the hedge."
FAIRY MEN CAPTURED.
There are many tales current of wee Fairy men having been captured.
These tales are, however, evidently variants of the same story. The
dwarfs are generally spoken of as having been caught by a trapper in his
net, or bag, and the hunter, quite unconscious of the fact that a Fairy
is in his bag, proceeds homewards, supposing that he has captured a
badger, or some other kind of vermin, but, all at once, he hears the
being in the bag speak, and throwing the bag down he runs away in a
terrible fright. Such in short is the tale. I will proceed to give
several versions of this story.
1. _Gwyddelwern Version_.
The following tale was told by Mr. Evan Roberts, Ffridd Agored, a farmer
in the parish of Llanfwrog. Roberts heard the story when he was a youth
in the parish of Gwyddelwern. It is as follows:--
A man went from his house for peat to the stack on the hill. As he
intended to carry away only a small quantity for immediate use, he took
with him a bag to carry it home. When he got to the hill he saw
something running before him, and he gave chase and caught it and bundled
it into the bag. He had not proceeded far on his way before he heard a
small voice shout somewhere near him, "Neddy, Neddy." And then he heard
another small voice in the bag saying, "There is daddy calling me." No
sooner did the man hear these words than in a terrible fright he threw
the bag down, and ran home as fast as he could.
2. _The Llandrillo Version_.
I am indebted for the following tale to Mr. E. S. Roberts, schoolmaster,
Llantysilio, near Llangollen:--
Two men whilst otter-hunting in Gwyn Pennant, Llandrillo, saw something
reddish scampering away across the ground just before them. They thought
it was an otter, and watching it saw that it entered a hole by the side
of the river. When they reached the place they found, underneath the
roots of a tree, two burrows. They immediately set to work to catch
their prey. Whilst one of the men pushed a long pole into one of the
burrows, the other held the mouth of a sack to the other, and very
shortly into the sack rushed their prey and it was secured. The men now
went homewards, but they had not gone far, ere they heard a voice in the
bag say, "My mother is calling me." The frightened men instantly threw
the sack to the ground, and they saw a small man, clothed in red, emerge
therefrom, and the wee creature ran away with all his might to the
brushwood that grew along the banks of the river.
3. _The Snowdon Version_.
The following tale is taken from _Y Gordofigion_, p. 98:--
"Aeth trigolion ardaloedd cylchynol y Wyddfa un tro i hela pryf llwyd.
Methasant a chael golwg ar yr un y diwrnod cyntaf; ond cynllwynasant am
un erbyn trannoeth, trwy osod sach a'i cheg yn agored ar dwll yr arferai
y pryf fyned iddo, ond ni byddai byth yn dyfod allan drwyddo am ei fod yn
rhy serth a llithrig. A'r modd a gosodasant y sach oedd rhoddi cortyn
trwy dyllau yn ei cheg, yn y fath fodd ag y crychai, ac y ceuai ei cheg
pan elai rhywbeth iddi. Felly fu; aeth pawb i'w fan, ac i'w wely y noson
hono. Gyda'r wawr bore dranoeth, awd i edrych y sach, ac erbyn dyfod ati
yr oedd ei cheg wedi crychu, yn arwydd fod rhywbeth oddifewn. Codwyd hi,
a thaflodd un hi ar ei ysgwydd i'w dwyn adref. Ond pan yn agos i Bryn y
Fedw wele dorpyn o ddynan bychan yn sefyll ar delpyn o graig gerllaw ac
yn gwaeddi, 'Meirig, wyt ti yna, dwad?' 'Ydwyf,' attebai llais dieithr
(ond dychrynedig) o'r sach. Ar hyn, wele'r helwyr yn dechreu rhedeg
ymaith, a da oedd ganddynt wneyd hyny, er gadael y sach i'r pryf, gan
dybied eu bod wedi dal yn y sach un o ysbrydion y pwll diwaelod, ond
deallasant ar ol hyny mai un o'r Tylwyth Teg oedd yn y sach."
The tale in English reads thus:--"Once the people who lived in the
neighbourhood of Snowdon went badger-hunting. They failed the first day
to get sight of one. But they laid a trap for one by the next day. This
they did by placing a sack's open mouth with a noose through it at the
entrance to the badger's den. The vermin was in the habit of entering
his abode by one passage and leaving it by another. The one by which he
entered was too precipitous and slippery to be used as an exit, and the
trappers placed the sack in this hole, well knowing that the running
noose in the mouth of the sack would close if anything entered. The next
morning the hunters returned to the snare, and at once observed that the
mouth of the sack was tightly drawn up, a sign that there was something
in it. The bag was taken up and thrown on the shoulders of one of the
men to be carried home. But when they were near Bryn y Fedw they saw a
lump of a little fellow, standing on the top of a rock close by and
shouting, 'Meirig, are you there, say?' 'I am,' was the answer in a
strange but nervous voice. Upon this, the hunters, throwing down the
bag, began to run away, and they were glad to do so, although they had to
leave their sack behind them, believing, as they did, that they had
captured one of the spirits of the bottomless pit. But afterwards they
understood that it was one of the Fairy Tribe that was in the sack."
There was at one time a tale much like this current in the parish of
Gyffylliog, near Ruthin, but in this latter case the voice in the bag
said, "My father is calling me," though no one was heard to do so. The
bag, however, was cast away, and the trapper reported that he had
captured a Fairy!
4. _The Llanfair Dyffryn Clwyd Version_.
Mr. Evan Davies, carpenter, Bryn Llan, Efenechtyd, told the writer that
Robert Jones, innkeeper, in the same parish, told him the following tale,
mentioning at the same time the man who figures in the narrative, whose
name, however, I have forgotten. The story runs thus:--
A man, wishing to catch a fox, laid a bag with its mouth open, but well
secured, at the entrance to a fox's den in Coed Cochion, Llanfair Dyffryn
Clwyd parish, and hid himself to await the result. He had seen the fox
enter its lair, and he calculated that it would ere long emerge
therefrom. By and by, he observed that something had entered the bag,
and going up to it, he immediately secured its mouth, and, throwing the
bag over his shoulder, proceeded homewards, but he had not gone far on
his way before he heard someone say, "Where is my son John?" The man,
however, though it was dark, was not frightened, for he thought that
possibly some one was in search of a lad who had wandered from home. He
was rather troubled to find that the question was repeated time after
time by some one who apparently was following him. But what was his
terror when, ere long, he heard a small voice issue from the bag he was
carrying, saying "There is dear father calling me." The man in a
terrible fright threw the bag down, and ran away as fast as his feet
could carry him, and never stopped until he reached his home, and when he
came to himself he related the story of his adventure in the wood to his
wife.
FAIRIES IN MARKETS AND FAIRS.
It was once firmly believed by the Welsh that the Fairy Tribe visited
markets and fairs, and that their presence made business brisk. If there
was a buzz in the market place, it was thought that the sound was made by
the Fairies, and on such occasions the farmers' wives disposed quickly of
their commodities; if, however, on the other hand, there was no buzz, the
Fairies were absent, and there was then no business transacted.
Mr. Richard Jones, Ty'n-y-Wern, Bryneglwys, who, when a youth, lived in
Llanbedr parish, near Ruthin, informed the writer that his mother, after
attending a market at Ruthin, would return home occasionally with the sad
news that "They were not there," meaning that the Fairies were not
present in the market, and this implied a bad market and no sweets for
Richard. On the other hand, should the market have been a good one, she
would tell them that "They filled the whole place," and the children
always had the benefit of their presence.
This belief that the Fairies sharpened the market was, I think, general.
I find in _Y Gordofigion_, p. 97, the following words:--
"Byddai y Tylwyth Teg yn arfer myned i farchnadoedd y Bala, ac yn gwneud
twrw mawr heb i neb eu gweled, ac yr oedd hyny yn arwydd fod y farchnad
ar godi," which is:--
The Fairies were in the habit of frequenting Bala markets, and they made
a great noise, without any one seeing them, and this was a sign that the
market was sharpening.
NAMES OF THINGS ATTRIBUTED TO THE FAIRIES.
Many small stone utensils found in the ground, the use, or the origin, of
which was unknown to the finders, were formerly attributed to the
Fairies. Thus, flint arrow-heads were called elf shots, from the belief
that they once belonged to Elves or Fairies. And celts, and other stone
implements, were, by the peasants of Wales and other places, ascribed to
the same small folk. Very small clay pipes were also attributed to the
same people. All this is curious evidence of a pre-existing race, which
the Celts supplanted, and from whom, in many respects, they differed.
Although we cannot derive much positive knowledge from an enumeration of
the articles popularly associated with the Fairies, still, such a list,
though an imperfect one, will not be void of interest. I will,
therefore, describe certain pre-historic remains, which have been
attributed to the aboriginal people of Britain.
_Fairy Pipes_.
_Cetyn y Tylwyth Teg_, or Fairy Pipes, are small clay pipes, with bowls
that will barely admit the tip of the little finger. They are found in
many places, generally with the stem broken off, though usually the bowl
is perfect.
A short time ago I stayed awhile to talk with some workmen who were
engaged in carting away the remains of a small farm house, once called _Y
Bwlch_, in the parish of Efenechtyd, Denbighshire, and they told me that
they had just found a Fairy Pipe, or, as they called it, _Cetyn y Tylwyth
Teg_, which they gave me. A similar pipe was also picked up by Lewis
Jones, Brynffynon, on Coed Marchan, in the same parish, when he was
enclosing a part of the mountain allotted to his farm. In March, 1887,
the workmen employed in taking down what were at one time buildings
belonging to a bettermost kind of residence, opposite Llanfwrog Church,
near Ruthin, also discovered one of these wee pipes. Pipes, identical in
shape and size, have been found in all parts of Wales, and they are
always known by the name of _Cetyn y Tylwyth Teg_, or Fairy Pipes.
In Shropshire they have also been discovered in the Fens, and the late
Rev. Canon Lee, Hanmer, had one in his possession, which had been found
in those parts, and, it was called a Fairy Pipe.
_Fairy Whetstone_.
The small spindle whorls which belong to the stone age, and which have
been discovered in the circular huts, called _Cyttiau'r Gwyddelod_, which
are the earliest remains of human abodes in Wales, are by the people
called Fairy Whetstones, but, undoubtedly, this name was given them from
their resemblance to the large circular whetstone at present in common
use, the finders being ignorant of the original use of these whorls.
_Fairy Hammer and Fairy or Elf Stones_.
Stone hammers of small size have been ascribed to the Fairies, and an
intelligent Welsh miner once told the writer that he had himself seen, in
a very ancient diminutive mine level, stone hammers which, he said, had
once belonged to the Fairies.
Other pre-historic implements, as celts, have been denominated Fairy
remains. Under this head will come flint, or stone arrow-heads. These
in Scotland are known by the name Elf Shots or Fairy Stones.
Pennant's _Tour in Scotland_, 1769, p. 115, has the following reference
to these arrow-heads:--
"_Elf Shots_, i.e., the stone arrow-heads of the old inhabitants of this
island, are supposed to be weapons shot by Fairies at cattle, to which
are attributed any disorders they have."
Jamieson states in his Dictionary, under the heading Elf Shot:--"The _Elf
Shot_ or _Elfin Arrow_ is still used in the Highlands as an amulet."
Tradition, in thus connecting stone implements with the Fairies, throws a
dim light on the elfin community. But evidence is not wanting that the
Celts themselves used stone utensils.
The things which shall now be mentioned, as being connected with the
Fairies, owe their names to no foundation in fact, but are the offspring
of a fanciful imagination, and are attributed to the Fairies in agreement
with the more modern and grotesque notions concerning those beings and
their doings. This will be seen when it is stated that the Fox Glove
becomes a Fairy Glove, and the Mushroom, Fairy Food.
_Ymenyn y Tylwyth Teg, or Fairy Butter_.
I cannot do better than quote Pennant on this matter. His words are:--
"Petroleum, rock oil, or what the Welsh call it, _Ymenin tylwyth
teg_, or Fairies' butter, has been found in the lime stone strata in
our mineral country. It is a greasy substance, of an agreeable
smell, and, I suppose, ascribed to the benign part of those imaginary
beings. It is esteemed serviceable in rheumatic cases, rubbed on the
parts affected. It retains a place in our dispensary."
Pennant's _Whiteford_, p. 131.
_Bwyd Ellyllon_, _or Goblins' Food_.
This was a kind of fungus or mushroom. The word is given in Dr. Owen
Pughe's dictionary under the head _Ellyll_.
_Menyg y Tylwyth Teg_, _Or Fairy Gloves_.
