Folklore of Wales

by Anne Ross

  The power of turning oneself into a hare at will is considered to be hereditary in certain families in Wales. This form of enchantment is, however, held to be confined to the female sex. Rhys states that his nurse herself belonged to one of these families and was supposed to have inherited its characteristics. However few people believed in this superstition. Nevertheless in Snowdonia there is a certain valley which was not regarded as safe for Rhys to visit to question the inhabitants on the subject. This is always a delicate matter for collectors, especially when they are enquiring about ‘sensitive’ subjects, many of which church and chapel may disapprove. The next story deals with the hare in a more compassionate manner.

  St Monacella (Melangell)

  St Monacella or Melangell, as her name is in Welsh, was the daughter of an Irish king who wished to marry her to an Irish nobleman. Having vowed from her earliest years to retain her virginity and dedicate her life to the church, this proposed union caused her deep distress and she fled by boat to Wales and made her home in a remote and mountainous region of Powys. Her story, which now follows, is one of the most charming of all the Welsh lives of the saints. She was deeply devoted to prayer and one day while thus engaged she heard the baying of hounds and the shouting of human voices approaching her. On looking up she saw huntsmen, led by a handsome young man of noble aspect. He was, as she was to discover, Brochwel Yscythrog, Prince of Powys, pursuing a terrified hare with their hounds. The poor creature, on the point of being savaged by the dogs, who were eager for prey, ran to the beautiful young woman who was deeply engaged in prayer. It ran under her cloak and she protected it there and refused to relinquish it. When the huntsman blew his horn it stuck to his lips, making it clear that she was no ordinary person. Moved by her beauty and her courage the prince called off the hunt and approached the girl, curious to know why one so lively and evidently of noble birth was alone in this remote place. She told him that she was the daughter of a king of Ireland who had determined that she should marry an Irish prince. She, however, intended to devote her life to God and the Church. Impressed as he was by the girl’s great beauty and innocence the prince immediately bestowed upon her all the land round about her and made it possible for her to create a sanctuary there and to found an abbey on the spot where he had chanced upon her. She was filled with joy and accordingly founded an abbey and lived for many years as Abbess, dying at a great age.

  The hare which became her pet and symbol was never again hunted by the prince and hare-hunting was moreover prohibited throughout Powys. She was buried in the neighbouring church which was called Pennant and eventually Pennant Melangell (44). Today the place where her church was built and still stands retains its aura of peace and holiness. I recently visited the site and the church and was deeply moved by the sense of serenity and spirituality with which this beautiful site is imbued. In the little churchyard the quiet graves emanate their own sense of tranquillity.

  44 The church of St Melangell, Powys

  It is worth noting that the churchyard of Pennant Melangell is one example of the extremely interesting circular structures which are found widely scattered in Wales. The underlying purpose of these intriguing circles would seem to have been the overcoming of ancient superstition and belief which was inevitably associated with the great stone circles and individual standing stones (vide chapter 6) which are scattered across the Welsh landscape and date to the Neolithic period of archaeology.

  Other hare stories

  Hares were always regarded as being rather special in my own family. There is something strange and almost human about their level gaze. To see a field full of hares in early spring, all drumming the ground and leaping wildly, is both an exhilarating and somewhat disturbing sight. There are numerous stories in Wales, as elsewhere in the Celtic countries of hares which are really transformed witches. They had the power both to enchant and to disenchant themselves. If one could bruise or injure them, the wound or bruise would be visible on their human forms and so would provide strong evidence against them. There are many such stories. One tells of a witch in hare form who interfered with the churn so the butter would not come (E. Owen p.229). The Rector of Llanycil was told the following story by a servant girl. When she was a servant at Drws-y-Nant near Dolgellau, the milk in the churn would not churn and there seemed to be something in the bottom of the tub, moving. The Rector, on being told this, dismissed it. However when they opened the lid a large hare leaped out and fled. This of course made everything clear — the witch herself was in the churn in the form of a hare.

