VI.At Nefyn, in Ỻeyn14, I had some stories about theTylwyth Tegfrom Lowri Hughes, the widow of JohnHughes, who lives in a cottage at Pen Isa’r Dref, and is over seventy-four years of age. An aunt of hers, who knew a great many tales, had died about six years before my visit, at the advanced age of ninety-six. She used to relate to Lowri how theTylwythwere in the habit of visiting Singrug, a house now in ruins on the land of Pen Isa’r Dref, and how they had a habit of borrowing apadeỻandgradeỻfor baking: they paid for the loan of them by giving their owners a loaf. Her grandmother, who died not long ago at a very advanced age, remembered a time when she was milking in a corner of the land of Carn Bodüan, and how a little dog came to her and received a blow from her that sent it rolling away. Presently, she added, the dog reappeared with a lame man playing on a fiddle; but she gave them no milk. If she had done so, there was no knowing, she said, how much money she might have got. But, as it was, such singing and dancing were indulged in by theTylwytharound the lame fiddler that she ran away as fast as her feet could carry her. Lowri’s husband had also seen theTylwythat the break of day, near Madrun Mill, where they seem to have been holding a sort of conversazione; but presently one of them observed that he had heard the voice of the hen’s husband, and off they went instantly then. The fairies were in the habit also of dancing and singing on the headland across which lie the old earthworks called Dinỻaen. When they had played and enjoyed themselves enough, they used to lift a certain bit of sod and descend to their own land. My informant had also heard the midwife story, and she was aware that the fairies changed people’s children; in fact, she mentioned to me a farm house not far off where there was a daughter of this origin then, not to mention that she knew all about Elis Bach. Another woman whom Imet near Porth Dinỻaen said, that the Dinỻaen fairies were only seen when the weather was a little misty.At Nefyn, Mr. John Williams (Alaw Ỻeyn) got from his mother the tale of the midwife. It stated that the latter lost the sight of her right eye at Nefyn Fair, owing to the fairy she there recognized, pricking her eye with a green rush. During my visit to Aberdaron, my wife and I went to the top of Mynyđ Anelog, and on the way up we passed a cottage, where a very illiterate woman told us that theTylwyth Tegformerly frequented the mountain when there was mist on it; that they changed people’s children if they were left alone on the ground; and that the way to get the right child back was to leave the fairy urchin without being touched or fed. She also said that, after baking, people left thegradeỻfor the fairies to do their baking: they would then leave a cake behind them as pay. As for the fairies just now, they have been exorcised (wedi’ffrymu) for some length of time. Mrs. Williams, of Pwỻ Defaid, told me that the rock opposite, called Clip y Gylfinir, on Bodwyđog mountain, a part of Mynyđ y Rhiw, was the resort of theTylwyth Teg, and that they revelled there when it was covered with mist; she added that a neighbouring farm, called Bodermud Isa’, was well known at one time as a place where the fairies came to do their baking. But the most remarkable tale I had in the neighbourhood of Aberdaron was from Evan Williams, a smith who lives at Yr Arđ Las, on Rhos Hirwaen. If I remember rightly, he is a native of Ỻaniestin, and what he told me relates to a farmer’s wife who lived at the Nant, in that parish. Now this old lady was frequently visited by a fairy who used to borrowpadeỻ a gradeỻfrom her. These she used to get, and she returned them with a loaf borne on her head in acknowledgement. But one day she came toask for the loan of hertroeỻ bach, or wheel for spinning flax. When handing her this, the farmer’s wife wished to know her name, as she came so often, but she refused to tell her. However, she was watched at her spinning, and overheard singing to the whir of the wheel:—Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Sìli go DwtYw f’enw i.Little did she knowThat Silly go DwtIs my name.This explains to some extent thesìli ffritsung by a Corwrion fairy when she came out of the lake to spin: see p. 64 above. At first I had in vain tried to make out the meaning of that bit of legend; but since then I have also found the Ỻaniestin rhyme a little varied at Ỻanberis: it was picked up there, I do not exactly know how, by my little girls this summer. The words as they have them run thus:—Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Trwtyn-TratynYw f’enw i.Here, instead ofSìli go DwtorSìli ffrit, the name isTrwtyn-Tratyn, and these doggerels at once remind one of the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen; but it is clear that we have as yet only the merest fragments of the whole, though I have been thus far unable to get any more. So one cannot quite say how far it resembled the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen: there is certainly one difference, which is at once patent, namely, that while the German Rumpelstiltzchen was a male fairy, our WelshSìli ffritorSìli go Dwtis of the other sex. Probably, in the Ỻaniestin tale, the borrowing for baking had nothing to do with the spinning, for all fairies in Ỻeyn borrow apadeỻand agradeỻ, while they do not usually appear to spin. Then may we suppose that the spinning was in this instance done for the farmer’s wife on conditions which she was able to evade by discovering the fairyhelper’s name? At