Folklore of Wales

by Anne Ross

  Many Welsh traditions, some of a great age, were concerned with a supernatural woman, perhaps a water deity, who lived under a lake or in various watery places. One such story, recorded by Elias Owen, is entitled the Myddfai Legend. The story begins with the well-known theme, the widow who has an only son. Here, she possesses large flocks of cattle, some of which she must get her son to drive to graze on the Black Mountain. Nearby was a small lake called Llyn y Fan Fâch (40).

  One day, the son perceived, to his amazement, a very lovely young woman with long, flowing hair, who was sitting on the calm surface of the lake, and, using the water as a looking-glass, combing her locks. He persuaded her to become his wife and she consented, making however one condition, namely that they should live together until he gave her three undeserved blows. If that were to happen she would leave him for ever. He accepted these conditions instantly and was filled with joy. Thus the lake lady gave her hand to the young man. The young couple were then married and went to live at a farm called Esgair Llaethdy, near Myddfai. There they lived in prosperity and happiness for several years and became the parents of three fine sons. But the first two of the causeless blows had been dealt. Years passed, their children had grown up, and were three outstandingly clever young men. Surrounded by so many worldly blessings, the husband forgot that only one causeless blow would destroy his prosperity. He was very careful in case any trivial happening should occur, that his wife would regard as a breach of their marriage contract. She told him that she loved him as much as ever, and warned him to be careful in case, through carelessness, he might give her the last of the three blows, which if it happened, would separate them for ever. However the last blow was eventually struck and she left, never to be seen by her husband again. This legend is recounted in full in chapter 9 infra.

  40 Myddfai and Llyn-y-Fan Fâch, Carmarthenshire

  The torrent spectre

  Many mountain torrents and high streams (front cover) were believed to be haunted by, or be the dwelling-place of, fierce spectres or other malevolent spirits bearing names which we shall meet with in other parts of this work. The spectre in question was conceived as being in the form of an old man or an evil spirit who was ruler of the mountain torrents, controlling the waters and the events connected with them. It was his great joy to see the lands flooded and revel in the chaos and human distress which such events occasioned. He was a terrifying creature to chance upon and it was widely believed that the outline of his frightening shape could actually be glimpsed beneath the water, seemingly moving forward with the rushing waters but in fact remaining stationary. Sometimes he would rise up half out of the water and then ascend to a considerable height, equal to at least half the height of the highest mountain. He resembled one of the frightening mists that one experiences in the Scottish Highlands as well as in Wales, a mist that takes on changing forms and resembles a variety of monstrous beings, semi-human or semi-animal. Later he would shrink until he was the size of a man. He had a savage countenance and an even more disturbing laugh. He had long hair which stood on end and was constantly enshrouded by mist. Right up to the nineteenth century, and possibly beyond, there were those who had complete belief in this alarming creature in both Glamorganshire and Radnorshire.

  Another fearsome water-creature was the female known as Gwrach y Rhibyn (hag of the mist). Her dwelling was supposed to be in dense fog: thus she was rarely glimpsed. She used to utter a hideous shriek, believed by the local people to portend some misfortune or indeed death itself. Some nervous inhabitants of the region thought that she would shriek out the name of one who was soon to die. Another aspect of this horror was known as yr Hen Chrwchwd (the old hump-backed one) which was in fact a fiend in the form of an old woman and believed to be the same demon as Gwrach y Rhibyn. In Carmarthenshire this monster of the mist is not described as an old woman but as a white-haired old man who sits on the point of the hill where the clouds rest. He is known as the Grey King, y Brenhin Llwyd. He may have controlled the movements of the mist but his function is not entirely clear.

  The water horse

  The concept of the mythological animal in the form of a horse known in Scotland as the ‘kelpie’ or each-uisge, in Wales as ceffyl y dwr, is common to all the Celtic countries. He was widely believed to be a malevolent spirit who took on the shape of a horse and tried to make people get on his back, whereupon he would swim out into the water and attempt to drown them. He could take on the form of a very handsome and desirable young man who would lure attractive girls in order to ravish them and then bring about their watery end. Sometimes, as in the Highlands of Scotland, he would still have waterweed clinging to his hair and traces of hooves were still present about his feet. Lucky girls could note these dread signs and, lulling him to sleep by their sweet singing, could creep away and run for their lives, praying he would not wake up and follow them.

