Welsh Folk Lore

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_Y Fuwch Gyfeiliorn_. _The Stray Cow_.

The history of the Fairy Stray Cow appears in _Y Brython_, vol. iii., pp.
183-4. The writer of the story states that he obtained his materials
from a Paper by the late Dr. Pugh, Penhelyg, Aberdovey. The article
alluded to by Gwilym Droed-ddu, the writer of the account in the
_Brython_, appeared in the _Archaeologia Cambrensis_ for 1853, pp. 201-5.
The tale, as given by Dr. Pugh, is reproduced by Professor Rhys in his
Welsh Fairy Tales, and it is much less embellished in English than in
Welsh. I will quote as much of the Doctor's account as refers to the
Stray Cow.

"A shrewd old hill farmer (Thomas Abergroes by name), well skilled in the
folk-lore of the district, informed me that, in years gone by, though
when, exactly, he was too young to remember, those dames (_Gwragedd
Annwn_) were wont to make their appearance, arrayed in green, in the
neighbourhood of Llyn Barfog, chiefly at eventide, accompanied by their
kine and hounds, and that, on quiet summer nights in particular, these
ban-hounds were often to be heard in full cry, pursuing their prey--the
souls of doomed men dying without baptism and penance--along the upland
township of Cefnrhosucha. Many a farmer had a sight of their comely,
milk-white kine; many a swain had his soul turned to romance and poesy by
a sudden vision of themselves in the guise of damsels arrayed in green,
and radiant in beauty and grace; and many a sportsman had his path
crossed by their white hounds of supernatural fleetness and comeliness,
the _Cwn Annwn_; but never had any one been favoured with more than a
passing view of either, till an old farmer residing at Dyssyrnant, in the
adjoining valley of Dyffryn Gwyn, became at last the lucky captor of one
of their milk-white kine. The acquaintance which the _Gwartheg y Llyn_,
the kine of the lake, had formed with the farmer's cattle, like the loves
of the angels for the daughters of men, became the means of capture; and
the farmer was thereby enabled to add the mystic cow to his own herd, an
event in all cases believed to be most conducive to the worldly
prosperity of him who should make so fortunate an acquisition. Never was
there such a cow, never were there such calves, never such milk and
butter, or cheese; and the fame of the _Fuwch Gyfeiliorn_, the stray cow,
was soon spread abroad through that central part of Wales known as the
district of Rhwng y ddwy Afon, from the banks of the Mawddach to those of
the Dofwy (Dovey)--from Aberdiswnwy to Abercorris. The farmer, from a
small beginning, rapidly became, like Job, a man of substance, possessed
of thriving herds of cattle--a very patriarch among the mountains. But,
alas! wanting Job's restraining grace, his wealth made him proud, his
pride made him forget his obligation to the elfin cow, and fearing she
might soon become too old to be profitable, he fattened her for the
butcher, and then even she did not fail to distinguish herself, for a
more monstrously fat beast was never seen. At last the day of slaughter
came--an eventful day in the annals of a mountain farm--the killing of a
fat cow, and such a monster of obesity. No wonder all the neighbours
were gathered together to see the sight. The old farmer looked upon the
preparations in self-pleased importance; the butcher felt he was about no
common feat of his craft, and, baring his arm, he struck the blow--not
now fatal, for before even a hair had been injured, his arm was
paralysed, the knife dropped from his hand, and the whole company was
electrified by a piercing cry that awakened an echo in a dozen hills, and
made the welkin ring again; and lo and behold! the whole assemblage saw a
female figure, clad in green, with uplifted arms, standing on one of the
rocks overhanging Llyn Barfog, and heard her calling with a voice loud as
thunder:--

'Dere di velen Einion,
Cyrn cyveiliorn--braith y Llyn,
A'r voel Dodin,
Codwch, dewch adre.'

'Come thou Einion's yellow one,
Stray horns--speckled one of the Lake,
And the hornless Dodin,
Arise, come home.'

And no sooner were these words of power uttered, than the original lake
cow, and all her progeny to the third and fourth generations, were in
full flight towards the heights of Llyn Barfog, as if pursued by the evil
one. Self-interest quickly roused the farmer, who followed in pursuit,
till, breathless and panting, he gained an eminence overlooking the lake,
but with no better success than to behold the green-attired dame
leisurely descending mid-lake, accompanied by the fugitive cows, and her
calves formed in a circle around her; they tossed their tails, she waved
her hands in scorn, as much as to say, 'You may catch us, my friend, if
you can,' as they disappeared beneath the dark waters of the lake,
leaving only the yellow water-lily to mark the spot where they vanished,
and to perpetuate the memory of this strange event. Meanwhile, the
farmer looked with rueful countenance upon the spot where the elfin herd
disappeared, and had ample leisure to deplore the effects of his
greediness, as with them also departed the prosperity which had hitherto
attended him, and he became impoverished to a degree below his original
circumstances, and in his altered circumstances few felt pity for one
who, in the noontide flow of prosperity, had shown himself so far
forgetful of favours received, as to purpose slaying his benefactor."
Thus ends Dr. Pugh's account of the Stray Cow.