  This close connection of hare and witch gave a bad name to the hare because when people saw such an animal they could not be sure it was not a witch. Owen says he heard variants of the following tale in different areas of Wales. An old woman, thought to be a witch, lived in a hut in South Caernarfon, near the hilly countryside. Her grandson lived with her. Hare coursing with greyhounds — a cruel sport — was popular there and the boy used to help by startling the hare and so alerting the dogs. However the dogs never caught the hare that the grandson had started up. It was a good day’s sport but it was noticed that the dogs always returned without the hare. This puzzled the hunters so much that they asked a ‘wise’ man what it meant. His opinion was that it was not a hare at all but a witch. He also said only a black greyhound could catch her. It was not easy to get hold of such a dog but at last one was located and bought. The chase started and they were gaining on the hare which was growing distressed. The dog began catching up with the poor creature; when she got to her own cottage and was jumping through the narrow opening in the window, the black greyhound bit her and caused her to bleed. She then sat beside the fire and started to spin and when the hunters entered the cottage only the blood on the floor and her wound gave her away. She was a witch.

  Pigs

  Pigs eaten at the great Celtic feasts were conveniently restored to life, whole and ready to delight the huge appetites of the warriors the next evening. Pigs were revered and devoured; the Classics comment with amazement on the number, size and long-legged build of the Belgic pigs. Kings turned into pigs; the goddess Medb’s nephews eluded her in swine form. Many roads in Wales are named after pigs, especially those crossing the route of the Twrch Trwyth, the magical transformed swine who had swum across the sea from Ireland to Britain; his adventures are recounted in the magnificent tale, Twrch Trwyth. He was hunted by Arthur and was probably a boar-god in origin.

  11 The declining years: summary and conclusion

  With the rapidly changing nature of society on a world-wide scale and the replacement of the old ways and the pleasure taken in archaic stories and traditions, there is less attention paid to the past and the folklore and tales which typified it. Young people on the whole do not wish to remain in the ‘backwaters’ into which many of them were born and passed their childhood. The challenges of the city with its ready pleasures and of distant countries, which can now be reached in so comparatively short a time, have done much to render the old tales and lore superfluous, and so with the old ways. Tales which used to delight now merely irritate and the older people tend to forget stories and legends which they used to memorise after many performances by the skilled chwedleuwyr (storytellers), once an essential of every Welsh community. Modern values are replacing the old codes of neighbourliness and evenings spent in recounting the old ways are replaced by the lure of the television and the charm of cheap package trips by air to far distant lands. Nevertheless, a surprising amount of lore does still exist, but time is running out and is of the essence. Collecting now is a first priority for all who treasure their countreys’ past and future.

  Some stories, especially those attached to landscape, still linger, for example the widespread belief (by no means as fantastic as might be thought) that there are drowned cities or townships or small settlements that have been overwhelmed by waters and can still be glimpsed when the tide is low or there is little water in the reservoirs. Not all of these are purely figments of the imagination.
A few miles from where we live in Wales, there are traces of submerged forests and dwellings just off the coast of Borth and Ynys-las. Over the water at Aberdovey the bells from the drowned church and village are said to ring as a warning that stormy weather is imminent. At low tide one can see the stumps of the old trees and legends about such sites still command an audience. They are both sad and exciting.

  At Talley Lake, Carmarthenshire, there is believed to be a drowned settlement. This is situated close to the ruins of Talley Abbey. It is a common motif which is found widely in Wales and so strong is the oral tradition in all the Celtic countries that it is not impossible that some ancient legend has been handed down for generation after generation. Ultimately there may have been a crannog or lake settlement on the site.