The Fox Glove is so called, but in Dr. Owen Pughe's dictionary, under the
head _Ellyll_, the Fox Glove is called _Menyg Ellyllon_.
_Yr Ellyll Dan_, _or Goblin Fire_.
The Rev. T. H. Evans, in his _History of the Parish of Llanwddyn_, states
that in that parish "Will of the Wisp" is called "_Yr Ellyll Dan_." This
is indeed the common name for the _Ignis fatuus_ in most, if not in all
parts of Wales, but in some places where English is spoken it is better
known by the English term, "Jack o' Lantern," or "Jack y Lantern."
_Rhaffau'r Tylwyth Teg_, _or the Ropes of the Fairies_.
Professor Rhys, in his Welsh Fairy Tales--_Y Cymmrodor_ vol. v., p.
75--says, that gossamer, which is generally called in North Wales
_edafedd gwawn_, or _gwawn_ yarn, used to be called, according to an
informant, _Rhaffau'r Tylwyth Teg_, that is to say, the Ropes of the Fair
Family, thus associating the Fairies with marshy, or rushy, places, or
with ferns and heather as their dwelling places. It was supposed that if
a man lay down to sleep in such places the Fairies would come and bind
him with their ropes, and cover him with a gossamer sheet, which would
make him invisible, and incapable of moving.
FAIRY KNOCKERS, OR COBLYNAU.
The _Coblynau_ or _Knockers_ were supposed to be a species of Fairies who
had their abode in the rocks, and whose province it was to indicate by
knocks, and other sounds, the presence of ore in mines.
It would seem that many people had dim traditions of a small race who had
their dwellings in the rocks. This wide-spread belief in the existence
of cave men has, in our days, been shown to have had a foundation in
fact, and many vestiges of this people have been revealed by intelligent
cave hunters. But the age in which the cave men lived cannot even
approximately be ascertained. In various parts of Wales, in the lime
rock, their abodes have been brought to light. It is not improbable that
the people who occupied the caves of ancient days were, in reality, the
original Fairy Knockers. These people were invested, in after ages, by
the wonder-loving mind of man, with supernatural powers.
AEschylus, the Greek tragic poet, who died in the 69th year of his age,
B.C. 456, in _Prometheus Vinctus_, refers to cave dwellers in a way that
indicates that even then they belonged to a dateless antiquity.
In Prometheus's speech to the chorus--[Greek]--lines 458-461, is a
reference to this ancient tradition. His words, put into English, are
these:--"And neither knew the warm brick-built houses exposed to the sun,
nor working in wood, _but they dwelt underground_, like as little ants,
_in the sunless recesses of caves_."
The above quotation proves that the Greeks had a tradition that men in a
low, or the lowest state of civilization, had their abodes in caves, and
possibly the reference to ants would convey the idea that the cave
dwellers were small people. Be this as it may, it is very remarkable
that the word applied to a _dwarf_ in the dialects of the northern
countries of Europe signifies also a _Fairy_, and the dwarfs, or Fairies,
are there said to inhabit the rocks. The following quotation from
Jamieson's _Scottish Dictionary_ under the word _Droich_, a dwarf, a
pigmy, shows this to have been the case:--
"In the northern dialects, _dwerg_ does not merely signify a dwarf, but
also a _Fairy_! The ancient Northern nations, it is said, prostrated
themselves before rocks, believing that they were inhabited by these
pigmies, and that they thence gave forth oracles. Hence they called the
echo _dwergamal_, as believing it to be their voice or speech. . . They
were accounted excellent artificers, especially as smiths, from which
circumstance some suppose that they have received their name . . . Other
Isl. writers assert that their ancestors did not worship the pigmies as
they did the _genii_ or spirits, also supposed to reside in the rocks."
Bishop Percy, in a letter to the Rev. Evan Evans (_Ieuan Prydydd Hir_),
writes:--
"Nay, I make no doubt but Fairies are derived from the _Duergar_, or
Dwarfs, whose existence was so generally believed among all the
northern nations."
_The Cambro-Briton_, vol. i., p. 331.
And again in Percy's _Reliques of Ancient Poetry_, vol. iii., p. 171, are
these remarks:--
"It is well known that our Saxon ancestors, long before they left their
German forests, believed in the existence of a kind of diminutive demons,
or middle species between men and spirits, whom they called _Duergar_, or
Dwarfs, and to whom they attributed wonderful performances, far exceeding
human art."
Pennant, in his _Tour in Scotland_, 1772, pp. 55-56, when describing the
collieries of Newcastle, describes the Knockers thus:--
"The immense caverns that lay between the pillars exhibited a most gloomy
appearance. I could not help enquiring here after the imaginary
inhabitant, the creation of the labourer's fancy,
The swart Fairy of the mine;
and was seriously answered by a black fellow at my elbow that he really
had never met with any, but that his grandfather had found the little
implements and tools belonging to this diminutive race of subterraneous
spirits. The Germans believed in two species; one fierce and malevolent,
the other a gentle race, appearing like little old men, dressed like the
miners, and not much above two feet high; these wander about the drifts
and chambers of the works, seem perpetually employed, yet do nothing.
Some seem to cut the ore, or fling what is cut into vessels, or turn the
windlass, but never do any harm to the miners, except provoked; as the
sensible Agricola, in this point credulous, relates in his book, _de
Animantibus Subterraneis_."
Jamieson, under the word _Farefolkis_, writes:--"Besides the Fairies,
which are more commonly the subject of popular tradition, it appears that
our forefathers believed in the existence of a class of spirits under
this name that wrought in the mines;" and again, quoting from a work
dated 1658, the author of which says:--
"In northerne kingdomes there are great armies of devils that have their
services which they perform with the inhabitants of these countries, but
they are most frequent in rocks and _mines_, where they break, cleave,
and make them hollow; which also thrust in pitchers and buckets, and
carefully fit wheels and screws, whereby they are drawn upwards; and they
show themselves to the labourers, when they list, like phantoms and
ghosts."
The preceding quotations from Pennant and Jamieson correspond with the
Welsh miners' ideas of the _Coblynau_, or Knockers. There is a
difficulty in tracing to their origin these opinions, but, on the whole,
I am strongly inclined to say that they have come down to modern times
from that remote period when cave-men existed as a distinct people.
But now let us hear what our Welsh miners have to say about the
_Coblynau_. I have spoken to several miners on this subject, and,
although they confessed that they had not themselves heard these good
little people at work, still they believed in their existence, and could
name mines in which they had been heard. I was told that they are
generally heard at work in new mines, and that they lead the men to the
ore by knocking in its direction, and when the lode is reached the
knocking ceases.
But the following extracts from two letters written by Lewis Morris, a
well-known and learned Welshman, fully express the current opinion of
miners in Wales respecting Knockers. The first letter was written Oct.
14, 1754, and the latter is dated Dec. 4, 1754. They appear in Bingley's
_North Wales_, vol. ii., pp. 269-272. Lewis Morris writes:--
"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
abundance of 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 the night,
without any man near him, and never think of any fear or 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 have
now yielded up 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 had 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 this 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 expects
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."
The preceding remarks, made by an intelligent and reliable person,
conversant with mines, and apparently uninfluenced by superstition, are
at least worthy of consideration. The writer of these interesting
letters states positively that sounds were heard; whether his attempt to
solve the cause of these noises is satisfactory, and conclusive, is open
to doubt. We must believe the facts asserted, although disagreeing with
the solution of the difficulty connected with the sounds. Miners in all
parts of England, Scotland, Wales, Germany, and other parts, believe in
the existence of _Knockers_, whatever these may be, and here, as far as I
am concerned, I leave the subject, with one remark only, which is, that I
have never heard it said that anyone in Wales ever _saw_ one of these
_Knockers_. In this they differ from Fairies, who, according to popular
notions, have, time and again, been seen by mortal eyes; but this must
have been when time was young.
The writer is aware that Mr. Sikes, in his _British Goblins_, p. 28,
gives an account of _Coblynau_ or _Knockers_ which he affirms had been
seen by some children who were playing in a field in the parish of
Bodfari, near Denbigh, and that they were dancing like mad, and terribly
frightened the children. But in the autobiography of Dr. Edward
Williams, already referred to, p. 98, whence Mr. Sikes derived his
information of the Dwarfs of Cae Caled, they are called "_Beings_," and
not _Coblynau_.
Before concluding my remarks on Fairy Knockers I will give one more
quotation from Bingley, who sums up the matter in the following words:--
"I am acquainted with the subject only from report, but I can assure
my readers that I found few people in Wales that did not give full
credence to it. The elucidation of these extraordinary facts must be
left to those persons who have better opportunities of inquiring into
them than I have. I may be permitted to express a hope that the
subject will not be neglected, and that those who reside in any
neighbourhood where the noises are heard will carefully investigate
their cause, and, if possible, give to the world a more accurate
account of them than the present. In the year 1799 they were heard
in some mines in the parish of Llanvihangel Ysgeiviog, in Anglesea,
where they continued, at intervals, for some weeks."
Bingley's _North Wales_, vol. ii., p. 275.
In conclusion, I may remark that in living miners' days, as already
stated, Knockers have not been heard. Possibly Davy's Safety Lamp and
good ventilation have been their destruction. Their existence was
believed in when mining operations, such as now prevail, were unknown,
and their origin is to be sought for among the dim traditions that many
countries have of the existence of small cave men.
_The Pwka_, _or Pwca_.
Another imaginary being, closely allied to the Fairy family, was the
_Pwka_. He seems to have possessed many of the mischievous qualities of
Shakespeare's Puck, whom, also, he resembled in name, and it is said that
the _Pwka_, in common with the _Brownie_, was a willing worker.
The Rev. Edmund Jones in his _Book of Apparitions_ gives an account of
one of these goblins, which visited the house of Job John Harry, who
lived at a place called the Trwyn, and hence the visitor is called Pwka'r
Trwyn, and many strange tales are related of this spirit. The writer of
the _Apparitions_ states that the spirit stayed in Job's house from some
time before Christmas until Easter Wednesday. He writes:--"At first it
came knocking at the door, chiefly by night, which it continued to do for
a length of time, by which they were often deceived, by opening it. At
last it spoke to one who opened the door, upon which they were much
terrified, which being known, brought many of the neighbours to watch
with the family. T. E. foolishly brought a gun with him to shoot the
spirit, as he said, and sat in the corner. As Job was coming home that
night the spirit met him, and told him that there was a man come to the
house to shoot him, 'but,' said he, 'thou shalt see how I will beat him.'
As soon as Job was come to the house stones were thrown at the man that
brought the gun, from which he received severe blows. The company tried
to defend him from the blows of the stones, which did strike him and no
other person; but it was in vain, so that he was obliged to go home that
night, though it was very late; he had a great way to go. When the
spirit spoke, which was not very often, it was mostly out of the oven by
the hearth's side. He would sometimes in the night make music with Harry
Job's fiddle. One time he struck the cupboard with stones, the marks of
which were to be seen, if they are not there still. Another time he gave
Job a gentle stroke upon his toe, when he was going to bed, upon which
Job said, 'Thou art curious in smiting,' to which the spirit answered, 'I
can smite thee where I please.' They were at length grown fearless and
bold to speak to it, and its speeches and actions were a recreation to
them, seeing it was a familiar kind of spirit which did not hurt them,
and informed them of some things which they did not know. One old man,
more bold than wise, on hearing the spirit just by him, threatened to
stick him with his knife, to which he answered, 'Thou fool, how can thou
stick what thou cannot see with thine eyes.' The spirit told them that
he came from Pwll-y-Gaseg, _i.e_., Mare's Pit, a place so called in the
adjacent mountain, and that he knew them all before he came there. . . .
On Easter Wednesday he left the house and took his farewell in these
words:--'Dos yn iack, Job,' _i.e_., 'Farewell, Job,' to which Job said,
'Where goest thou?' He was answered, 'Where God pleases.'"
The Pwka was credited with maliciously leading benighted men astray. He
would appear with a lantern or candle in hand, some little distance in
front of the traveller, and without any exertion keep ahead of him, and
leading him through rocky and dangerous places, would suddenly, with an
ironical laugh blow out the candle, and disappear, and leave the man to
his fate.