any rate one expects a story representing the farmer’s wife laid under obligation by the fairy, and not the reverse. I shall have an opportunity of returning to this kind of tale in chapter x.The smith told me another short tale, about a farmer who lived not long ago at Deunant, close to Aberdaron. The latter used, as is the wont of country people, to go out a few steps in front of his house every night to —— before going to bed; but once on a time, while he was standing there, a stranger stood by him and spoke to him, saying that he had no idea how he and his family were annoyed by him. The farmer asked how that could be, to which the stranger replied that his house was just below where they stood, and if he would only stand on his foot he would see that what he said was true. The farmer complying, put his foot on the other’s foot, and then he could clearly see that all the slops from his house went down the chimney of the other’s house, which stood far below in a street he had never seen before. The fairy then advised him to have his door in the other side of his house, and that if he did so his cattle would never suffer from theclwy’ byr15. The result was that the farmer obeyed, and had his door walled up and another made in the other side of the house: ever after he was a most prosperous man, and nobody was so successful as he in rearing stock in all that part of the country. To place the whole thing beyond the possibility of doubt, Evan Williams assured me that he had often seen the farmer’s house with the front door in the back. I mention this strange story in order to compare it, in the matter of standing on the fairy’s foot, with that of standing with one’s foot just inside a fairy ring. Compare also standing on a particularsod in Dyfed in order to behold the delectable realm of Rhys Đwfn’s Children: see p. 158 above.
VI.At Nefyn, in Ỻeyn14, I had some stories about theTylwyth Tegfrom Lowri Hughes, the widow of JohnHughes, who lives in a cottage at Pen Isa’r Dref, and is over seventy-four years of age. An aunt of hers, who knew a great many tales, had died about six years before my visit, at the advanced age of ninety-six. She used to relate to Lowri how theTylwythwere in the habit of visiting Singrug, a house now in ruins on the land of Pen Isa’r Dref, and how they had a habit of borrowing apadeỻandgradeỻfor baking: they paid for the loan of them by giving their owners a loaf. Her grandmother, who died not long ago at a very advanced age, remembered a time when she was milking in a corner of the land of Carn Bodüan, and how a little dog came to her and received a blow from her that sent it rolling away. Presently, she added, the dog reappeared with a lame man playing on a fiddle; but she gave them no milk. If she had done so, there was no knowing, she said, how much money she might have got. But, as it was, such singing and dancing were indulged in by theTylwytharound the lame fiddler that she ran away as fast as her feet could carry her. Lowri’s husband had also seen theTylwythat the break of day, near Madrun Mill, where they seem to have been holding a sort of conversazione; but presently one of them observed that he had heard the voice of the hen’s husband, and off they went instantly then. The fairies were in the habit also of dancing and singing on the headland across which lie the old earthworks called Dinỻaen. When they had played and enjoyed themselves enough, they used to lift a certain bit of sod and descend to their own land. My informant had also heard the midwife story, and she was aware that the fairies changed people’s children; in fact, she mentioned to me a farm house not far off where there was a daughter of this origin then, not to mention that she knew all about Elis Bach. Another woman whom Imet near Porth Dinỻaen said, that the Dinỻaen fairies were only seen when the weather was a little misty.At Nefyn, Mr. John Williams (Alaw Ỻeyn) got from his mother the tale of the midwife. It stated that the latter lost the sight of her right eye at Nefyn Fair, owing to the fairy she there recognized, pricking her eye with a green rush. During my visit to Aberdaron, my wife and I went to the top of Mynyđ Anelog, and on the way up we passed a cottage, where a very illiterate woman told us that theTylwyth Tegformerly frequented the mountain when there was mist on it; that they changed people’s children if they were left alone on the ground; and that the way to get the right child back was to leave the fairy urchin without being touched or fed. She also said that, after baking, people left thegradeỻfor the fairies to do their baking: they would then leave a cake behind them as pay. As for the fairies just now, they have been exorcised (wedi’ffrymu) for some length of time. Mrs. Williams, of Pwỻ Defaid, told me that the rock opposite, called Clip y Gylfinir, on Bodwyđog mountain, a part of Mynyđ y Rhiw, was the resort of theTylwyth Teg, and that they revelled there when it was covered with mist; she added that a neighbouring farm, called Bodermud Isa’, was well known at one time as a place where the fairies came to do their baking. But the most remarkable tale I had in the neighbourhood of Aberdaron was from Evan Williams, a smith who lives at Yr Arđ Las, on Rhos Hirwaen. If I remember rightly, he is a native of Ỻaniestin, and what he told me relates to a farmer’s wife who lived at the Nant, in that parish. Now this old lady was frequently visited by a fairy who used to borrowpadeỻ a gradeỻfrom her. These she used to get, and she returned them with a loaf borne