  The water-horse of Wales, ceffyl y dwr, bore a marked similarity to his Gaelic counterpart. It was seemingly a belief in Wales that the clergy could ride on the back of a water-horse without incurring any danger. There is one tale of a clergyman who was riding a ceffyl y dwr while his parish clerk accompanied them on foot. The priest felt sorry for him and invited him to get up behind him, on the understanding that he would not speak while they were riding the animal, and so they proceeded for a while and the parish clerk did not utter a word. The horse went at a lively pace and, noting this, the clerk exclaimed aloud, and was immediately thrown to the ground. The priest remained where he was and, leaving the clerk on the ground, reviled him for not keeping his tongue quiet.

  Motley comments that the ceffyl y dwr was widely believed to be an evil spirit who could take on the form of a horse and approach the unsuspecting traveller or stranger with an invitation to get on his back. When he did so, the horse would either rise up into the air, or gallop over rivers and mountains, suddenly disappearing into the mist while throwing the rider to certain death. He is identical with the kelpie of Scottish tradition and the phoocah (púca) of the Irish.

  It was believed that the water-horses did not always remain in lakes and rivers, but would exercise themselves on the hills and play with the small native ponies before they became a mixed breed. Certain people, who knew the correct procedure, could call up a water-horse by means of shaking a magical bridle over the pool which it inhabited.

  The monster of Llyn Tegid, Bala, Gwynedd

  The monster has been sighted at regular intervals since c.1967 and the descriptions given by witnesses are remarkably similar. He has been nicknamed Anghenfil for some reason or another. A sighting is recorded for 1983 when a man, gazing down at the lake one morning, was astounded to see a strange object some 10ft in length progressing in a leisurely fashion towards the bank. He ran down to the shore but there was no sign of the monster. A fuller description of the creature was given by a local man who was fishing at the edge of the lake. The creature rose up and made in his direction. Its body was about 8ft in length, its skin dark and slimy and it had a very large head with malevolent eyes. It remained on the surface for some short while and then plunged back into the water.

  The Mawddach monster

  This monster allegedly lives in the Mawddach Estuary, Barmouth, Gwynedd. Sightings of it have been recorded for many years and a great number of people have alleged that they have seen it. It is described as having ‘a long neck, a square face and a long tail with a flipper at the back, and its skin was black and patchy’. A local woman claimed that she had seen four large footprints (‘as big as an elephant’s’) in the sand near Barmouth. Yet another sighting was reported by one Mr Jones of Harlech in 1937 who noticed a ‘crocodile-like creature’ walking along a riverbank immediately outside the town. A shopkeeper mounted a display of newspaper cuttings about the sightings of the monster. Nothing further seems to have been recorded about this strange creature.

  Conclusion

  Monsters have always been a source of fascination and, at a time when people still believed in them and we
re convinced that they had come face to face with them, they must have been a constant cause for apprehension. Monster tales survived even if the monsters — real or imaginary — did not, and they continue to intrigue us today. Perhaps we need monsters, or think we do. This is suggested by, for example, the most enigmatic and longed-for monster, known as the Loch Ness monster, which allegedly lurks in the seemingly bottomless waters of Loch Ness, in Inverness-shire, Scotland. From time to time ‘sightings’ have been made of this widely famed beast and there is some convincing evidence for its existence in the so-called ‘Dark Ages’. The earliest records of sightings occur in the Vita Sanctae Columbae (Life of St Columba), when the saint, on a journey from Iona to Inverness to try to Christianise the pagan Pictish king, Brude, saw one of his followers being seized and almost swallowed by the bloodthirsty beast. He cursed it and restored the young cleric to life but it was an uncomfortable moment. The fame of the monster has never diminished and has become virtually worldwide but it has been to date impossible to verify the various sightings recorded down the ages.