The following tale, taken from Croker's _Fairy Legends of Ireland_, vol.
ii., pp. 231-3, well illustrates this mischievous trait in the character
of the Pwka. The writer has seen the tale elsewhere, but as it differs
only slightly from that recorded by Croker, he gives it in the words of
this author. His words are as follows:--
"Cwm Pwcca, or the Pwcca's Valley, forms part of the deep and romantic
glen of the Clydach, which, before the establishment of the iron works of
Messrs. Frere and Powell, was one of the most secluded spots in Wales,
and therefore well calculated for the haunt of goblins and fairies; but
the bustle of a manufactory has now in a great measure scared these
beings away, and of late it is very rarely that any of its former
inhabitants, the Pwccas, are seen. Such, however, is their attachment to
their ancient haunt, that they have not entirely deserted it, as there
was lately living near this valley a man who used to assert that he had
seen one, and had a narrow escape of losing his life, through the
maliciousness of the goblin. As he was one night returning home over the
mountain from his work, he perceived at some distance before him a light,
which seemed to proceed from a candle in a lantern, and upon looking more
attentively, he saw what he took to be a human figure carrying it, which
he concluded to be one of his neighbours likewise returning from his
work. As he perceived that the figure was going the same way with
himself, he quickened his pace in order that he might overtake him, and
have the benefit of his light to descend the steep and rocky path which
led into the valley; but he rather wondered that such a short person as
appeared to carry the lantern should be able to walk so fast. However,
he re-doubled his exertions, determined to come up with him, and although
he had some misgivings that he was not going along the usual track, yet
he thought that the man with the lantern must know better than himself,
and he followed the direction taken by him without further hesitation.
Having, by dint of hard walking, overtaken him, he suddenly found himself
on the brink of one of the tremendous precipices of Cwm Pwcca, down which
another step would have carried him headlong into the roaring torrent
beneath. And, to complete his consternation, at the very instant he
stopped, the little fellow with the lantern made a spring right across
the glen to the opposite side, and there, holding up the light above his
head, turned round and uttered with all his might a loud and most
malicious laugh, upon which he blew out his candle, and disappeared up
the opposite hill."
This spirit is also said to have assisted men in their labours, and
servant girls and servant men often had their arduous burdens lightened
by his willing hands. But he punished those who offended him in a
vindictive manner. The Pwka could hide himself in a jug of barm or in a
ball of yarn, and when he left a place, it was for ever.
In the next chapter I will treat of another phase of legendary lore,
which, although highly imaginative, seems to intimate that the people who
transmitted these tales had some knowledge, though an exaggerated one, of
a people and system which they supplanted.
FAIRY, OR MYTHIC ANIMALS.
From the Myddvai Legend it would appear that the Fairies possessed sheep,
cattle, goats, and horses, and from other tales we see that they had
dogs, etc. Their stock, therefore, was much like that of ordinary
farmers in our days. But Fairy animals, like their owners, have, in the
course of ages, been endowed with supernatural powers. In this chapter
shall be given a short history of these mythical animals.
_Cwn Annwn_, _or Dogs of the Abyss_.
The words _Cwn Annwn_ are variously translated as Dogs of Hell, Dogs of
Elfinland. In some parts of Wales they are called _Cwn Wybir_, Dogs of
the Sky, and in other places _Cwn Bendith Y Mamau_. We have seen that
"_Bendith y Mamau_" is a name given to the Fairies, and in this way these
dogs become Fairy Dogs.
A description of these Fairy dogs is given in _Y Brython_, vol. iii p.
22. Briefly stated it is as follows:--_Cwn Bendith y Mamau_ were a pack
of small hounds, headed by a large dog. Their howl was something
terrible to listen to, and it foretold death. At their approach all
other dogs ceased barking, and fled before them in terror, taking refuge
in their kennels. The birds of the air stopped singing in the groves
when they heard their cry, and even the owl was silent when they were
near. The laugh of the young, and the talk at the fireside were hushed
when the dreadful howl of these Hell hounds was heard, and pale and
trembling with fear the inmates crowded together for mutual protection.
And what was worse than all, these dogs often foretold a death in some
particular family in the neighbourhood where they appeared, and should a
member of this family be in a public-house, or other place of amusement,
his fright would be so great that he could not move, believing that
already had death seized upon some one in his house.
The Fairy dogs howled more at Cross-roads, and such like public places,
than elsewhere. And woe betide any one who stood in their way, for they
bit them, and were likely even to drag a man away with them, and their
bite was often fatal. They collected together in huge numbers in the
churchyard where the person whose death they announced was to be buried,
and, howling around the place that was to be his grave, disappeared on
that very spot, sinking there into the earth, and afterwards they were
not to be seen.
A somewhat different description of _Cwn Annwn_ is given in the
_Cambro-Briton_, vol. i., p. 350. Here we are told that "these terrific
animals are supposed to be devils under the semblance of hunting dogs . .
. and they are usually accompanied by fire in some form or other. Their
appearance is supposed to indicate the death of some friend or relative
of the person to whom they shew themselves. They have never been known
to commit any mischief on the persons of either man or woman, goat,
sheep, or cow, etc."
In Motley's _Tales of the Cymry_, p. 58, that author says:--"I have met
with but a few old people who still cherished a belief in these infernal
hounds which were supposed after death to hunt the souls of the wretched
to their allotted place of torment."
It was, however, once firmly and generally believed, that these awful
creatures could be heard of a wild stormy night in full cry pursuing the
souls of the unbaptized and unshriven. Mr. Chapman, Dolfor, near
Newtown, Montgomeryshire, writes to me thus:--"These mysterious animals
are never seen, only heard. A whole pack were recently heard on the
borders of Radnorshire and Montgomeryshire. They went from the Kerry
hills towards the Llanbadarn road, and a funeral quickly followed the
same route. The sound was similar to that made by a pack of hounds in
full cry, but softer in tone."
The Rev. Edmund Jones, in his work entitled "An Account of Apparitions of
Spirits in the county of Monmouth," says that, "The nearer these dogs are
to a man, the less their voice is, and the farther the louder, and
sometimes, like the voice of a great hound, or like that of a blood
hound, a deep hollow voice." It is needless to say that this gentleman
believed implicitly in the existence of _Cwn Annwn_, and adduces
instances of their appearance.
The following is one of his tales:--
"As Thomas Andrews was coming towards home one night with some
persons with him, he heard, as he thought, the sound of hunting. He
was afraid it was some person hunting the sheep, so he hastened on to
meet, and hinder them; he heard them coming towards him, though he
saw them not. When they came near him, their voices were but small,
but increasing as they went from him; they went down the steep
towards the river _Ebwy_, dividing between this parish and
_Mynyddislwyn_, whereby he knew they were what are called _Cwn wybir_
(Sky dogs), but in the inward part of Wales _Cwn Annwn_ (Dogs of
Hell). I have heard say that these spiritual hunting-dogs have been
heard to pass by the eaves of several houses before the death of
someone in the family. Thomas Andrews was an honest, religious man,
and would not have told an untruth either for fear or for favour."
The colour of these dogs is variously given, as white, with red ears, and
an old man informed Mr. Motley that their colour was blood-red, and that
they always were dripping with gore, and that their eyes and teeth were
of fire. This person confessed that he had never seen these dogs, but
that he described them from what he had heard.--_Tales of the Cymry_, p.
60. There is in _The Cambro-Briton_, vol. ii., p. 271, another and more
natural description of _Cwn Annwn_. It is there stated that Pwyll,
prince of Dyved, went out to hunt, and:--
"He sounded his horn and began to enter upon the chase, following his
dogs and separating from his companions. And, as he was listening to
the cry of his pack, he could distinctly hear the cry of another
pack, different from that of his own, and which was coming in an
opposite direction. He could also discern an opening in the wood
towards a level plain; and as his pack was entering the skirt of the
opening, he perceived a stag before the other pack, and about the
middle of the glade the pack in the rear coming up and throwing the
stag on the ground; upon this be fixed his attention on the colour of
the pack without recollecting to look at the stag; and, of all the
hounds in the world he had ever seen, he never saw any like them in
colour. Their colour was a shining clear white, with red ears; and
the whiteness of the dogs, and the redness of their ears, were
equally conspicuous."
We are informed that these dogs belonged to Arawn, or the silver-tongued
King of Annwn, of the lower or southern regions. In this way these dogs
are identified with the creatures treated of in this chapter. But their
work was less weird than soul-hunting.
A superstition akin to that attached to _Cwn Annwn_ prevails in many
countries, as in Normandy and Bretagne. In Devonshire, the Wish, or
Wisked Hounds, were once believed in, and certain places on Dartmoor were
thought to be their peculiar resort, and it was supposed that they hunted
on certain nights, one of which was always St. John's Eve. These
terrible creations of a cruel mind indicate a phase of faith antagonistic
to, and therefore more ancient than, Christianity.
With another quotation from _Tales of the Cymry_ (p. 61-62), I will
conclude my remarks:--
"In the north of Devon the spectral pack are called Yesh hounds and
Yell hounds. There is another legend, evidently of Christian origin,
which represents them in incessant pursuit of a lost spirit. In the
northern quarter of the moor the Wish hounds, in pursuit of the
spirit of a man who had been well known in the country, entered a
cottage, the door of which had been incautiously left open, and ran
round the kitchen, but quietly, without their usual cry. The Sunday
after the same man appeared in church, and the person whose house the
dogs had entered, made bold by the consecrated place in which they
were, ventured to ask why he had been with the Wish hounds. 'Why
should not my spirit wander,' he replied, 'as well as another man's?'
Another version represents the hounds as following the spirit of a
beautiful woman, changed into the form of a hare; and the reader will
find a similar legend, with some remarkable additions, in the
Disquisitiones Magicae of the Jesuit Delrio, lib. vi., c.2."
The preceding paragraph is from the pen of "R.J.K.," and appears in the
_Athenaeum_, March 27, 1847, Art. Folk-lore.
_The Fairy Cow_.
There are many traditions afloat about a wonderful cow, that supplied
whole neighbourhoods with milk, which ceased when wantonly wasted. In
some parts of England this is called the Dun Cow; in Shropshire she
becomes also the _White Cow_; in Wales she is, _Y Fuwch Frech_, or _Y
Fuwch Gyfeiliorn_. This mystic cow has found a home in many places. One
of these is the wild mountain land between Llanfihangel Glyn Myfyr and a
hamlet called Clawdd Newydd about four miles from Ruthin. About midway
between these two places is a bridge called Pontpetrual, and about half a
mile from the bridge to the north is a small mountain farm called _Cefn
Bannog_, and near this farm, but on the unenclosed mountain, are traces
of primitive abodes, and it was here that, tradition says, the _Fuwch
Frech_ had her home. But I will now give the history of this strange cow
as I heard it from the mouth of Thomas Jones, Cefn Bannog.
_Y Fuwch Frech_. _The Freckled Cow_.
In ages long gone by, my informant knew not how long ago, a wonderful cow
had her pasture land on the hill close to the farm, called Cefn Bannog,
after the mountain ridge so named. It would seem that the cow was
carefully looked after, as indicated by the names of places bearing her
name. The site of the cow house is still pointed out, and retains its
name, _Preseb y Fuwch Frech_--the Crib of the Freckled Cow. Close to
this place are traces of a small enclosure called _Gwal Erw y Fuwch
Frech_, or the Freckled Cow's Meadow. There is what was once a track way
leading from the ruins of the cow house to a spring called _Ffynon y
Fuwch Frech_, or the Freckled Cow's Well, and it was, tradition says, at
this well that the cow quenched her thirst. The well is about 150 yards
from the cow house. Then there is the feeding ground of the cow called,
_Waen Banawg_, which is about half a mile from the cow house. There are
traces of walls several feet thick in these places. The spot is a lonely
one, but ferns and heather flourish luxuriantly all about this ancient
homestead. It is also said that this cow was the mother of the _Ychain
Banawg_, or large-horned oxen. But now to proceed to the tradition that
makes the memory of this cow dear to the inhabitants of the Denbighshire
moorland.
Old people have transmitted from generation to generation the following
strange tale of the Freckled Cow. Whenever any one was in want of milk
they went to this cow, taking with them a vessel into which they milked
the cow, and, however big this vessel was, they always departed with the
pail filled with rich milk, and it made no difference, however often she
was milked, she could never be milked dry. This continued for a long
time, and glad indeed the people were to avail themselves of the
inexhaustible supply of new milk, freely given to them all. At last a
wicked hag, filled with envy at the people's prosperity, determined to
milk the cow dry, and for this purpose she took a riddle with her, and
milked and milked the cow, until at last she could get no more milk from
her. But, sad to say, the cow immediately, upon this treatment, left the
country, and was never more seen. Such is the local history of the
Freckled Cow.