on her head in acknowledgement. But one day she came toask for the loan of hertroeỻ bach, or wheel for spinning flax. When handing her this, the farmer’s wife wished to know her name, as she came so often, but she refused to tell her. However, she was watched at her spinning, and overheard singing to the whir of the wheel:—Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Sìli go DwtYw f’enw i.Little did she knowThat Silly go DwtIs my name.This explains to some extent thesìli ffritsung by a Corwrion fairy when she came out of the lake to spin: see p. 64 above. At first I had in vain tried to make out the meaning of that bit of legend; but since then I have also found the Ỻaniestin rhyme a little varied at Ỻanberis: it was picked up there, I do not exactly know how, by my little girls this summer. The words as they have them run thus:—Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Trwtyn-TratynYw f’enw i.Here, instead ofSìli go DwtorSìli ffrit, the name isTrwtyn-Tratyn, and these doggerels at once remind one of the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen; but it is clear that we have as yet only the merest fragments of the whole, though I have been thus far unable to get any more. So one cannot quite say how far it resembled the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen: there is certainly one difference, which is at once patent, namely, that while the German Rumpelstiltzchen was a male fairy, our WelshSìli ffritorSìli go Dwtis of the other sex. Probably, in the Ỻaniestin tale, the borrowing for baking had nothing to do with the spinning, for all fairies in Ỻeyn borrow apadeỻand agradeỻ, while they do not usually appear to spin. Then may we suppose that the spinning was in this instance done for the farmer’s wife on conditions which she was able to evade by discovering the fairyhelper’s name? At any rate one expects a story representing the farmer’s wife laid under obligation by the fairy, and not the reverse. I shall have an opportunity of returning to this kind of tale in chapter x.The smith told me another short tale, about a farmer who lived not long ago at Deunant, close to Aberdaron. The latter used, as is the wont of country people, to go out a few steps in front of his house every night to —— before going to bed; but once on a time, while he was standing there, a stranger stood by him and spoke to him, saying that he had no idea how he and his family were annoyed by him. The farmer asked how that could be, to which the stranger replied that his house was just below where they stood, and if he would only stand on his foot he would see that what he said was true. The farmer complying, put his foot on the other’s foot, and then he could clearly see that all the slops from his house went down the chimney of the other’s house, which stood far below in a street he had never seen before. The fairy then advised him to have his door in the other side of his house, and that if he did so his cattle would never suffer from theclwy’ byr15. The result was that the farmer obeyed, and had his door walled up and another made in the other side of the house: ever after he was a most prosperous man, and nobody was so successful as he in rearing stock in all that part of the country. To place the whole thing beyond the possibility of doubt, Evan Williams assured me that he had often seen the farmer’s house with the front door in the back. I mention this strange story in order to compare it, in the matter of standing on the fairy’s foot, with that of standing with one’s foot just inside a fairy ring. Compare also standing on a particularsod in Dyfed in order to behold the delectable realm of Rhys Đwfn’s Children: see p. 158 above.
VI.At Nefyn, in Ỻeyn14, I had some stories about theTylwyth Tegfrom Lowri Hughes, the widow of JohnHughes, who lives in a cottage at Pen Isa’r Dref, and is over seventy-four years of age. An aunt of hers, who knew a great many tales, had died about six years before my visit, at the advanced age of ninety-six. She used to relate to Lowri how theTylwythwere in the habit of visiting Singrug, a house now in ruins on the land of Pen Isa’r Dref, and how they had a habit of borrowing apadeỻandgradeỻfor baking: they paid for the loan of them by giving their owners a loaf. Her grandmother, who died not long ago at a very advanced age, remembered a time when she was milking in a corner of the land of Carn Bodüan, and how a little dog came to her and received a blow from her that sent it rolling away. Presently, she added, the dog reappeared with a lame man playing on a fiddle; but she gave them no milk. If she had done so, there was no knowing, she said, how much money she might have got. But, as it was, such singing and dancing were indulged in by theTylwytharound the lame fiddler that she ran away as fast as her feet could carry her. Lowri’s husband had also seen theTylwythat the break of day, near Madrun Mill, where they seem to have been holding a sort of conversazione; but presently one of them observed that he had heard the voice of the hen’s husband, and off they went instantly then. The fairies were in the habit also of dancing and singing on the headland across which lie the old earthworks called Dinỻaen. When they had played and enjoyed themselves enough, they used to lift a certain bit of sod and descend to their own land. My informant had also heard the midwife story, and she was aware that the fairies changed people’s children; in fact, she mentioned to me a farm house not far off where there was a daughter of this origin