  45 Offa’s Dyke Offediche, Vallum Offae. Constructed by Offa King of Mercia in the eighth century. From the north the Dyke leaves the Gwynedd of that day to cross the valley of the river Dyfrdwy (Dee) and then runs through Powys, crossing the valley of the river Hafren (Severn) and meeting the river Wy (Wye) before reaching the Severn Estuary to the east of Gwent

  46 Asser, the eighth-century Welsh scholar, bishop of Sherborne and biographer of King Alfred, wrote: ‘In modern times in Mercia there ruled a mighty king called Offa, who struck all the kings and regions around him with terror. He it was who ordered the great dyke to be constructed between Wales and Mercia, stretching from Sea to Sea.’ Offa not only struck terror. He also struck some of the finest early medieval coins. Chris Rudd.

  The Hendy head (24) (see also chapter 6)

  It is most unusual to find an ancient rite and tradition associated with a head cult preserved orally in the way in which the story of the Hendy head has been preserved. This remarkable stone carving formed the focal point for what we must call veneration right down to recent years and there is nothing to suggest that it has been abandoned. Indeed, the opposite would seem to be the case, and now that the people involved have decided to speak openly about it, it seems that even young people have become attracted to it. Strangely, this is still the case in remoter parts of Derbyshire and Cheshire, where the old guardians of the archaic traditions there, feeling that there is little future for traditional lore and its tabus, are more ready to speak freely about things which, after all, are part of all our unwritten history.

  A leading member of the cult which centred on the Hendy head was, several years ago, courageous enough to talk about the old beliefs. Briefly, this is a summary of his account. The chief focus of the cult was Gwydion, son of Dôn, a magician in the Mabinogi of Math. The narrator recognises that those who practised the cult and were followers of Gwydion were carrying on an old Celtic form of worship. It had to be carried out in secret for fear of incurring the anger and hostility of the chapel, of which some of the participants were themselves members. This clarifies the fact that for many there was no conflict between respect for the old gods and for the Church. Gwydion, who was much associated with bardic excellence and was one of the ‘three great astrologers of the island of Prydein’ (Britain), had great powers of divination. In the Mabinogion he is a bard and an enchanter and he is one of the famous prisoners of Prydein; under the name of Gweir he was imprisoned in the Otherworld where he became a poet. In fact he was a seer, a prophet and, as we have seen, a poet.

  In Anglesey they believed that Gwydion had three sons, namely Eog Agor, Eog Ellyll and Eog Gorach. Eog Agor was also known as Eog Altor, and he was represented by a stone head. Eog Ellyll was associated with the Tylwyth Teg (the fairies). Eog Gorach represented the underground or the bottom of the sea. Some people were able to communicate with these supernatural beings who were believed to inhabit another dimension. They had quite complex beliefs which are difficult to précis and to give them in full would take up far too great a share of the space available here. One important aspect of the cult was that the people in it believed they did not die but simply went through a vortex to another world: ‘That’s our belief … and you can come and go, backwards and forwards, through that vortex.’ Apparently those who went through this vortex remained the same in appearance and did not age. The informant was taken to see Eog Agor, as the Hendy head was called. Its location was changed every 56 years and at that time it was in one of the outbuildings in Hendy. When I saw it, it sat impassively upon the wall of Hendy Farm and it made a very powerful impact upon me. I have seen and closely studied numerous heads of stone and other substances but I do not think I have ever come across one which so exuded latent power, and real presence.

  The Anglesey cult was said to belong to the ‘old’ religion, which I take to be Druidism. The people in this religion believed that one could be accepted into it as children. They all had particular duties. The informant’s duties were to learn the proclamations as to how to travel from one place to another following the ancient routes. These routes were exceedingly numerous and the informant found it impossible to memorise them all. The members of the cult now recognise the Celtic nature of the ‘old religion’. To us the whole thing is rather complex and difficult to understand. Yet it is obvious that it has to do with ancient cults and deities which have clearly, in many areas, where there has been a long tradition of folk recitation, never been lost from the minds and memories of the people, who meet periodically to commemorate them by story and by comparanda. Strangely and unusually in the case of ancient cults and beliefs, the number of followers seems to be increasing all the time and it is, surprisingly, the young people who are now joining. They seem to be searching for their roots, and their roots lie in these ancient beliefs. The same dilemma applies to these people as it does to some of the people who have similar beliefs in other areas of Britain.