  Similar monsters are associated with lakes and rivers throughout the world and there seems to be a deep psychological need in mankind for these obnoxious animals. The possibility of recreating dinosaurs from their DNA is currently being considered. Personally, I do not think the reality would be very comfortable, and that those who endured dinosaurs would have been very relieved to see them eradicated. However, the search for monsters goes on, and there are quite a few of these reputed to lurk in Welsh waters, as we have seen.

  The traditions of Eryri

  Llyn Dinas

  I am indebted to my friend John E. Williams of Llanrug, Gwynedd, for this story.

  When Myrddin Emrys had built a castle for Gwrtheyrn Gwrthenau, the king ascended the turrets and from that elevation he beheld two dragons fighting in the lake, namely the red dragon and the white dragon. After watching them for a while furiously battling with each other, he called to Myrddin the Druid and asked him what was going on. Myrddin — well-versed in the mysticism and secretive wizardry of all the ages — prophesied what emblem there would be for the nation of the Cymry (the Welsh) or the British for the long centuries ahead (see 16). The red dragon belonged to the nation of the Cymry and the white dragon symbolised the English nation. The two dragons had been hidden for many ages past by the deity Llydd ap Beli in the stronghold of Affaraon in the rocks of Eryri (Snowdonia). It was in the time of Gwrtheyrn that the dragons’ lair was revealed. Nennius says that Myrddin explained the mystery of the dragons and other historians say that the dragons killed each other and that their blood was so copious and flowed so abundantly that it turned the waters of the lake red.

  The local belief is that the dragon seen first in the lake was peaceful and harmless but after the dreadful battle it almost destroyed the other dragon, diving after it to the bottom of the lake; eventually it rose to the surface dragging the body of its enemy on its back, the blood having coloured it bright red. However, despite its horrific wounds it survived, and that is how Pendragon became the cyfenw (title) of the Welsh princes, especially those who overcame their enemies in battle.

  8 Omens, second sight and seers

  General death omens

  Omens of death and disaster were very widespread, particularly in the Celtic countries, where these would seem to have been slightly more detailed and in which birds played a singular rôle. A belief concerning the ‘death bird’ (aderyn corff) in the form of a domestic fowl was the crowing of a cock in the night. The crowing itself was sinister and at once it was necessary for whoever heard it to find out the position the bird’s head was in while crowing. When its head was turned away from that person’s home and faced somebody else’s house, the occupants would return to sleep in the belief that it was a neighbour and not one of their own family who was about to die.

  There were various sounds which warned of approaching death. These varied from shrieking to a tapping or knocking sound, and included the following. For example there was the cyhyraeth, made by a plaintive spirit. The noise was alarming enough to make the hair of the head rise and those who heard it would turn icy cold. It was quite unearthly and very distinctive. There was nothing to be seen but plenty to be heard, to such an extent that dogs would cower and run into some hiding place.

  Another death portent was that of an unnatural knocking, especially the noise of a joiner preparing a coffin for the deceased. This is a very widespread motif in the British Isles. Owls, solitary crows, geese and hens in certain situations and positions could be warnings of imminent death and there seems to have been no limit to the ways in which the superstitious mind could be thus disturbed, to the strong disapproval of the Church which abhorred all such heathen beliefs.

  The corpse candle (cannwyll corff)