then, not to mention that she knew all about Elis Bach. Another woman whom Imet near Porth Dinỻaen said, that the Dinỻaen fairies were only seen when the weather was a little misty.At Nefyn, Mr. John Williams (Alaw Ỻeyn) got from his mother the tale of the midwife. It stated that the latter lost the sight of her right eye at Nefyn Fair, owing to the fairy she there recognized, pricking her eye with a green rush. During my visit to Aberdaron, my wife and I went to the top of Mynyđ Anelog, and on the way up we passed a cottage, where a very illiterate woman told us that theTylwyth Tegformerly frequented the mountain when there was mist on it; that they changed people’s children if they were left alone on the ground; and that the way to get the right child back was to leave the fairy urchin without being touched or fed. She also said that, after baking, people left thegradeỻfor the fairies to do their baking: they would then leave a cake behind them as pay. As for the fairies just now, they have been exorcised (wedi’ffrymu) for some length of time. Mrs. Williams, of Pwỻ Defaid, told me that the rock opposite, called Clip y Gylfinir, on Bodwyđog mountain, a part of Mynyđ y Rhiw, was the resort of theTylwyth Teg, and that they revelled there when it was covered with mist; she added that a neighbouring farm, called Bodermud Isa’, was well known at one time as a place where the fairies came to do their baking. But the most remarkable tale I had in the neighbourhood of Aberdaron was from Evan Williams, a smith who lives at Yr Arđ Las, on Rhos Hirwaen. If I remember rightly, he is a native of Ỻaniestin, and what he told me relates to a farmer’s wife who lived at the Nant, in that parish. Now this old lady was frequently visited by a fairy who used to borrowpadeỻ a gradeỻfrom her. These she used to get, and she returned them with a loaf borne on her head in acknowledgement. But one day she came toask for the loan of hertroeỻ bach, or wheel for spinning flax. When handing her this, the farmer’s wife wished to know her name, as she came so often, but she refused to tell her. However, she was watched at her spinning, and overheard singing to the whir of the wheel:—Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Sìli go DwtYw f’enw i.Little did she knowThat Silly go DwtIs my name.This explains to some extent thesìli ffritsung by a Corwrion fairy when she came out of the lake to spin: see p. 64 above. At first I had in vain tried to make out the meaning of that bit of legend; but since then I have also found the Ỻaniestin rhyme a little varied at Ỻanberis: it was picked up there, I do not exactly know how, by my little girls this summer. The words as they have them run thus:—Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Trwtyn-TratynYw f’enw i.Here, instead ofSìli go DwtorSìli ffrit, the name isTrwtyn-Tratyn, and these doggerels at once remind one of the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen; but it is clear that we have as yet only the merest fragments of the whole, though I have been thus far unable to get any more. So one cannot quite say how far it resembled the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen: there is certainly one difference, which is at once patent, namely, that while the German Rumpelstiltzchen was a male fairy, our WelshSìli ffritorSìli go Dwtis of the other sex. Probably, in the Ỻaniestin tale, the borrowing for baking had nothing to do with the spinning, for all fairies in Ỻeyn borrow apadeỻand agradeỻ, while they do not usually appear to spin. Then may we suppose that the spinning was in this instance done for the farmer’s wife on conditions which she was able to evade by discovering the fairyhelper’s name? At any rate one expects a story representing the farmer’s wife laid under obligation by the fairy, and not the reverse. I shall have an opportunity of returning to this kind of tale in chapter x.The smith told me another short tale, about a farmer who lived not long ago at Deunant, close to Aberdaron. The latter used, as is the wont of country people, to go out a few steps in front of his house every night to —— before going to bed; but once on a time, while he was standing there, a stranger stood by him and spoke to him, saying that he had no idea how he and his family were annoyed by him. The farmer asked how that could be, to which the stranger replied that his house was just below where they stood, and if he would only stand on his foot he would see that what he said was true. The farmer complying, put his foot on the other’s foot, and then he could clearly see that all the slops from his house went down the chimney of the other’s house, which stood far below in a street he had never seen before. The fairy then advised him to have his door in the other side of his house, and that if he did so his cattle would never suffer from theclwy’ byr15. The result was that the farmer obeyed, and had his door walled up and another made in the other side of the house: ever after he was a most prosperous man, and nobody was so successful as he in rearing stock in all that part of the country. To place the whole thing beyond the possibility of doubt, Evan Williams assured me that he had often seen the farmer’s house with the front door in the back. I mention this strange story in order to compare it, in the matter of standing on the fairy’s foot, with that of standing with one’s foot just inside a fairy ring. Compare also standing on a particularsod in Dyfed in order to behold the delectable realm of Rhys Đwfn’s Children: see p. 158 above.