Tradition further states that she went straight to a lake four miles off,
bellowing as she went, and that she was followed by her two children the
_Dau Eidion Banawg_, the two long-horned oxen, to _Llyn dau ychain_, the
Lake of the Two Oxen, in the parish of Cerrig-y-drudion, and that she
entered the lake and the two long-horned oxen, bellowing horribly, went,
one on either side the lake, and with their mother disappeared within its
waters, and none were ever afterwards seen.
Notwithstanding that tradition buries these celebrated cattle in this
lake, I find in a book published by Dr. John Williams, the father of the
Rev. John Williams, M.A., Vicar of Llanwddyn, in the year 1830, on the
"Natural History of Llanrwst," the following statement. The author in
page 17, when speaking of _Gwydir_, says:--
"In the middle court (which was once surrounded by the house), there is a
large bone, which appears to be the rib of some species of whale, but
according to the vulgar opinion, it is the rib of the Dun Cow (_y Fuwch
Frech_), killed by the Earl of Warwick."
It may be stated that Llanrwst is not many miles distant from
Cerrig-y-drudion and yet we have in these places conflicting traditions,
which I will not endeavour to reconcile.
The Shropshire tale of the Fairy Cow is much the same as the preceding.
There she is known as _The White Cow of __Mitchell's Fold_. This place
is situated on the Corndon Hill, a bare moorland in the extreme west of
Shropshire. To this day there is to be seen there a stone circle known
as Mitchell's Fold.
The story of the Shropshire Cow is this. There was a dire famine in
those parts, and the people depended for support on a beautiful white
cow, a Fairy cow, that gave milk to everybody, and it mattered not how
many came, there was always enough for all, and it was to be so, so long
as every one who came only took one pailful. The cow came night and
morning to be milked, and it made no difference what size the vessel was
that was brought by each person, for she always gave enough milk to fill
it, and all the other pails. At last, there came an old witch to
Mitchell's Fold, and in spite and malice she brought a riddle and milked
the cow into it; she milked and milked, and at last she milked her dry,
and after that the cow was never seen. Folk say she was turned into a
stone.
I am indebted to Miss Burne's _Shropshire Folk-Lore_ for the particulars
above given.
A like tale is to be heard in Warwickshire, and also in Lancashire, near
Preston, where the Dun cow gave freely her milk to all in time of
drought, and disappeared on being subjected to the treatment of the Welsh
and Shropshire cow.
Mr. Lloyd, Llanfihangel Glyn Myfyr, gave me a different tale of the _Dau
ychain Banawg_ to that already related. His story is as follows:--
_The Legend of Llyn y ddau ychain_.
The speckled cow had two calves, which, when they grew up, became strong
oxen. In those days there was a wicked spirit that troubled
Cerrig-y-drudion Church, and the people greatly feared this spirit, and
everybody was afraid, even in the day-time, to pass the church, for
there, day after day, they saw the evil one looking out of the church
windows and grinning at them. They did not know what to do to get rid of
this spirit, but at last they consulted a famous conjuror, who told them
that no one could dislodge their enemy but the _Dau ychain Banawg_. They
knew of the two long-horned cattle which fed on Waen Banawg. There,
therefore, they went, and brought the powerful yoke to the church. After
considerable difficulty they succeeded in dislodging the spirit, and in
securing it to a sledge to which these oxen were yoked, and now
struggling to get free, he was dragged along by the powerful oxen towards
a lake on Hiraethog Mountain, but so ponderous was their load and so
fearful was the spirit's contentions that the sledge ploughed the land
between the church and the lake as they went along, leaving in the course
that they took deep furrows, and when they came to the hill so terrible
were the struggles of the oxen to get along that the marks of their hoofs
were left in the rocks where they may still be seen. When at last they
reached the lake the spirit would not yield, and therefore oxen, sledge,
and spirit were driven into the lake, and thus was the country rid of the
evil one, and hence the name of the lake--the Lake of the Two Oxen--for
the oxen likewise perished in the lake.
The foregoing legend is evidently founded on the older and more obscure
story of Hu Gardarn, or Hu the Mighty, who with his _Dau ychain Banawg_
drew to land the _avanc_ out of _Llyn Llion_, so that the lake burst out
no more to deluge the earth. For, be it known, it was this _avanc_ that
had occasioned the flood. However, there is a rival claimant for the
honour of having destroyed the _avanc_, whatever that might have been,
for, in Hindu Mythology, Vishnu is credited with having slain the monster
that had occasioned the Deluge.
This last bit of Folk-lore about Hu Gadarn, which is found in the
_Triads_, shows how widespread, and how very ancient, Welsh tales are.
Hu Gadarn is by some writers identified with Noah. He was endowed, it
would seem, with all the qualities of the gods of the Greeks, Egyptians,
and Orientals, and his name is applied by the Welsh poets of the middle
ages to the Supreme Being.
_Y Fuwch Gyfeiliorn_. _The Stray Cow_.
The history of the Fairy Stray Cow appears in _Y Brython_, vol. iii., pp.
183-4. The writer of the story states that he obtained his materials
from a Paper by the late Dr. Pugh, Penhelyg, Aberdovey. The article
alluded to by Gwilym Droed-ddu, the writer of the account in the
_Brython_, appeared in the _Archaeologia Cambrensis_ for 1853, pp. 201-5.
The tale, as given by Dr. Pugh, is reproduced by Professor Rhys in his
Welsh Fairy Tales, and it is much less embellished in English than in
Welsh. I will quote as much of the Doctor's account as refers to the
Stray Cow.
"A shrewd old hill farmer (Thomas Abergroes by name), well skilled in the
folk-lore of the district, informed me that, in years gone by, though
when, exactly, he was too young to remember, those dames (_Gwragedd
Annwn_) were wont to make their appearance, arrayed in green, in the
neighbourhood of Llyn Barfog, chiefly at eventide, accompanied by their
kine and hounds, and that, on quiet summer nights in particular, these
ban-hounds were often to be heard in full cry, pursuing their prey--the
souls of doomed men dying without baptism and penance--along the upland
township of Cefnrhosucha. Many a farmer had a sight of their comely,
milk-white kine; many a swain had his soul turned to romance and poesy by
a sudden vision of themselves in the guise of damsels arrayed in green,
and radiant in beauty and grace; and many a sportsman had his path
crossed by their white hounds of supernatural fleetness and comeliness,
the _Cwn Annwn_; but never had any one been favoured with more than a
passing view of either, till an old farmer residing at Dyssyrnant, in the
adjoining valley of Dyffryn Gwyn, became at last the lucky captor of one
of their milk-white kine. The acquaintance which the _Gwartheg y Llyn_,
the kine of the lake, had formed with the farmer's cattle, like the loves
of the angels for the daughters of men, became the means of capture; and
the farmer was thereby enabled to add the mystic cow to his own herd, an
event in all cases believed to be most conducive to the worldly
prosperity of him who should make so fortunate an acquisition. Never was
there such a cow, never were there such calves, never such milk and
butter, or cheese; and the fame of the _Fuwch Gyfeiliorn_, the stray cow,
was soon spread abroad through that central part of Wales known as the
district of Rhwng y ddwy Afon, from the banks of the Mawddach to those of
the Dofwy (Dovey)--from Aberdiswnwy to Abercorris. The farmer, from a
small beginning, rapidly became, like Job, a man of substance, possessed
of thriving herds of cattle--a very patriarch among the mountains. But,
alas! wanting Job's restraining grace, his wealth made him proud, his
pride made him forget his obligation to the elfin cow, and fearing she
might soon become too old to be profitable, he fattened her for the
butcher, and then even she did not fail to distinguish herself, for a
more monstrously fat beast was never seen. At last the day of slaughter
came--an eventful day in the annals of a mountain farm--the killing of a
fat cow, and such a monster of obesity. No wonder all the neighbours
were gathered together to see the sight. The old farmer looked upon the
preparations in self-pleased importance; the butcher felt he was about no
common feat of his craft, and, baring his arm, he struck the blow--not
now fatal, for before even a hair had been injured, his arm was
paralysed, the knife dropped from his hand, and the whole company was
electrified by a piercing cry that awakened an echo in a dozen hills, and
made the welkin ring again; and lo and behold! the whole assemblage saw a
female figure, clad in green, with uplifted arms, standing on one of the
rocks overhanging Llyn Barfog, and heard her calling with a voice loud as
thunder:--
'Dere di velen Einion,
Cyrn cyveiliorn--braith y Llyn,
A'r voel Dodin,
Codwch, dewch adre.'
'Come thou Einion's yellow one,
Stray horns--speckled one of the Lake,
And the hornless Dodin,
Arise, come home.'
And no sooner were these words of power uttered, than the original lake
cow, and all her progeny to the third and fourth generations, were in
full flight towards the heights of Llyn Barfog, as if pursued by the evil
one. Self-interest quickly roused the farmer, who followed in pursuit,
till, breathless and panting, he gained an eminence overlooking the lake,
but with no better success than to behold the green-attired dame
leisurely descending mid-lake, accompanied by the fugitive cows, and her
calves formed in a circle around her; they tossed their tails, she waved
her hands in scorn, as much as to say, 'You may catch us, my friend, if
you can,' as they disappeared beneath the dark waters of the lake,
leaving only the yellow water-lily to mark the spot where they vanished,
and to perpetuate the memory of this strange event. Meanwhile, the
farmer looked with rueful countenance upon the spot where the elfin herd
disappeared, and had ample leisure to deplore the effects of his
greediness, as with them also departed the prosperity which had hitherto
attended him, and he became impoverished to a degree below his original
circumstances, and in his altered circumstances few felt pity for one
who, in the noontide flow of prosperity, had shown himself so far
forgetful of favours received, as to purpose slaying his benefactor."
Thus ends Dr. Pugh's account of the Stray Cow.
A tale very much like the preceding is recorded of a Scotch farmer. It
is to be found in vol. ii., pp. 45-6, of Croker's _Fairy Legends of
Ireland_, and is as follows:--
"A farmer who lived near a river had a cow which regularly every year, on
a certain day in May, left the meadow and went slowly along the banks of
the river till she came opposite to a small island overgrown with bushes;
she went into the water and waded or swam towards the island, where she
passed some time, and then returned to her pasture. This continued for
several years; and every year, at the usual season, she produced a calf
which perfectly resembled the elf bull. One afternoon, about Martinmas,
the farmer, when all the corn was got in and measured, was sitting at his
fireside, and the subject of the conversation was, which of the cattle
should be killed for Christmas. He said: 'We'll have the cow; she is
well fed, and has rendered good services in ploughing, and filled the
stalls with fine oxen, now we will pick her old bones.' Scarcely had he
uttered these words when the cow with her young ones rushed through the
walls as if they had been made of paper, went round the dunghill,
bellowed at each of her calves, and then drove them all before her,
according to their age, towards the river, where they got into the water,
reached the island, and vanished among the bushes. They were never more
heard of."
_Ceffyl y Dwfr_. _The Water Horse_.
The superstition respecting the water-horse, in one form or other, is
common to the Celtic race. He was supposed to intimate by preternatural
lights and noises the death of those about to perish by water, and it was
vulgarly believed that he even assisted in drowning his victims. The
water-horse was thought to be an evil spirit, who, assuming the shape of
a horse, tried to allure the unwary to mount him, and then soaring into
the clouds, or rushing over mountain, and water, would suddenly vanish
into air or mist, and precipitate his rider to destruction.
The Welsh water-horse resembles the Kelpie of the Scotch. Jamieson,
under the word _Kelpie_, in his _Scottish Dictionary_, quoting from
various authors, as is his custom, says:--
"This is described as an aquatic demon, who drowns not only men but
ships. The ancient Northern nations believed that he had the form of a
horse; and the same opinion is still held by the vulgar in Iceland.
"Loccenius informs us that in Sweden the vulgar are still afraid of his
power, and that swimmers are on their guard against his attacks; being
persuaded that he suffocates and carries off those whom he catches under
water." "Therefore," adds this writer, "it would seem that ferry-men
warn those who are crossing dangerous places in some rivers not so much
as to mention his name; lest, as they say, they should meet with a storm
and be in danger of losing their lives. Hence, doubtless, has this
superstition originated; that, in these places formerly, during the time
of paganism, those who worshipped their sea-deity _Nekr_, did so, as it
were with a sacred silence, for the reason already given."
The Scotch Kelpie closely resembled the Irish Phoocah, or Poocah, a
mischievous being, who was particularly dreaded on the night of All
Hallow E'en, when it was thought he had especial power; he delighted to
assume the form of a black horse, and should any luckless wight bestride
the fiendish steed, he was carried through brake and mire, over water and
land at a bewildering pace. Woe-betide the timid rider, for the Poocah
made short work of such an one, and soon made him kiss the ground. But
to the bold fearless rider the Poocah submitted willingly, and became his
obedient beast of burden.