  Elias Owen seems to have collected much of his oral tradition himself at a time when such traditions were still very much alive, in the late nineteenth century. Some of the material he published is relatively unknown and a certain proportion had already been published in the same or similar form in various books or journals. The concept of the corpse candle is very widespread in the Celtic countries, and there is little variation in the basic tale. After dark, someone leaves his home to carry out a task in the yard, byre or some other part of the property and he, or perhaps she, notices a light some distance away in a place where there is no building whatsoever. At first this arouses the onlooker’s interest, but gradually this is supplanted by an ever-increasing fear and the feeling that the steady progression of this light is by no means a good omen. When the observer sees the light drawing ever closer to his own property, he is filled with a terrible fear and recognises its ominous character. Invariably he makes for the house and, rushing indoors, shuts the door tight and turns to secure it; as he does so, he sees to his infinite dismay that the light has come through the closed door and is making its way up the stairs of the dwelling. He knows that this is the unequivocal sign that there is to be a death in the house that night. All seems to be well and, not having communicated the vision to any member of his family, but — fearing the worst — he retires to bed and the house is quiet. Next morning, a servant, a member of the family or the man himself is found dead in bed. The corpse candle has done its work. I myself have heard many stories of people in other parts of Britain who have — in order to reach their homes — had to cross tracks over treacherous bogland. The corpse candle is often reported as having been seen by these travellers but to date I have heard no account of these apparitions ending in death.

  Sometimes a more mundane reason lies at the root of the spectral light and its movements. It was a custom, before electric torches were invented, to place a home-made candle (made from melted mutton fat with the wick from rushes dipped in it and allowed to harden) in a jar and sometimes a moving light would be seen crossing the darkness of the peat bog. As it drew nearer, the person walking towards it would be increasingly unnerved, mistaking the light for a corpse candle. When it became clear that the bearer of the light was a neighbour or even a stranger the sense of relief must have been enormous. There are, of course, natural bog phenomena which resemble moving lights, known in England and Scotland as Will o’ the Wisp. I have heard many tales of these from my mother; she, my young daughter and I have witnessed this very phenomenon near Aberfoyle in Perthshire. The manifestation is well described in the very useful Daily Express Encyclopedia (Volume 8) thus:

  Will o’ the wisp, properly called Ignis fatuus, is a pale flickering flame sometimes seen over marshes. It is generally assumed to be due to marsh gas produced by decaying vegetable, and possibly also animal, material spontaneously igniting. It has given rise to much superstition, which is reflected in the name, and also in its alternative name, Jack-o’-Lantern.

  Another name for this phenomenon in Wales is given by E. Owen as Yr Ellyll Dân, which he (writing at the end of the nineteenth century) comments is the common name for Ignis fatuus. Fairies, or the Fair Family, as they we
re sometimes called, were often associated with marshy or rushy places of the kind we have been considering.

  Motley describes the cannwyl corff in a different way, regarding it perhaps as a kind of animal with an independent existence. He notes that this ‘animal’, or ‘Will o’ the Wisp’ as he describes it, tricked any lost travellers to leave the safe path and lured them to their doom in terrible peat bogs or quagmires, by these

  ‘Flying phantoms’ which are generally believed by the ignorant to be evil spirits. Some years ago, the form, face, and wings of the ‘animal’ said to be the nucleus of this light, were circumstantially described in a short paper in the Mirror, which seem to bear the marks of implicit faith on the part of the narrator.

  Motley states that he has frequently seen the cannwyl corff, not only moving over the bogs but also upon the mountain roads of Glamorganshire, seemingly adapting its pace to that of his horse. He notes that the light has an unfortunate tendency to leave the comparative safety of the track and to venture onto the dangerous bog-land, filling the unwary traveller with an overpowering desire to follow it; this inevitably leads to tragedy. Motley himself records that he once witnessed a particular aspect of this ‘evil’ light, apparently during the cold weather of January 1842 when he was riding across a mountain road near Maesteg. This time the horseman’s boots and the fetlocks of the horse seemed to blaze with a blue light and when the rider’s hand was stretched out every finger at once became tipped with fire. He also states that these appearances are called in Welsh ellyl dân or goblin fire. In Glamorganshire, according to Motley, there is a small valley which was said to be widely known for the brightness and the frequency of such appearances, which have caused it to gain the reputation of being haunted by spirits of an even darker nature. On account of this, the valley in question is named the Valley of Spirits. Motley quotes one Allies as reporting that some of the ghostly lights of the Welsh bog-lands were able to point out to travellers the right path across them but goes on to comment: ‘but of these I have never heard’.