VI.At Nefyn, in Ỻeyn14, I had some stories about theTylwyth Tegfrom Lowri Hughes, the widow of JohnHughes, who lives in a cottage at Pen Isa’r Dref, and is over seventy-four years of age. An aunt of hers, who knew a great many tales, had died about six years before my visit, at the advanced age of ninety-six. She used to relate to Lowri how theTylwythwere in the habit of visiting Singrug, a house now in ruins on the land of Pen Isa’r Dref, and how they had a habit of borrowing apadeỻandgradeỻfor baking: they paid for the loan of them by giving their owners a loaf. Her grandmother, who died not long ago at a very advanced age, remembered a time when she was milking in a corner of the land of Carn Bodüan, and how a little dog came to her and received a blow from her that sent it rolling away. Presently, she added, the dog reappeared with a lame man playing on a fiddle; but she gave them no milk. If she had done so, there was no knowing, she said, how much money she might have got. But, as it was, such singing and dancing were indulged in by theTylwytharound the lame fiddler that she ran away as fast as her feet could carry her. Lowri’s husband had also seen theTylwythat the break of day, near Madrun Mill, where they seem to have been holding a sort of conversazione; but presently one of them observed that he had heard the voice of the hen’s husband, and off they went instantly then. The fairies were in the habit also of dancing and singing on the headland across which lie the old earthworks called Dinỻaen. When they had played and enjoyed themselves enough, they used to lift a certain bit of sod and descend to their own land. My informant had also heard the midwife story, and she was aware that the fairies changed people’s children; in fact, she mentioned to me a farm house not far off where there was a daughter of this origin then, not to mention that she knew all about Elis Bach. Another woman whom Imet near Porth Dinỻaen said, that the Dinỻaen fairies were only seen when the weather was a little misty.At Nefyn, Mr. John Williams (Alaw Ỻeyn) got from his mother the tale of the midwife. It stated that the latter lost the sight of her right eye at Nefyn Fair, owing to the fairy she there recognized, pricking her eye with a green rush. During my visit to Aberdaron, my wife and I went to the top of Mynyđ Anelog, and on the way up we passed a cottage, where a very illiterate woman told us that theTylwyth Tegformerly frequented the mountain when there was mist on it; that they changed people’s children if they were left alone on the ground; and that the way to get the right child back was to leave the fairy urchin without being touched or fed. She also said that, after baking, people left thegradeỻfor the fairies to do their baking: they would then leave a cake behind them as pay. As for the fairies just now, they have been exorcised (wedi’ffrymu) for some length of time. Mrs. Williams, of Pwỻ Defaid, told me that the rock opposite, called Clip y Gylfinir, on Bodwyđog mountain, a part of Mynyđ y Rhiw, was the resort of theTylwyth Teg, and that they revelled there when it was covered with mist; she added that a neighbouring farm, called Bodermud Isa’, was well known at one time as a place where the fairies came to do their baking. But the most remarkable tale I had in the neighbourhood of Aberdaron was from Evan Williams, a smith who lives at Yr Arđ Las, on Rhos Hirwaen. If I remember rightly, he is a native of Ỻaniestin, and what he told me relates to a farmer’s wife who lived at the Nant, in that parish. Now this old lady was frequently visited by a fairy who used to borrowpadeỻ a gradeỻfrom her. These she used to get, and she returned them with a loaf borne on her head in acknowledgement. But one day she came toask for the loan of hertroeỻ bach, or wheel for spinning flax. When handing her this, the farmer’s wife wished to know her name, as she came so often, but she refused to tell her. However, she was watched at her spinning, and overheard singing to the whir of the wheel:—Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Sìli go DwtYw f’enw i.Little did she knowThat Silly go DwtIs my name.This explains to some extent thesìli ffritsung by a Corwrion fairy when she came out of the lake to spin: see p. 64 above. At first I had in vain tried to make out the meaning of that bit of legend; but since then I have also found the Ỻaniestin rhyme a little varied at Ỻanberis: it was picked up there, I do not exactly know how, by my little girls this summer. The words as they have them run thus:—Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Trwtyn-TratynYw f’enw i.Here, instead ofSìli go DwtorSìli ffrit, the name isTrwtyn-Tratyn, and these doggerels at once remind one of the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen; but it is clear that we have as yet only the merest fragments of the whole, though I have been thus far unable to get any more. So one cannot quite say how far it resembled the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen: there is certainly one difference, which is at once patent, namely, that while the German Rumpelstiltzchen was a male fairy, our WelshSìli ffritorSìli go Dwtis of the other sex. Probably, in the Ỻaniestin tale, the borrowing for baking had nothing to do with the spinning, for all fairies in Ỻeyn borrow apadeỻand agradeỻ, while they do not usually appear to spin. Then may we suppose that the spinning was in this instance done for the farmer’s wife on conditions which she was able to evade by discovering the fairyhelper’s name? At any rate one expects a story representing the farmer’s wife laid under obligation by the fairy, and not the reverse. I shall have an opportunity of returning to this kind of tale in chapter x.The smith told me another short tale, about a farmer who lived not long ago at Deunant, close to Aberdaron. The latter used, as is the wont of country people, to go out a few steps in front of his house every night to —— before going to bed; but once on a time, while he was standing there, a stranger stood by him and spoke to him, saying that he had no idea how he and his family were annoyed by him. The farmer asked how that could be, to which the stranger replied that his house was just below where they stood, and if he would only stand on his foot he would see that what he said was true. The farmer complying, put his foot on the other’s foot, and then he could clearly see that all the slops from his house went down the chimney of the other’s house, which stood far below in a street he had never seen before. The fairy then advised him to have his door in the other side of his house, and that if he did so his cattle would never suffer from theclwy’ byr15. The result was that the farmer obeyed, and had his door walled up and another made in the other side of the house: ever after he was a most prosperous man, and nobody was so successful as he in rearing stock in all that part of the country. To place the whole thing beyond the possibility of doubt, Evan Williams assured me that he had often seen the farmer’s house with the front door in the back. I mention this strange story in order to compare it, in the matter of standing on the fairy’s foot, with that of standing with one’s foot just inside a fairy ring. Compare also standing on a particularsod in Dyfed in order to behold the delectable realm of Rhys Đwfn’s Children: see p. 158 above.