The following quotation from the _Tales of the Cymry_, p. 151, which is
itself an extract from Mrs. S. C. Hall's _Ireland_, graphically describes
the Irish water fiend:--
"The great object of the Poocah seems to be to obtain a rider, and
then he is in all his most malignant glory. Headlong he dashes
through briar and brake, through flood and fall, over mountain,
valley, moor, and river indiscriminately; up and down precipice is
alike to him, provided he gratifies the malevolence that seems to
inspire him. He bounds and flies over and beyond them, gratified by
the distress, and utterly reckless and ruthless of the cries, and
danger, and suffering of the luckless wight who bestrides him."
Sometimes the Poocah assumed the form of a goat, an eagle, or of some
other animal, and leaped upon the shoulders of the unwary traveller, and
clung to him, however frantic were the exertions to get rid of the
monster.
Allied to the water-horse were the horses upon which magicians in various
lands were supposed to perform their aerial journeys.
It was believed in Wales that the clergy could, without danger, ride the
water-horse, and the writer has heard a tale of a clergyman, who, when
bestride one of these horses, had compassion on his parish clerk, who was
trudging by his side, and permitted him to mount behind him, on condition
that he should keep silence when upon the horse's back. For awhile the
loquacious parish clerk said no word, but ere long the wondrous pace of
the horse caused him to utter a pious ejaculation, and no sooner were the
words uttered than he was thrown to the ground; his master kept his seat,
and, on parting with the fallen parish official, shouted out, "Serve you
right, why did you not keep your noisy tongue quiet?"
The weird legends and gloomy creations of the Celt assume a mild and
frolicsome feature when interpreted by the Saxon mind. The malevolent
Poocah becomes in England the fun-loving Puck, who delights in playing
his pranks on village maidens, and who says:--
I am that merry wanderer of the night;
Jest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal;
And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab;
And when she drinks against her lips I bob,
And on her withered dew-lap pour the ale.
_Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act I, Sc. I.
The _Ceffyl-y-Dwfr_ was very different to Chaucer's wonderful brass
horse, which could be ridden, without harm, by a sleeping rider:--
This steed of brasse, and easilie and well
Can in the space of a day naturel,
This is to say, in foure and twenty houres,
Where so ye lists, in drought or elles showers,
Baren yours bodie into everie place,
In which your hearte willeth for to pace,
Withouten wemme of you through foul or fair,
Or if you liste to flee as high in th' aire
As doth an eagle when him liste to soare,
This same steed shall bear you evermore,
Withouten harm, till ye be there you leste,
Though that ye sleepen on his back or reste;
And turn againe with writhing of a pinne,
He that it wroughte he coulde many a gin,
He waited many a constellation,
Ere he had done this operation.
_Chaucer's Squire's Tale_, 137-152.
The rider of the magic horse was made acquainted with the charm that
secured its obedience, for otherwise he took an aerial ride at his peril.
This kind of invention is oriental, but it is sufficiently like the
Celtic in outline to indicate that all figments of the kind had
undoubtedly a common origin.
I have seen it somewhere stated, but where I cannot recall to mind, that,
the Water Horses did, in olden times, sport, on the Welsh mountains, with
the puny native ponies, before they became a mixed breed.
It was believed that the initiated could conjure up the River Horse by
shaking a magic bridle over the pool wherein it dwelt.
There is much curious information respecting this mythic animal in the
_Tales of the Cymry_ and from this work I have culled many thoughts.
_The Torrent Spectre_.
This spectre was supposed to be an old man, or malignant spirit, who
directed, and ruled over, the mountain torrents. He delighted in
devastating the lands. His appearance was horrible to behold, and it was
believed that in the midst of the rushing stream his terrible form could
be discerned apparently moving with the torrent, but in reality remaining
stationary. Now he would raise himself half out of the water, and ascend
like a mist half as high as the near mountain, and then he would dwindle
down to the size of a man. His laugh accorded with his savage visage,
and his long hair stood on end, and a mist always surrounded him.
Davies, in his _Mythology of the Druids_, says that believers in this
strange superstition are yet to be met with in Glamorganshire. Davies
was born in the parish of Llanvareth, Radnorshire, in 1756, and died
January 1st, 1831.
_Gwrach y Rhibyn_, _or Hag of the Mist_.
Another supernatural being associated with water was the _Gwrach y
Rhibyn_. She was supposed to reside in the dripping fog, but was seldom,
if ever seen. It was believed that her shriek foretold misfortune, if
not death, to the hearer, and some even thought that, in a shrill tenor,
and lengthened voice, she called the person shortly to die by name.
_Yr Hen Chrwchwd_, or The Old Humpbacked, a fiend in the shape of an old
woman, is thought to be identical with this _Gwrach y Rhibyn_.
In Carmarthenshire the spirit of the mist is represented, not as a
shrivelled up old woman, but as a hoary headed old man, who seats himself
on the hill sides, just where the clouds appear to touch them, and he is
called _Y Brenhin Llwyd_, or The Grey King. I know not what functions
this venerable personage, or king of the mist, performed, unless it were,
that he directed the mist's journey through the air.
_Mermaids and Mermen_.
It is said that these fabulous beings frequented the sea-coasts of Wales
to the great danger of the inhabitants. The description of the Welsh
mermaid was just as it is all over the world; she is depicted as being
above the waist a most lovely young woman, whilst below she is like a
fish with fins and spreading tail. Both mermen and mermaids were fond,
it is said, of combing their long hair, and the siren-like song of the
latter was thought to be so seductive as to entice men to destruction.
It was believed that beautiful mermaids fell in love with comely young
men and even induced them to enter their abodes in the depth of the sea.
I heard the following tale, I believe in Carnarvonshire, but I have no
notes of it, and write from memory.
A man captured a mermaid, and took her home to his house, but she did
nothing but beg and beg to be allowed to return to the sea, but
notwithstanding her entreaties her captor kept her safe enough in a room,
and fastened the door so that she could not escape. She lingered several
days, pitifully beseeching the man to release her, and then she died.
But ever after that event a curse seemed to rest upon the man, for he
went from bad to worse, and died miserably poor.
It was always considered most unlucky to do anything unkind to these
beings. Fear acted as a powerful incentive, in days of old, to generous
conduct. For it was formerly believed that vengeance ever overtook the
cruel.
An Isle of Man legend, related by Waldron, in his account of the Isle of
Man, and reproduced by Croker, vol. i., p. 56, states, that some persons
captured a mermaid, and carried her to a house and treated her tenderly,
but she refused meat and drink, neither would she speak, when addressed,
though they knew these creatures could speak. Seeing that she began to
look ill, and fearing some great calamity would befall the island if she
died, they opened the door, after three days, and she glided swiftly to
the sea side. Her keeper followed at a distance and saw her plunge into
the sea, where she was met by a great number of her own species, one of
whom asked her what she had seen among those on land, to which she
answered, "Nothing, but that they are so ignorant as to throw away the
very water they boil their eggs in."
STORIES OF SATAN, GHOSTS, ETC.
Although Max Muller, in _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. ii., p. 238,
states that "The Aryan nations had no Devil," this certainly cannot at
present be affirmed of that branch of the Celtic race which inhabits
Wales. In the Principality the Devil occupies a prominent position in
the foreground of Welsh Folk-Lore. He is, however, generally depicted as
inferior in cunning and intellect to a bright-witted Welshman, and when
worsted in a contest he acknowledges his inferiority by disappearing in a
ball or wheel of fire. Men, it was supposed, could sell themselves to
the Evil One for a term of years, but they easily managed to elude the
fulfilment of the contract, for there was usually a loop-hole by which
they escaped from the clutches of the stupid Devil. For instance, a man
disposes of his soul for riches, pleasures, and supernatural knowledge
and power, which he is to enjoy for a long number of years, and in the
contract it is stipulated that the agreement holds good if the man is
buried either _in_ or _outside_ the church. To all appearance the victim
is irretrievably lost, but no, after enjoying all the fruits of his
contract, he cheats the Devil of his due, by being buried _in_ or _under_
the church walls.
In many tales Satan is made to act a part detrimental to his own
interests; thus Sabbath breakers, card players, and those who practised
divination, have been frightened almost to death by the appearance of the
Devil, and there and then, being terrified by the horrible aspect of the
enemy, they commenced a new life. This thought comes out strongly in _Y
Bardd Cwsg_. The poet introduces one of the fallen angels as appearing
to act the part given to the Devil, in the play of Faust, when it was
being performed at Shrewsbury, and this appearance drove the frequenters
of the theatre from their pleasures to their prayers. His words are:--
"Dyma walch, ail i hwnw yn y Mwythig, y dydd arall, ar ganol interlud
Doctor Ffaustus; a rhai . . . pan oeddynt brysuraf, ymddangosodd y diawl
ei hun i chwareu ei bart ac wrth hynny gyrodd bawb o'i bleser i'w
weddiau."
In English this is:--"Here's a fine fellow, second to that at Shrewsbury,
who the other day, when the interlude of Doctor Faustus was being acted,
in the middle of the play, all being busily engaged, the devil himself
appeared to take his own part, and by so doing, drove everyone from
pleasure to prayer."
The absurd conduct of the Evil Spirit on this occasion is held up to
ridicule by the poet, but the idea, which is an old one, that demons
were, by a superior power, obliged to frustrate their own designs, does
not seem to have been taken into consideration by him. He depicts the
Devil as a strange mixture of stupidity and remorseless animosity. But
this, undoubtedly, was the then general opinion. The bard revels in
harrowing descriptions of the tortures of the damned in Gehenna--the
abode of the Arch-fiend and his angels. This portion of his work was in
part the offspring of his own fervid imagination; but in part it might
have been suggested to him by what had been written already on the
subject; and from the people amongst whom he lived he could have, and did
derive, materials for these descriptions. In any case he did not
outrage, by any of his horrible depictions of Pandemonium, the sentiments
of his fellow countrymen, and his delineation of Satan was in full accord
with the popular opinion of his days. The bard did not create but gave
utterance to the fleeting thoughts which then prevailed respecting the
Devil. Indeed there does not seem to be in Wales any distinct attributes
ascribed to Satan, which are not also believed to be his specialities in
other countries. His personal appearance is the same in most places. He
is described as being black, with horns, and hoofs and tail, he breathes
fire and brimstone, and he is accompanied with the clank of chains. Such
was the uncouth form which Satan was supposed to assume, and such was the
picture drawn of him formerly in Wales.
There is a strong family likeness in this description between Satan and
_Pan_, who belongs to Greek and Egyptian mythology. Pan had two small
horns on his head, his nose was flat, and his legs, thighs, tail, and
feet were those of a goat. His face is described as ruddy, and he is
said to have possessed many qualities which are also ascribed to Satan.
His votaries were not encumbered with an exalted code of morality.
The _Fauni_, certain deities of Italy, are also represented as having the
legs, feet, and ears of goats, and the rest of the body human, and the
_Satyri_ of the Greeks are also described as having the feet and legs of
goats, with short horns on the head, and the whole body covered with
thick hair. These demigods revelled in riot and lasciviousness. The
satyrs attended upon Bacchus, and made themselves conspicuous in his
orgies. The Romans called their satyrs Fauni, Panes, and Sylvani.
It is difficult to ascertain whether the Celt of Britain obtained through
the Romans their gross notions of the material body of Satan, or whether
it was in later times that they became possessed of this idea. It may
well have been that the Fauni, and other disreputable deities of the
conquerors of the world, on the introduction of Christianity were looked
upon as demons, and their forms consequently became fit representations
of the Spirit of Evil, from whom they differed little, if any, in general
attributes. In this way god after god would be removed from their
pedestals in the world's pantheon, and would be relegated to the regions
occupied by the great enemy of all that is pure, noble, and good in
mankind. Thus the god of one age would become the devil of the
succeeding age, retaining, nevertheless, by a cruel irony, the same form
and qualities in his changed position that he had in his exalted state.
It is by some such reasoning as the preceding that we can account for the
striking personal resemblance between the Satan of mediaeval and later
times and the mythical deities already mentioned.
Reference has been made to the rustic belief that from his mouth Satan
emits fire and brimstone, and here again we observe traces of classic
lore. The fabulous monsters, Typhaeus, or Typhon, and Chimaera, are
probably in this matter his prototypes. It is said that real flames of
devouring fire darted from the mouth and eyes of Typhon, and that he
uttered horrible yells, like the shrieks of different animals, and
Chimaera is described as continually vomiting flames.