  We learn that there are three very important wells in Anglesey: Ffynnon Oer, ‘the cold well’, Ffynnon Du, ‘the black well’, and Ffynnon Marw, ‘the well of the dead’. Lakes and pools were very important in these beliefs. Ancient measurements would seem to hold a great significance for this religion and ages are calculated by the stages of the moon. Some of the information is very difficult to understand although one can always glimpse the truth which underlies it. The stwffwl cist uffern was a hollow tube some 4in long and made of iron, which was inserted into the mouth of the stone head. It contained a small scroll marking acceptance to the Circle, on which is written, in Welsh of course, the following:

  O Gwydion protect your servant, he who was with you in the battle of the Shores of Llifon. Keeper of the secret routes, protect him so that he might be saved from the betrayal [i.e. Christianity] so that he can return through the vortex when he is ready.

  He was born in the presence of the Black Well, three ages and thirteen circuits after the great crisis. This is affirmed before one hundred less fifty of the suitable sisters on the shores of the perfect lake.

  After further comments and details about his own beliefs the informant ends in a somewhat moving and dignified way. When asked the question ‘How do you react to people today who think that much of what you claim is just not possible?’, he replied, ‘This has happened to me frequently. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. If a Christian told me that Christ was crucified and arose on the third day I would say ‘‘I don’t believe it!’’ So what? They still believe, and I believe in my religion in the same way. These are our gods, this is our belief. We do not claim to be right, we do not say that we haven’t been wrong. We are ordinary people who have trodden a different path to others.’

  Conclusion

  The folklore of Wales is almost inexhaustible. It is a treasure-house spilling over with lore of every kind; deeply embedded Welsh traditions are inextricably entangled with the customs and beliefs, folklore and traditions of the four nations which make Ynys Prydein and the island of Ireland, our Celtic islands, what they are — a brave stronghold, a land of strict codes and a sometimes less than honourable history. But a land always true to itself. Four languages are still spoken here and we must cherish this situation which dedicated scholars and others are wor
king so hard to preserve — fighting against a tide of technological advance and a desire to unify and so ‘deculturise’ our island’s long and fiercely defended individuality. The Celtic languages are complex and beautiful and stem from origins now beyond recall. This singular quality is revealed in many ways, but perhaps never more so than in the prolific folklore and sophisticated literatures of Celtic Britain and Ireland.

  The Welsh countryside, bounded on the east by the deep scar of the dyke built in the eighth century AD by King Offa of Mercia (45 & 46) — surely a strong political statement — is open, on the glorious western seaboard, to easy access from our Irish kinsmen and neighbours. In the past, there were less welcome visitations from strangers from afar, marauders and invaders, many of whom settled here and gradually became integrated into the Welsh way of life. All this belongs, however, to the troubled realms of history. This book is but an attempt to outline some small part of the rich heritage of Welsh folklore. There are still many Welsh-speaking people with their own inherited folk traditions, and the region where I live, in wild Mid-Wales, is very rich in this respect. Here the ancient oral tradition is still kept alive in teaching the ancient art of the telyn, harp, and the complex discipline of the cywyddau, Welsh alliterative verses. Each of these disciplines, and many others orally transmitted, plays a major rôle in the annual Eisteddfodau which bravely strive to keep alive the oral traditions of Wales. In this same region of Mid-Wales the evil eye can still assert its strange power and souls of the departed are yet believed to manifest themselves in bird form. The future for the Welsh tradition is thus by no means bleak and it is up to each and every one of us who live in and love Wales to make such contribution as we may to its preservation.