VI.
At Nefyn, in Ỻeyn14, I had some stories about theTylwyth Tegfrom Lowri Hughes, the widow of JohnHughes, who lives in a cottage at Pen Isa’r Dref, and is over seventy-four years of age. An aunt of hers, who knew a great many tales, had died about six years before my visit, at the advanced age of ninety-six. She used to relate to Lowri how theTylwythwere in the habit of visiting Singrug, a house now in ruins on the land of Pen Isa’r Dref, and how they had a habit of borrowing apadeỻandgradeỻfor baking: they paid for the loan of them by giving their owners a loaf. Her grandmother, who died not long ago at a very advanced age, remembered a time when she was milking in a corner of the land of Carn Bodüan, and how a little dog came to her and received a blow from her that sent it rolling away. Presently, she added, the dog reappeared with a lame man playing on a fiddle; but she gave them no milk. If she had done so, there was no knowing, she said, how much money she might have got. But, as it was, such singing and dancing were indulged in by theTylwytharound the lame fiddler that she ran away as fast as her feet could carry her. Lowri’s husband had also seen theTylwythat the break of day, near Madrun Mill, where they seem to have been holding a sort of conversazione; but presently one of them observed that he had heard the voice of the hen’s husband, and off they went instantly then. The fairies were in the habit also of dancing and singing on the headland across which lie the old earthworks called Dinỻaen. When they had played and enjoyed themselves enough, they used to lift a certain bit of sod and descend to their own land. My informant had also heard the midwife story, and she was aware that the fairies changed people’s children; in fact, she mentioned to me a farm house not far off where there was a daughter of this origin then, not to mention that she knew all about Elis Bach. Another woman whom Imet near Porth Dinỻaen said, that the Dinỻaen fairies were only seen when the weather was a little misty.At Nefyn, Mr. John Williams (Alaw Ỻeyn) got from his mother the tale of the midwife. It stated that the latter lost the sight of her right eye at Nefyn Fair, owing to the fairy she there recognized, pricking her eye with a green rush. During my visit to Aberdaron, my wife and I went to the top of Mynyđ Anelog, and on the way up we passed a cottage, where a very illiterate woman told us that theTylwyth Tegformerly frequented the mountain when there was mist on it; that they changed people’s children if they were left alone on the ground; and that the way to get the right child back was to leave the fairy urchin without being touched or fed. She also said that, after baking, people left thegradeỻfor the fairies to do their baking: they would then leave a cake behind them as pay. As for the fairies just now, they have been exorcised (wedi’ffrymu) for some length of time. Mrs. Williams, of Pwỻ Defaid, told me that the rock opposite, called Clip y Gylfinir, on Bodwyđog mountain, a part of Mynyđ y Rhiw, was the resort of theTylwyth Teg, and that they revelled there when it was covered with mist; she added that a neighbouring farm, called Bodermud Isa’, was well known at one time as a place where the fairies came to do their baking. But the most remarkable tale I had in the neighbourhood of Aberdaron was from Evan Williams, a smith who lives at Yr Arđ Las, on Rhos Hirwaen. If I remember rightly, he is a native of Ỻaniestin, and what he told me relates to a farmer’s wife who lived at the Nant, in that parish. Now this old lady was frequently visited by a fairy who used to borrowpadeỻ a gradeỻfrom her. These she used to get, and she returned them with a loaf borne on her head in acknowledgement. But one day she came toask for the loan of hertroeỻ bach, or wheel for spinning flax. When handing her this, the farmer’s wife wished to know her name, as she came so often, but she refused to tell her. However, she was watched at her spinning, and overheard singing to the whir of the wheel:—Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Sìli go DwtYw f’enw i.Little did she knowThat Silly go DwtIs my name.This explains to some extent thesìli ffritsung by a Corwrion fairy when she came out of the lake to spin: see p. 64 above. At first I had in vain tried to make out the meaning of that bit of legend; but since then I have also found the Ỻaniestin rhyme a little varied at Ỻanberis: it was picked up there, I do not exactly know how, by my little girls this summer. The words as they have them run thus:—Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Trwtyn-TratynYw f’enw i.Here, instead ofSìli go DwtorSìli ffrit, the name isTrwtyn-Tratyn, and these doggerels at