Just as the gods of old could assume different shapes, so could Satan.
The tales which follow show that he could change himself at will into the
form of a lovely woman, a mouse, a pig, a black dog, a cock, a fish, a
headless horse, and into other animals or monstrous beings. But the form
which, it is said, he usually assumed to enable him to escape when
discovered in his intrigues was a ball or hoop of fire.
The first series of tales which I shall relate depict Satan as taking a
part in the pastimes of the people.
_Satan Playing Cards_.
A good many years ago I travelled from Pentrevoelas to Yspytty in company
with Mr. Lloyd, the then vicar of the latter parish, who, when crossing
over a bridge that spanned a foaming mountain torrent, called my
attention to the spot, and related to me the following tale connected
with the place:--
A man was returning home late one night from a friend's house, where he
had spent the evening in card playing, and as he was walking along he was
joined by a gentleman, whose conversation was very interesting. At last
they commenced talking about card playing, and the stranger invited the
countryman to try his skill with him, but as it was late, and the man
wanted to go home, he declined, but when they were on the bridge his
companion again pressed him to have a game on the parapet, and proceeded
to take out of his pocket a pack of cards, and at once commenced dealing
them out; consequently, the man could not now refuse to comply with the
request. With varying success game after game was played, but ultimately
the stranger proved himself the more skilful player. Just at this
juncture a card fell into the water; and in their excitement both players
looked over the bridge after it, and the countryman saw to his horror
that his opponent's head, reflected in the water, had on it _two horns_.
He immediately turned round to have a careful look at his companion; he,
however, did not see him, but in his place was a _ball of fire_, which
flashed away from his sight.
I must say that when I looked over the bridge I came to the conclusion
that nothing could have been reflected in the water, for it was a rushing
foaming torrent, with no single placid spot upon its surface.
Another version of the preceding tale I obtained from the Rev. Owen
Jones. In this instance the _cloven foot_ and not the _horned head_ was
detected. The scene of this tale is laid in the parish of Rhuddlan near
Rhyl.
_Satan Playing Cards at a Merry Meeting_.
It was formerly a general custom in Wales for young lads and lasses to
meet and spend a pleasant evening together in various farmhouses. Many
kinds of amusements, such as dancing, singing, and card playing, were
resorted to, to while away the time. The Rev. Owen Jones informed me
that once upon a time a merry party met at Henafon near Rhuddlan, and
when the fun was at its height a gentleman came to the farm, and joined
heartily in all the merriment. By and by, card playing was introduced,
and the stranger played better than any present. At last a card fell to
the ground, and the party who picked it up discovered that the clever
player had a cloven foot. In his fright the man screamed out, and
immediately the Evil One--for he it was that had joined the
party--transformed himself into a wheel of fire, and disappeared up the
chimney.
For the next tale I am also indebted to my friend the Rev. Owen Jones.
The story appears in a Welsh MS. in his possession, which he kindly lent
me. I will, first of all, give the tale in the vernacular, and then I
will, for the benefit of my English readers, supply an English
translation.
_Satan Playing Cards on Rhyd-y-Cae Bridge_, _Pentrevoelas_.
"Gwas yn y Gilar a phen campwr ei oes am chwareu cardiau oedd Robert
Llwyd Hari. Ond wrth fyn'd adre' o Rhydlydan, wedi bod yn chwareu yn nhy
Modryb Ann y Green, ar ben y lou groes, daeth boneddwr i'w gyfarfod, ag
aeth yn ymgom rhyngddynt. Gofynodd y boneddwr iddo chware' _match_ o
gardiau gydag e. 'Nid oes genyf gardian,' meddai Bob. 'Oes, y mae genyt
ddau ddec yn dy bocet,' meddai'r boneddwr. Ag fe gytunwyd i chware'
_match_ ar Bont Rhyd-y-Cae, gan ei bod yn oleu lleuad braf. Bu y
boneddwr yn daer iawn arno dd'od i Blas Iolyn, y caent ddigon o oleu yno,
er nad oedd neb yn byw yno ar y pryd. Ond nacaodd yn lan. Aed ati o
ddifrif ar y bont, R. Ll. yn curo bob tro. Ond syrthiodd cardyn dros y
bont, ac fe edrychodd yntau i lawr. Beth welai and carnau ceffyl gan y
boneddwr. Tyngodd ar y Mawredd na chwareuai ddim chwaneg; ar hyn fe aeth
ei bartner yn olwyn o dan rhyngddo a Phlas Iolyn, ac aeth yntau adre' i'r
Gilar." The English of the tale is as follows:--
Robert Llwyd Hari was a servant in Gilar farm, and the champion card
player of his day. When going home from Rhydlydan, after a game of cards
in Aunty Ann's house, called the Green, he was met at the end of the
cross-lane by a gentleman, who entered into conversation with him. The
gentleman asked him to have a game of cards. "I have no cards," answered
Bob. "Yes you have, you have two packs in your pocket," answered the
gentleman. They settled to play a game on the bridge of Rhyd-y-Cae, as
it was a beautiful moonlight night. The gentleman was very pressing that
they should go to Plas Iolyn, because they would find there, he said,
plenty of light, although no one was then living at the place. But Bob
positively refused to go there. They commenced the game in downright
good earnest on the bridge, R. Ll. winning every game. But a card fell
over the bridge into the water, and Bob looked over, and saw that the
gentleman had hoofs like a horse. He swore by the Great Being that he
would not play any longer, and on this his partner turned himself into a
_wheel of fire_, and departed bowling towards Plas Iolyn, and Bob went
home to Gilar.
_Satan Snatching a Man up into the Air_.
It would appear that poor Bob was doomed to a sad end. His last exploit
is thus given:--
"Wrth fyned adre o chware cardia, ar Bont Maesgwyn gwelai Robert Llwyd
Hari gylch crwn o dan; bu agos iddo droi yn ol, cymerodd galon eilwaith
gan gofio fod ganddo Feibl yn ei boced, ac i ffordd ag e rhyngddo a'r
tan, a phan oedd yn passio fe'i cipiwyd i fyny i'r awyr gan y Gwr Drwg,
ond gallodd ddyweyd rhiw air wrth y D---, gollyngodd ef i lawr nes ydoedd
yn disgyn yn farw mewn llyn a elwir Llyn Hari."
Which in English is as follows:--
When going home from playing cards, on Maesgwyn Bridge Robert Llwyd Hari
saw a hoop of fire; he was half inclined to turn back, but took heart,
remembering that he had a Bible in his pocket. So on he went, and when
passing the fire he was snatched up into the air by the Bad Man, but he
was able to utter a certain word to the D---, he was dropped down, and
fell dead into a lake called Harry's Lake.
Many tales, varying slightly from the preceding three stories, are still
extant in Wales, but these given are so typical of all the rest that it
is unnecessary to record more.
It may be remarked that card playing was looked upon in the last
century--and the feeling has not by any means disappeared in our days--as
a deadly sin, and consequently a work pleasing to the Evil One, but it
appears singular that the aid of Satan himself should have been invoked
to put down a practice calculated to further his own interests. The
incongruity of such a proceeding did not apparently enter into the minds
of those who gave currency to these unequal contests. But in the tales
we detect the existence of a tradition that Satan formerly joined in the
pastimes of the people, and, if for card playing some other game were
substituted, such as dancing, we should have a reproduction of those
fabulous times, when satyrs and demigods and other prototypes of Satan
are said to have been upon familiar terms with mortals, and joined in
their sports.
The reader will have noticed that the poor man who lost his life in the
Lake thought himself safe because he had a Bible in his pocket. This
shows that the Bible was looked upon as a talisman. But in this instance
its efficacy was only partial. I shall have more to say on this subject
in another part of this work.
Satan in the preceding tales, and others, which shall by and by be
related, is represented as transforming himself into a ball, or wheel of
fire--into fire, the emblem of an old religion, a religion which has its
votaries in certain parts of the world even in this century, and which,
at one period in the history of the human race, was widespread. It is
very suggestive that Satan should be spoken of as assuming the form of
the Fire God, when his personality is detected, and the hint, conveyed by
this transformation, would imply that he was himself the Fire God.
Having made these few comments on the preceding tales, I will now record
a few stories in which Satan is made to take a role similar to that
ascribed to him in the card-playing stories.
In the following tales Satan's aid is invoked to bring about a
reformation in the observance of the Sabbath day.
_Satan frightening a Man for gathering Nuts on Sunday_.
The following tale was related to me by the Rev. W. E. Jones, rector of
Bylchau, near Denbigh:--
Richard Roberts, Coederaill, Bylchau, when a young man, worked in
Flintshire, and instead of going to a place of worship on Sunday he got
into the habit of wandering about the fields on that day. One fine
autumn Sunday he determined to go a-nutting. He came to a wood where
nuts were plentiful, and in a short time he filled his pockets with nuts,
but perceiving a bush loaded with nuts, he put out his hand to draw the
branch to him, when he observed a hairy hand stretching towards the same
branch. As soon as he saw this hand he was terribly frightened, and
without turning round to see anything further of it, he took to his
heels, and never afterwards did he venture to go a-nutting on Sunday.
Richard Roberts told the tale to Mr. Jones, his Rector, who tried to
convince Roberts that a monkey was in the bush, but he affirmed that
Satan had come to him.
_Satan taking possession of a man who fished on Sunday_.
The following tale is in its main features still current in Cynwyd, a
village about two miles from Corwen. The first reference to the story
that I am acquainted with appeared in an essay sent in to a local
Eisteddfod in 1863. The story is thus related in this essay:--
"About half a mile from Cynwyd is the 'Mill Waterfall,' beneath which
there is a deep linn or whirlpool, where a man, who was fishing there on
Sunday, once found an enormous fish. 'I will catch him, though the D---l
take me,' said the presumptuous man. The fish went under the fall, the
man followed him, and was never afterwards seen." Such is the tale, but
it is, or was believed, that Satan had changed himself into a fish, and
by allurement got the man into his power and carried him bodily to the
nethermost regions.
_Satan appearing in many forms to a Man who Travelled on Sunday_.
I received the following tale from my deceased friend, the Rev. J. L.
Davies, late Rector of Llangynog, near Llanfyllin, Montgomeryshire, and
he obtained it from William Davies, the man who figures in the story.
As a preface to the tale, it should be stated that it was usual, some
years ago, for Welsh labourers to proceed to the harvest in England,
which was earlier there than in Wales, and after that was finished, they
hastened homewards to be in time for their own harvest. These migratory
Welsh harvestmen are not altogether extinct in our days, but about forty
years ago they were much more common than they are at present. Then
respectable farmers' sons with sickles on their backs, and well filled
wallets over their shoulders, went in companies to the early English
Lowlands to hire themselves as harvest labourers. My tale now
commences:--
William Davies, Penrhiw, near Aberystwyth, went to England for the
harvest, and after having worked there about three weeks, he returned
home alone, with all possible haste, as he knew that his father-in-law's
fields were by this time ripe for the sickle. He, however, failed to
accomplish the journey before Sunday; but he determined to travel on
Sunday, and thus reach home on Sunday night to be ready to commence
reaping on Monday morning. His conscience, though, would not allow him
to be at rest, but he endeavoured to silence its twittings by saying to
himself that he had with him no clothes to go to a place of worship. He
stealthily, therefore, walked on, feeling very guilty every step he took,
and dreading to meet anyone going to chapel or church. By Sunday evening
he had reached the hill overlooking Llanfihangel Creuddyn, where he was
known, so he determined not to enter the village until after the people
had gone to their respective places of worship; he therefore sat down on
the hill side and contemplated the scene below. He saw the people leave
their houses for the house of God, he heard their songs of praise, and
now he thinks he could venture to descend and pass through the village
unobserved. Luckily no one saw him going through the village, and now he
has entered a barley field, and although still uneasy in mind, he feels
somewhat reassured, and steps on quickly. He had not proceeded far in
the barley field before he found himself surrounded by a large number of
small pigs. He was not much struck by this, though he thought it strange
that so many pigs should be allowed to wander about on the Sabbath day.
The pigs, however, came up to him, stared at him, grunted, and scampered
away. Before he had traversed the barley field he saw approaching him an
innumerable number of mice, and these, too, surrounded him, only,
however, to stare at him, and then to disappear. By this Davies began to
be frightened, and he was almost sorry that he had broken the Sabbath day
by travelling with his pack on his back instead of keeping the day holy.
