“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 atLlwyn Llwyd, where theKnockerswere 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 theKnockers, or rather God, who sends us these notices.”
The second letter is as follows:—
“I have no time to answer your objection againstKnockers; I have a large treatise collected on that head, andwhat 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 atLlwyn Llwydwere ear-witnesses ofKnockerspumping, 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 ofEsgair y Mwynmine 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 ofKnockers, 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 theKnockers. 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 ofKnockers, 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. OurKnockersare 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 itisa 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 ofKnockersfrom 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 disagreeingwith 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 ofKnockers, 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 eversawone of theseKnockers. 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 hisBritish Goblins, p. 28, gives an account ofCoblynauorKnockerswhich 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 notCoblynau.
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 ofLlanvihangel Ysgeiviog, in Anglesea, where they continued, at intervals, for some weeks.”Bingley’sNorth Wales, vol. ii., p. 275.
“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 ofLlanvihangel Ysgeiviog, in Anglesea, where they continued, at intervals, for some weeks.”
Bingley’sNorth 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.
Another imaginary being, closely allied to the Fairy family, was thePwka. 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 thePwka, in common with theBrownie, was a willing worker.
The Rev. Edmund Jones in hisBook of Apparitionsgives 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 theApparitionsstates 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 himthrough 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’sFairy 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 sofast. 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.
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 ourdays. 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.
The wordsCwn Annwnare variously translated as Dogs of Hell, Dogs of Elfinland. In some parts of Wales they are calledCwn Wybir, Dogs of the Sky, and in other placesCwn 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 inY Brython, vol. iii p. 22. Briefly stated it is as follows:—Cwn Bendith y Mamauwere 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 thechurchyard 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 ofCwn Annwnis given in theCambro-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’sTales 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 ofCwn 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 riverEbwy, dividing between this parish andMynyddislwyn, whereby he knew they were what are calledCwn wybir(Sky dogs), but in the inward part of WalesCwn 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.”
“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 riverEbwy, dividing between this parish andMynyddislwyn, whereby he knew they were what are calledCwn wybir(Sky dogs), but in the inward part of WalesCwn 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 inThe Cambro-Briton, vol. ii., p. 271, another and more natural description ofCwn 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.”
“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 toCwn Annwnprevails 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 fromTales 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 inincessant 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 Magicæ of the Jesuit Delrio, lib. vi., c.2.”
“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 inincessant 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 Magicæ of the Jesuit Delrio, lib. vi., c.2.”
The preceding paragraph is from the pen of “R.J.K.,” and appears in theAthenæum, March 27, 1847, Art. Folk-lore.
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 theWhite Cow; in Wales she is,Y Fuwch Frech, orY 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 calledCefn Bannog, and near this farm, but on the unenclosed mountain, are traces of primitive abodes, and it was here that, tradition says, theFuwch Frechhad 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.
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 calledGwal 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 calledFfynon 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 theYchain 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 ofnew 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 theDau Eidion Banawg, the two long-horned oxen, toLlyn 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 ofGwydir, 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 asThe White Cow ofMitchell’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’sShropshire Folk-Lorefor 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 theDau ychain Banawgto that already related. His story is as follows:—
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 theDau 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 hisDau ychain Banawgdrew to land theavancout ofLlyn Llion, so that the lake burst out no more to deluge the earth. For, be it known, it was thisavancthat had occasioned the flood. However, there is a rival claimant for the honour of having destroyed theavanc, 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 theTriads, 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.
The history of the Fairy Stray Cow appears inY 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 theBrython, appeared in theArchæologia Cambrensisfor 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 bytheir white hounds of supernatural fleetness and comeliness, theCwn 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 theGwartheg 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 theFuwch 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.’
‘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 deplorethe 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’sFairy 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.”
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 wordKelpie, in hisScottish 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-deityNekr, 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 wasthought 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 theTales of the Cymry, p. 151, which is itself an extract from Mrs. S. C. Hall’sIreland, 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.”
“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, oncondition 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.
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.
TheCeffyl-y-Dwfrwas 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 wellCan in the space of a day naturél,This is to say, in foure and twenty houres,Where so ye lists, in drought or ellés showers,Baren yours bodie into everie place,In which your hearté willeth for to pace,Withouten wemme of you through foul or fair,Or if you liste to flee as high in th’ aireAs 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 couldé many a gin,He waited many a constellation,Ere he had done this operation.Chaucer’s Squire’s Tale, 137-152.
This steed of brasse, and easilie and wellCan in the space of a day naturél,This is to say, in foure and twenty houres,Where so ye lists, in drought or ellés showers,Baren yours bodie into everie place,In which your hearté willeth for to pace,Withouten wemme of you through foul or fair,Or if you liste to flee as high in th’ aireAs 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 couldé 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 theTales of the Cymryand from this work I have culled many thoughts.
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 hisMythology of the Druids, says that believers in this strange superstition are yet to be met with inGlamorganshire. Davies was born in the parish of Llanvareth, Radnorshire, in 1756, and died January 1st, 1831.
Another supernatural being associated with water was theGwrach 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 thisGwrach 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 calledY 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.
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.”
Although Max Müller, inChips from a German Workshop, vol. ii., p. 238, states that “The Aryan nations had no Devil,” this certainly cannot at present be affirmed of thatbranch 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 eitherinoroutsidethe 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 buriedinorunderthe 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 inY 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 toassume, and such was the picture drawn of him formerly in Wales.
There is a strong family likeness in this description between Satan andPan, 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.
TheFauni, certain deities of Italy, are also represented as having the legs, feet, and ears of goats, and the rest of the body human, and theSatyriof 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 mediæval 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, Typhæus, or Typhon, and Chimæra, 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 Chimæra 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.
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 afriend’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 ittwo horns. He immediately turned round to have a careful look at his companion; he, however, did not see him, but in his place was aball 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 thecloven footand not thehorned headwas detected. The scene of this tale is laid in the parish of Rhuddlan near Rhyl.
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 Hênafon 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.
“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 lôu groes, daeth boneddwr i’w gyfarfod, ag aeth yn ymgom rhyngddynt. Gofynodd y boneddwr iddo chware’matcho 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’matchar 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 lân. 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 dân rhyngddoa 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 awheel of fire, and departed bowling towards Plas Iolyn, and Bob went home to Gilar.
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 dân; 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 tân, 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.
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.
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.