once remind one of the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen; but it is clear that we have as yet only the merest fragments of the whole, though I have been thus far unable to get any more. So one cannot quite say how far it resembled the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen: there is certainly one difference, which is at once patent, namely, that while the German Rumpelstiltzchen was a male fairy, our WelshSìli ffritorSìli go Dwtis of the other sex. Probably, in the Ỻaniestin tale, the borrowing for baking had nothing to do with the spinning, for all fairies in Ỻeyn borrow apadeỻand agradeỻ, while they do not usually appear to spin. Then may we suppose that the spinning was in this instance done for the farmer’s wife on conditions which she was able to evade by discovering the fairyhelper’s name? At any rate one expects a story representing the farmer’s wife laid under obligation by the fairy, and not the reverse. I shall have an opportunity of returning to this kind of tale in chapter x.The smith told me another short tale, about a farmer who lived not long ago at Deunant, close to Aberdaron. The latter used, as is the wont of country people, to go out a few steps in front of his house every night to —— before going to bed; but once on a time, while he was standing there, a stranger stood by him and spoke to him, saying that he had no idea how he and his family were annoyed by him. The farmer asked how that could be, to which the stranger replied that his house was just below where they stood, and if he would only stand on his foot he would see that what he said was true. The farmer complying, put his foot on the other’s foot, and then he could clearly see that all the slops from his house went down the chimney of the other’s house, which stood far below in a street he had never seen before. The fairy then advised him to have his door in the other side of his house, and that if he did so his cattle would never suffer from theclwy’ byr15. The result was that the farmer obeyed, and had his door walled up and another made in the other side of the house: ever after he was a most prosperous man, and nobody was so successful as he in rearing stock in all that part of the country. To place the whole thing beyond the possibility of doubt, Evan Williams assured me that he had often seen the farmer’s house with the front door in the back. I mention this strange story in order to compare it, in the matter of standing on the fairy’s foot, with that of standing with one’s foot just inside a fairy ring. Compare also standing on a particularsod in Dyfed in order to behold the delectable realm of Rhys Đwfn’s Children: see p. 158 above.
At Nefyn, in Ỻeyn14, I had some stories about theTylwyth Tegfrom Lowri Hughes, the widow of JohnHughes, who lives in a cottage at Pen Isa’r Dref, and is over seventy-four years of age. An aunt of hers, who knew a great many tales, had died about six years before my visit, at the advanced age of ninety-six. She used to relate to Lowri how theTylwythwere in the habit of visiting Singrug, a house now in ruins on the land of Pen Isa’r Dref, and how they had a habit of borrowing apadeỻandgradeỻfor baking: they paid for the loan of them by giving their owners a loaf. Her grandmother, who died not long ago at a very advanced age, remembered a time when she was milking in a corner of the land of Carn Bodüan, and how a little dog came to her and received a blow from her that sent it rolling away. Presently, she added, the dog reappeared with a lame man playing on a fiddle; but she gave them no milk. If she had done so, there was no knowing, she said, how much money she might have got. But, as it was, such singing and dancing were indulged in by theTylwytharound the lame fiddler that she ran away as fast as her feet could carry her. Lowri’s husband had also seen theTylwythat the break of day, near Madrun Mill, where they seem to have been holding a sort of conversazione; but presently one of them observed that he had heard the voice of the hen’s husband, and off they went instantly then. The fairies were in the habit also of dancing and singing on the headland across which lie the old earthworks called Dinỻaen. When they had played and enjoyed themselves enough, they used to lift a certain bit of sod and descend to their own land. My informant had also heard the midwife story, and she was aware that the fairies changed people’s children; in fact, she mentioned to me a farm house not far off where there was a daughter of this origin then, not to mention that she knew all about Elis Bach. Another woman whom Imet near Porth Dinỻaen said, that the Dinỻaen fairies were only seen when the weather was a little misty.