He was not now very far from home, and this thought gave him courage and
on he went. He had not proceeded any great distance from the spot where
the mice had appeared when he saw a large greyhound walking before him on
the pathway. He anxiously watched the dog, but suddenly it vanished out
of his sight. By this the poor man was thoroughly frightened, and many
and truly sincere were his regrets that he had broken the Sabbath; but on
he went. He passed through the village of Llanilar without any further
fright. He had now gone about three miles from Llanfihangel along the
road that goes to Aberystwyth, and he had begun to dispel the fear that
had seized him, but to his horror he saw something approach him that made
his hair stand on end. He could not at first make it out, but he soon
clearly saw that it was a horse that was madly dashing towards him. He
had only just time to step on to the ditch, when, horrible to relate, a
headless white horse rushed past him. His limbs shook and the
perspiration stood out like beads on his forehead. This terrible spectre
he saw when close to Tan'rallt, but he dared not turn into the house, as
he was travelling on Sunday, so on he went again, and heartily did he
wish himself at home. In fear and dread he proceeded on his journey
towards Penrhiw. The most direct way from Tan'rallt to Penrhiw was a
pathway through the fields, and Davies took this pathway, and now he was
in sight of his home, and he hastened towards the boundary fence between
Tan'rallt and Penrhiw. He knew that there was a gap in the hedge that he
could get through, and for this gap he aimed; he reached it, but further
progress was impossible, for in the gap was a lady lying at full length,
and immovable, and stopping up the gap entirely. Poor Davies was now
more thoroughly terrified than ever. He sprang aside, he screamed, and
then he fainted right away. As soon as he recovered consciousness, he,
on his knees, and in a loud supplicating voice, prayed for pardon. His
mother and father-in-law heard him, and the mother knew the voice and
said, "It is my Will; some mishap has overtaken him." They went to him
and found he was so weak that he could not move, and they were obliged to
carry him home, where he recounted to them his marvellous experience.
My clerical friend, who was intimately acquainted with William Davies,
had many conversations with him about his Sunday journey, and he argued
the matter with him, and tried to persuade him that he had seen nothing,
but that it was his imagination working on a nervous temperament that had
created all his fantasies. He however failed to convince him, for Davies
affirmed that it was no hallucination, but that what he had seen that
Sunday was a punishment for his having broken the Fourth Commandment. It
need hardly be added that Davies ever afterwards was a strict observer of
the Day of Rest.
The following tale, taken from _A Relation of Apparitions_, etc., by the
Rev. Edmund Jones, inculcates the same lesson as that taught by the
previous tales. I will give the tale a title.
_The Evil Spirit appearing to a Man who frequented Alehouses on Sunday_.
Jones writes as follows:--"W. J. was once a Sabbath-breaker at _Risca_
village, where he frequently used to play and visit the alehouses on the
Sabbath day, and there stay till late at night. On returning homeward he
heard something walking behind him, and turning to see what it was he
could see the likeness of a man walking by his side; he could not see his
face, and was afraid to look much at it, fearing it was an evil spirit,
as it really was, therefore he did not wish it good night. This dreadful
dangerous apparition generally walked by the left side of him. It
afterwards appeared like a great mastiff dog, which terrified him so much
that he knew not where he was. After it had gone about half a mile, it
transformed itself into a great fire, as large as a small field, and
resembled the noise which a fire makes in burning gorse."
This vision seems to have had the desired effect on W. J. for we are told
that he _was once_ a Sabbath breaker, the inference being, that he was
not one when the Rev. Edmund Jones wrote the above narrative.
Tales of this kind could be multiplied to almost any extent, but more
need not be given. The one idea that runs through them all is that Satan
has appeared, and may appear again, to Sabbath breakers, and therefore
those who wish to avoid coming in contact with him should keep the
Sabbath day holy.
_Satan Outwitted_.
In the preceding tales the Evil One is depicted as an agent in the
destruction of his own kingdom. He thus shows his obtuseness, or his
subordination to a higher power. In the story that follows, he is
outwitted by a Welshman. Many variants of this tale are found in many
countries. It is evident from this and like stories, that it was
believed the Spirit of Evil could easily be circumvented by an
intelligent human being.
The tale is taken from _Y Brython_, vol. v., p. 192. I when a lad often
heard the story related, and the scene is laid in Trefeglwys,
Montgomeryshire, a parish only a few miles distant from the place where I
spent my childhood. The writer in _Y Brython_, speaking of _Ffinant_,
says that this farm is about a mile from Trefeglwys, on the north side of
the road leading to Newtown. He then proceeds as follows:--
"Mae hen draddodiad tra anhygoel yn perthyn i'r lie hwn. Dywedir fod hen
ysgubor yn sefyll yn yr ochr ddeheuol i'r brif-ffordd. Un boreu Sul, pan
ydoedd y meistr yn cychwyn i'r Eglwys, dywedodd wrth un o'i weision am
gadw y brain oddi ar y maes lle yr oedd gwenith wedi ei hau, yn yr hwn y
safai yr hen ysgubor. Y gwas, trwy ryw foddion, a gasglodd y brain oll
iddi, a chauodd arnynt; yna dilynodd ei feistr i'r Eglwys; yntau, wrth ei
weled yno, a ddechreuodd ei geryddu yn llym. Y meistr, wedi clywed y
fath newydd, a hwyliodd ei gamrau tua'i gartref; ac efe a'u cafodd, er ei
syndod, fel y crybwyllwyd; ac fe ddywedir fod yr ysgubor yn orlawn o
honynt. Gelwir y maes hwn yn _Crow-barn_, neu Ysgubor y brain, hyd
heddyw. Dywedir mai enw y gwas oedd Dafydd Hiraddug, ac iddo werthu ei
hun i'r diafol, ac oherwydd hyny, ei fod yn alluog i gyflawni
gweithredoedd anhygoel yn yr oes hon. Pa fodd bynag, dywedir i Dafydd
fod yn gyfrwysach na'r hen sarff y tro hwn, yn ol y cytundeb fu
rhyngddynt. Yr ammod oedd, fod i'r diafol gael meddiant hollol o
Ddafydd, os dygid ei gorff dros erchwyn gwely, neu trwy ddrws, neu os
cleddid ef mewn mynwent, neu mewn Eglwys. Yr oedd Dafydd wedi gorchymyn,
pan y byddai farw, am gymmeryd yr afu a'r ysgyfaint o'i gorff, a'i taflu
i ben tomen, a dal sylw pa un ai cigfran ai colomen fyddai yn ennill
buddugoliaeth am danynt; os cigfran, am gymmeryd ei gorff allan trwy
waelod ac nid dros erchwyn y gwely; a thrwy bared ac nid trwy ddrws, a'i
gladdu, nid mewn mynwent na llan, ond o dan fur yr Eglwys; ac i'r diafol
pan ddeallodd hyn lefaru, gan ddywedyd:--
Dafydd Hiraddug ei ryw,
_Ffals_ yn farw, _ffals_ yn fyw."
The tale in English is as follows:--
There is an incredible tradition connected with this place Ffinant,
Trefeglwys. It is said that an old barn stands on the right hand side of
the highway. One Sunday morning, as the master was starting to church,
he told one of the servants to keep the crows from a field that had been
sown with wheat, in which field the old barn stood. The servant, through
some means, collected all the crows into the barn, and shut the door on
them. He then followed his master to the Church, who, when he saw the
servant there, began to reprove him sharply. But the master, when he
heard the strange news, turned his steps homewards, and found to his
amazement that the tale was true, and it is said that the barn was filled
with crows. This barn, ever afterwards was called _Crow-barn_, a name it
still retains.
It is said that the servant's name was Dafydd Hiraddug, and that he had
sold himself to the devil, and that consequently, he was able to perform
feats, which in this age are considered incredible. However, it is said
that Dafydd was on this occasion more subtle than the old serpent, even
according to the agreement which was between them. The contract was,
that the devil was to have complete possession of Dafydd if his corpse
were taken over the side of the bed, or through a door, or if buried in a
churchyard, or inside a church. Dafydd had commanded, that on his death,
the liver and lights were to be taken out of his body and thrown on the
dunghill, and notice was to be taken whether a raven or a dove got
possession of them; if a raven, then his body was to be taken away by the
foot, and not by the side of the bed, and through the wall, and not
through the door, and he was to be buried, not in the churchyard nor in
the Church, but under the Church walls. And the devil, when he saw that
by these arrangements he had been duped cried, saying:--
Dafydd Hiraddug, badly bred,
False when living, and false when dead.
Such is the tale. I now come to another series of Folk-Lore stories,
which seem to imply that in ancient days rival religions savagely
contended for the supremacy, and in these tales also Satan occupies a
prominent position.
_Satan and Churches_.
The traditional stories that are still extant respecting the determined
opposition to the erection of certain churches in particular spots, and
the removal of the materials during the night to some other site, where
ultimately the new edifice was obliged to be erected, and the many
stories of haunted churches, where evil spirits had made a lodgment, and
could not for ages be ousted, are evidences of the antagonism of rival
forms of paganism, or of the opposition of an ancient religion to the new
and intruding Christian Faith.
Brash in his _Ogam Inscribed Stones_, p. 109, speaking of Irish Churches,
says:--
"It is well known that many of our early churches were erected on sites
professedly pagan."
The most ancient churches in Wales have circular or ovoidal
churchyards--a form essentially Celtic--and it may well be that these
sacred spots were dedicated to religious purposes in pagan times, and
were appropriated by the early Christians,--not, perhaps, without
opposition on the part of the adherents of the old faith--and consecrated
to the use of the Christian religion. In these churchyards were often to
be found holy, or sacred wells, and many of them still exist, and modes
of divination were practised at these wells, which have come down to our
days, and which must have originated in pre-Christian or pagan times.
It is highly probable that the older faith would for a while exist
concurrently with the new, and mutual contempt and annoyance on the part
of the supporters of the respective beliefs would as naturally follow in
those times as in any succeeding age, but this fact should be
emphasised--that the modes of warfare would correspond with the civilized
or uncivilized state of the opponents. This remark is general in its
application, and applies to races conquered by the Celts in Britain,
quite as much as to races who conquered the Celt, and there are not
wanting certain indications that the tales associated with Satan belong
to a period long anterior to the introduction of Christianity. Certain
classes of these tales undoubtedly refer to the antagonism of beliefs
more ancient than the Christian faith, and they indicate the measures
taken by one party to suppress the other. Thus we see it related that
the Evil Spirit is forcibly ejected from churches, and dragged to the
river, and there a tragedy occurs. In other words a horrible murder is
committed on the representative of the defeated religion. The very fact
that he loses his life in a river--in water--in an object of wide spread
worship--is not without its significance.
We have seen in the legend of the Evil Spirit in Cerrig-y-drudion Church,
p. 133,--that it was ejected, after a severe struggle, from the sacred
building--that it was dragged to the lake, where it lost its life, by two
_Ychain Banawg_--that they, and it, perished together in the lake:--Now
these _Ychain Banawg_ or long-horned oxen, huge in size and strong of
limb, are traditional, if not fabulous animals, and this one incident in
the legend is enough to prove its great antiquity. Undoubtedly it dates
from remote pre-Christian times, and yet the tale is associated with
modern ideas, and modes of expression. It has come down to us along the
tide of time, and has received its colouring from the ages it has passed
through. Yet on the very surface of this ancient legend we perceive it
written that in days of old there was severe antagonism between rival
forms of pagan faith, and the manner in which the weaker--and perhaps the
more ancient--is overcome, is made clear. The instrument used is brute
force, and the vanquished party is _drowned_ or, in the euphonious
language of the tales, _is laid_.
There are many stories of spirits that have been cast out of churches,
still extant in Wales, and one of the most famous of these is that of
Llanfor Church, near Bala. It resembles that of Cerrig-y-drudion. I
have succeeded in obtaining several versions of this legend. I am
indebted for the first to Mr. R. Roberts, Clocaenog, a native of Bala.
_The Ejectment of the Evil Spirit from Llanfor Church_.
Mr. Roberts states that his grandmother, born in 1744, had only
traditions of this spirit. He was said to have worn a three-cocked hat,
and appeared as a gentleman, and whilst divine service was performed he
stood up in the church. But at night the church was lit up by his
presence, and the staves between the railings of the gallery were set in
motion, by him, like so many spindles, although they were fast in their
sockets. He is not reported to have harmed any one, neither did he
commit any damage in the church. It is said, he had been seen taking a
walk to the top of _Moel-y-llan_, and although harmless he was a great
terror to the neighbourhood, and but few would venture to enter the
church alone. Mr. Roberts was told that on a certain occasion a vestry
was held in a public house, that stood on the north side of the church,
not a vestige of which now remains, but no one would go to the church for
the parish books. The landlady had the courage to go but no sooner had
she crossed the threshold than the Evil Spirit blew the light out; she
got a light again, but this also was blown out. Instead of returning for
another light, she went straight to the coffer in the dark, and brought
the books to the house, and that without any molestation.
Mr. Roberts states that as the Spirit of darkness became more and more
troublesome, it was determined to have him removed, and two gentlemen
skilled in divination were called _to offer him to Llyn-y-Geulan-Goch_.
These men were procured and they entered the church in the afternoon and
held a conversation with the Spirit, and in the end told him that they
would call at such an hour of the night to remove him to his rest. But
they were not punctual and when they entered they found him intractable,
however, he was compelled to submit, and was driven out of the church in
the form of a cock, and carried behind his vanquisher on horseback, and
thrown into _Llyn-y-Geulan-Goch_.
According to tradition the horse made the journey from the church to the
pool by two leaps. The distance was two fields' breadth.
On their arrival at the river side, a terrible struggle ensued, the Fiend
would not submit to be imprisoned, and he made a most determined attempt
to drag his captors into the water. He, however, by and by, agreed to
enter his prison on the condition that they would lie on their faces
towards the ground when he entered the river, this they did, and the
Spirit with a splash jumped into the water.
Mr. Roberts further states, that there was a tradition in those parts,
that the horse which carried the Devil to the river left the impression
of his hoof in a stone by the river side, but Mr. Roberts assures me that
he could never discover this stone, nor did he know of any one who had
seen it.
The case of the imprisoned Spirit was not hopeless--tradition says he was
to remain in the pool only until he counted all the sand in it. It would
almost appear that he had accomplished his task, for Mr. Roberts says
that he had heard that his father's eldest brother whilst driving his
team in the dead of night through Llanfor village saw two pigs walking
behind the waggon. He thought nothing of this, and began to apply his
whip to them, but to no purpose, for they followed him to
_Llyn-y-Geulan-Goch_, and then disappeared.
There was in these latter times some dispute as to the Spirit being still
in the pool. This, however, has been settled in the affirmative. A wise
man, in company with others, proceeded to the river, and threw a stone
with writing on it into the pool, but nothing came of it, and he then
affirmed there was no spirit there. This the people would not believe,
so he threw another stone into the water, and now the river boiled up and
foamed. "Yes," said the sceptic, "he is there, and there he will remain
for a long time."
Such is Mr. Roberts's account.
_Llyn-y-Geulan-Goch_ is a pool in the river Dee, about a quarter of a
mile from Llanfor village.
For the purpose of shewing how variously tales are narrated, I will give
another version of this haunted church, which was taken down by me from
the mouth of an aged woman, a native of the village, whose life had been
spent among her own people, and who at present lives in a little cottage
on the road side between Llanfor Rectory and Bala. Her name is Ann
Hughes, she firmly believes the story, but she could not tell how long
ago the spirit was driven out of the church, though she thought it was in
her grandfather's days. Her tale was as follows:--
The Evil Spirit was heard but not seen by the people, and he was in the
habit of coming down the pathway leading from Rhiwlas to the church,
making a great noise, as if dragging after him chains, or wheeling a
wheelbarrow, and he went straight into the church, and there he stayed
all night lighting up the church and making a great noise, as though
engaged in manual labour. There was then a pathway leading to a row of
houses situated in the church yard on the north side, and the people who
occupied those cottages dared not leave them the live-long night, in fact
the whole village avoided that, and every other path in the neighbourhood
of the church, whilst the Spirit was in the church, and every one could
see when he was there. At last the disturbance was so great that the
parson and another man determined to lay the Spirit, and therefore one
night they walked three times round the church, and then went into it,
and by and by three men were seen emerging from the church and they
walked into the public house through the door that opened into the church
yard and they went together into the little parlour. The parson had
already given instructions that no one was to come to them on any
account, nor even to try to get a glimpse of them; but there was a man in
the house who went to the keyhole of the parlour and, looking into the
room, saw distinctly three men sitting round the table. No sooner,
however, had he done so than the parson came out and said if anyone
looked through the keyhole again their plans would be frustrated. This
put a stop to all further inquisitiveness, and their deliberations were
not again interrupted.
Ann Hughes could not tell me what plan was adopted to get rid of the Evil
Spirit, but she knew this much, that he was laid in _Llyn-y-Geulan-Goch_,
and that he was to remain there until a lighted candle, which was hidden
somewhere in the church, when the Spirit was overcome, should go out.
Often and again had she searched for this taper, but failed to discover
it, but she supposes it is still burning somewhere, for the Evil One has
not yet escaped from the pool.
There is a version of the ejectment of Llanfor Spirit given in _Y
Gordofigion_, p. 106, which is somewhat as follows:--
Llanfor Spirit troubled the neighbourhood of Bala, but he was
particularly objectionable and annoying to the inhabitants of Llanfor,
for he had taken possession of their Church. At last, the people were
determined to get rid of him altogether, but they must procure a mare for
this purpose, which they did. A man riding on the mare entered the
Church with a friend, to exorcise the Spirit. Ere long this man emerged
from the Church with the Devil seated behind him on the pillion. An old
woman who saw them cried out, "Duw anwyl! Mochyn yn yr Eglwys"--"Good
God! A pig in the Church." On hearing these words the pig became
exceedingly fierce, because the silence had been broken, and because
God's name had been used, and in his anger he snatched up both the man
and the mare, and threw them right over the Church to the other side, and
there is a mark to this day on a grave stone of the horse's hoof on the
spot where she lit. But the Spirit's anger was all in vain, for he was
carried by the mare to the river, and laid in _Llyn-y-Geulan-Goch_, but
so much did the poor animal perspire whilst carrying him, that, although
the distance was only a quarter of a mile, she lost all her hair.
Tales very much like the preceding are related of many churches in Wales.
The details differ, but in general outlines they are alike. I will give
one other story of this kind.
_An Evil Spirit in Llandysilio Church, Montgomeryshire_.
The history of this Spirit's proceedings is given in _Bye-Gones_, Vol.
ii, p. 179, and the writer's fictitious name is _Gypt_.
"This church," says _Gypt_, "was terribly troubled by a Spirit in times
gone by, so I was informed by a person who took me over the church, and,
being curious to hear the story, my guide related the following:--
"To such extremes had things come that it was resolved to send for a well
known and expert person to lay the Spirit. But the Spirit nearly
overcame the expert, and the fight continued hard and fast for a long
time. The ghost layer came out often for fresh air and beer, and then
was plainly seen, from his bared arms and the perspiration running down
his face, that there was a terrible conflict going on within the church.
At last success crowned the effort, and the Spirit, not unlike a large
fly, was put into a bottle and thrown into a deep pool in the River
Verniew, where it remains to this day, and the church was troubled no
more."
_Gypt_ adds:--"As a proof of the truth of the story, my informant showed
me the beams which were cracked at the time the Spirit troubled the
church."
In these tales we have a few facts common to them all. An Evil Spirit
troubles the people, and makes his home nightly in the church, which he
illuminates. His presence there becomes obnoxious, and ultimately,
either by force or trickery, he is ejected, and loses his life, or at
least he is deposited by his captors in a lake, or pool of water, and
then peace and quietness ensue.
There is a good deal that is human about these stories when stripped of
the marvellous, which surrounds them, and it is not unreasonable to ask
whether they had, or had not, a foundation in fact, or whether they were
solely the creations of an imaginative people. It is not, at least,
improbable that these ghostly stories had, in long distant pre-historic
times, their origin in fact, and that they have reached our days with
glosses received from the intervening ages.
They seem to imply that, in ancient times, there was deadly antagonism
between one form of Pagan worship and another, and, although it is but
dimly hinted, it would appear that fire was the emblem or the god of one
party, and water the god of the other; and that the water worshippers
prevailed and destroyed the image, or _laid_ the priest, of the
vanquished deity in a pool, and took possession of his sacred enclosures.
It was commonly believed, within the last hundred years or so, that Evil
Spirits at certain times of the year, such as St. John's Eve, and May Day
Eve, and All Hallows' Eve, were let loose, and that on these nights they
held high revelry in churches. This is but another and more modern phase
of the preceding stories. This superstitious belief was common to
Scotland, and everyone who has read Burns has heard of Alloway Kirk, and
of the "unco sight" which met _Tam o' Shanter's_ eye there, who, looking
into the haunted kirk, saw witches, Evil Spirits, and Old Nick himself.
Thus sings the poet:--
There sat auld Nick, in shape o' beast;
A towzie tyke, black, grim, and large,
To gi'e them music was his charge.
But in Wales it was believed that a Spirit--an evil one--certainly not an
Angel of Light, revealed, to the inquisitive, coming events, provided
they went to the church porch on _Nos G'lan Geua_', or All-Hallows' Eve,
and waited there until midnight, when they would hear the Spirit announce
the death roll for the coming year. Should, however, no voice be heard,
it was a sign that no death would occur within the twelve succeeding
months. A couple of tales shall suffice as illustrative of this
superstition.
_A Spirit in Aberhafesp Church announcing the death of a person on Nos
G'lan Geua'_.
Mr. Breeze, late governor of the Union House at Caersws, told me that he
had heard of a person going to Aberhafesp Church porch, on All-Hallows'
Eve, to ascertain whether there would be a death in that parish in the
coming year.
A couple of men, one of whom, I believe, Mr. Breeze said was his
relative, went to the church porch before twelve o'clock at night, and
sat there a length of time without hearing any sound in the church; but
about the midnight hour, one of the men distinctly heard the name of his
companion uttered by a voice within the church. He was greatly
terrified, and, addressing his friend, he found that he had fallen
asleep, and that, therefore, fortunately he had not heard the ominous
voice. Awaking his companion, he said--"Let's go away, it's no use
waiting here any longer."
In the course of a few weeks, there was a funeral from the opposite
parish of Penstrowed, and the departed was to be buried in Aberhafesp
Church yard. The River Severn runs between these two parishes, and there
is no bridge nearer than that which spans the river at Caersws, and to
take the funeral that way would mean a journey of more than five miles.
It was determined, therefore, to ford the river opposite Aberhafesp
Church. The person who had fallen asleep in the porch volunteered to
carry the coffin over the river, and it was placed on the saddle in front
of this person, who, to save it from falling, was obliged to grasp it
with both arms; and, as the deceased had died of an infectious fever, the
coffin bearer was stricken, and within a week he too was a dead man, and
he was the first parishioner, as foretold by the Spirit, who died in the
parish of Aberhafesp that year.
According to Croker, in _Fairy Legends of Ireland_, vol. II., p. 288, the
Irish at Easter, Whitsuntide, and Christmas, after decorating the graves
of their ancestors:--"Also listen at the church door in the dark, when
they sometimes fancy they hear the names called over in church of those
who are destined shortly to join their lost relatives in the tomb."
It is not difficult to multiply instances of Spirits speaking in
churches, for legendary stories of this kind were attached to, or were
related of, many churches in Wales. One further tale therefore, shall
suffice.
_A Spirit in Llangerniew Church_, _Denbighshire_.
There was a tradition in this parish that on All-Hallows' Eve a Spirit
announced from the altar the names of those who were doomed to die in the
coming year. The Spirit was locally called _Angelystor_. Those who were
anxious to know whether they or their neighbours had a longer time to
live stood underneath the east window on that eve, and anxiously listened
for the dreaded revelation. It is related of a tailor, who was reckoned
a wit, and affected disbelief in the Spirit story, that he announced his
intention to prove the thing a myth, and so, one _Nos G'lan Geua'_, Shon
Robert, as he was called, proceeded to the church just before midnight,
and, to his horror, he heard his own name--"Shon ap Robert," uttered by
the Spirit. "Hold, hold!" said the tailor, "I am not quite ready!" But,
ready or not ready, it made no difference to the messenger of death, for
that year the tailor died.
According to rustic opinion, demons were, from sinister motives, much
given to frequenting churches; still it was thought that as the Priest
entered the sacred building by the south door these Spirits were obliged
to make their exit through the north door, which was called in
consequence the Devil's Door; and this door was opened, and left open
awhile, to enable these Evil Spirits to escape from the church, before
divine service commenced. In agreement with this notion, the north side
of church yards was designated the Domain of Demons, and, by association
of ideas, no one formerly was buried in this side, but in our days the
north part of the church yard--where the space in the other parts has
already been occupied--is used for interments, and the north doors in
most old churches have been built up.