At Nefyn, Mr. John Williams (Alaw Ỻeyn) got from his mother the tale of the midwife. It stated that the latter lost the sight of her right eye at Nefyn Fair, owing to the fairy she there recognized, pricking her eye with a green rush. During my visit to Aberdaron, my wife and I went to the top of Mynyđ Anelog, and on the way up we passed a cottage, where a very illiterate woman told us that theTylwyth Tegformerly frequented the mountain when there was mist on it; that they changed people’s children if they were left alone on the ground; and that the way to get the right child back was to leave the fairy urchin without being touched or fed. She also said that, after baking, people left thegradeỻfor the fairies to do their baking: they would then leave a cake behind them as pay. As for the fairies just now, they have been exorcised (wedi’ffrymu) for some length of time. Mrs. Williams, of Pwỻ Defaid, told me that the rock opposite, called Clip y Gylfinir, on Bodwyđog mountain, a part of Mynyđ y Rhiw, was the resort of theTylwyth Teg, and that they revelled there when it was covered with mist; she added that a neighbouring farm, called Bodermud Isa’, was well known at one time as a place where the fairies came to do their baking. But the most remarkable tale I had in the neighbourhood of Aberdaron was from Evan Williams, a smith who lives at Yr Arđ Las, on Rhos Hirwaen. If I remember rightly, he is a native of Ỻaniestin, and what he told me relates to a farmer’s wife who lived at the Nant, in that parish. Now this old lady was frequently visited by a fairy who used to borrowpadeỻ a gradeỻfrom her. These she used to get, and she returned them with a loaf borne on her head in acknowledgement. But one day she came toask for the loan of hertroeỻ bach, or wheel for spinning flax. When handing her this, the farmer’s wife wished to know her name, as she came so often, but she refused to tell her. However, she was watched at her spinning, and overheard singing to the whir of the wheel:—
Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Sìli go DwtYw f’enw i.Little did she knowThat Silly go DwtIs my name.
Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Sìli go DwtYw f’enw i.
Bychan a wyđa’ hi
Mai Sìli go Dwt
Yw f’enw i.
Little did she knowThat Silly go DwtIs my name.
Little did she know
That Silly go Dwt
Is my name.
This explains to some extent thesìli ffritsung by a Corwrion fairy when she came out of the lake to spin: see p. 64 above. At first I had in vain tried to make out the meaning of that bit of legend; but since then I have also found the Ỻaniestin rhyme a little varied at Ỻanberis: it was picked up there, I do not exactly know how, by my little girls this summer. The words as they have them run thus:—
Bychan a wyđa’ hiMai Trwtyn-TratynYw f’enw i.
Bychan a wyđa’ hi
Mai Trwtyn-Tratyn
Yw f’enw i.
Here, instead ofSìli go DwtorSìli ffrit, the name isTrwtyn-Tratyn, and these doggerels at once remind one of the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen; but it is clear that we have as yet only the merest fragments of the whole, though I have been thus far unable to get any more. So one cannot quite say how far it resembled the tale of Rumpelstiltzchen: there is certainly one difference, which is at once patent, namely, that while the German Rumpelstiltzchen was a male fairy, our WelshSìli ffritorSìli go Dwtis of the other sex. Probably, in the Ỻaniestin tale, the borrowing for baking had nothing to do with the spinning, for all fairies in Ỻeyn borrow apadeỻand agradeỻ, while they do not usually appear to spin. Then may we suppose that the spinning was in this instance done for the farmer’s wife on conditions which she was able to evade by discovering the fairyhelper’s name? At any rate one expects a story representing the farmer’s wife laid under obligation by the fairy, and not the reverse. I shall have an opportunity of returning to this kind of tale in chapter x.
The smith told me another short tale, about a farmer who lived not long ago at Deunant, close to Aberdaron. The latter used, as is the wont of country people, to go out a few steps in front of his house every night to —— before going to bed; but once on a time, while he was standing there, a stranger stood by him and spoke to him, saying that he had no idea how he and his family were annoyed by him. The farmer asked how that could be, to which the stranger replied that his house was just below where they stood, and if he would only stand on his foot he would see that what he said was true. The farmer complying, put his foot on the other’s foot, and then he could clearly see that all the slops from his house went down the chimney of the other’s house, which stood far below in a street he had never seen before. The fairy then advised him to have his door in the other side of his house, and that if he did so his cattle would never suffer from theclwy’ byr15. The result was that the farmer obeyed, and had his door walled up and another made in the other side of the house: ever after he was a most prosperous man, and nobody was so successful as he in rearing stock in all that part of the country. To place the whole thing beyond the possibility of doubt, Evan Williams assured me that he had often seen the farmer’s house with the front door in the back. I mention this strange story in order to compare it, in the matter of standing on the fairy’s foot, with that of standing with one’s foot just inside a fairy ring. Compare also standing on a particularsod in Dyfed in order to behold the delectable realm of Rhys Đwfn’s Children: see p. 158 above.