A tale very much like the preceding is recorded of a Scotch farmer. It
is to be found in vol. ii., pp. 45-6, of Croker's _Fairy Legends of
Ireland_, and is as follows:--

"A farmer who lived near a river had a cow which regularly every year, on
a certain day in May, left the meadow and went slowly along the banks of
the river till she came opposite to a small island overgrown with bushes;
she went into the water and waded or swam towards the island, where she
passed some time, and then returned to her pasture. This continued for
several years; and every year, at the usual season, she produced a calf
which perfectly resembled the elf bull. One afternoon, about Martinmas,
the farmer, when all the corn was got in and measured, was sitting at his
fireside, and the subject of the conversation was, which of the cattle
should be killed for Christmas. He said: 'We'll have the cow; she is
well fed, and has rendered good services in ploughing, and filled the
stalls with fine oxen, now we will pick her old bones.' Scarcely had he
uttered these words when the cow with her young ones rushed through the
walls as if they had been made of paper, went round the dunghill,
bellowed at each of her calves, and then drove them all before her,
according to their age, towards the river, where they got into the water,
reached the island, and vanished among the bushes. They were never more
heard of."

_Ceffyl y Dwfr_. _The Water Horse_.

The superstition respecting the water-horse, in one form or other, is
common to the Celtic race. He was supposed to intimate by preternatural
lights and noises the death of those about to perish by water, and it was
vulgarly believed that he even assisted in drowning his victims. The
water-horse was thought to be an evil spirit, who, assuming the shape of
a horse, tried to allure the unwary to mount him, and then soaring into
the clouds, or rushing over mountain, and water, would suddenly vanish
into air or mist, and precipitate his rider to destruction.

The Welsh water-horse resembles the Kelpie of the Scotch. Jamieson,
under the word _Kelpie_, in his _Scottish Dictionary_, quoting from
various authors, as is his custom, says:--

"This is described as an aquatic demon, who drowns not only men but
ships. The ancient Northern nations believed that he had the form of a
horse; and the same opinion is still held by the vulgar in Iceland.

"Loccenius informs us that in Sweden the vulgar are still afraid of his
power, and that swimmers are on their guard against his attacks; being
persuaded that he suffocates and carries off those whom he catches under
water." "Therefore," adds this writer, "it would seem that ferry-men
warn those who are crossing dangerous places in some rivers not so much
as to mention his name; lest, as they say, they should meet with a storm
and be in danger of losing their lives. Hence, doubtless, has this
superstition originated; that, in these places formerly, during the time
of paganism, those who worshipped their sea-deity _Nekr_, did so, as it
were with a sacred silence, for the reason already given."

The Scotch Kelpie closely resembled the Irish Phoocah, or Poocah, a
mischievous being, who was particularly dreaded on the night of All
Hallow E'en, when it was thought he had especial power; he delighted to
assume the form of a black horse, and should any luckless wight bestride
the fiendish steed, he was carried through brake and mire, over water and
land at a bewildering pace. Woe-betide the timid rider, for the Poocah
made short work of such an one, and soon made him kiss the ground. But
to the bold fearless rider the Poocah submitted willingly, and became his
obedient beast of burden.

The following quotation from the _Tales of the Cymry_, p. 151, which is
itself an extract from Mrs. S. C. Hall's _Ireland_, graphically describes
the Irish water fiend:--

"The great object of the Poocah seems to be to obtain a rider, and
then he is in all his most malignant glory. Headlong he dashes
through briar and brake, through flood and fall, over mountain,
valley, moor, and river indiscriminately; up and down precipice is
alike to him, provided he gratifies the malevolence that seems to
inspire him. He bounds and flies over and beyond them, gratified by
the distress, and utterly reckless and ruthless of the cries, and
danger, and suffering of the luckless wight who bestrides him."

Sometimes the Poocah assumed the form of a goat, an eagle, or of some
other animal, and leaped upon the shoulders of the unwary traveller, and
clung to him, however frantic were the exertions to get rid of the
monster.

Allied to the water-horse were the horses upon which magicians in various
lands were supposed to perform their aerial journeys.

It was believed in Wales that the clergy could, without danger, ride the
water-horse, and the writer has heard a tale of a clergyman, who, when
bestride one of these horses, had compassion on his parish clerk, who was
trudging by his side, and permitted him to mount behind him, on condition
that he should keep silence when upon the horse's back. For awhile the
loquacious parish clerk said no word, but ere long the wondrous pace of
the horse caused him to utter a pious ejaculation, and no sooner were the
words uttered than he was thrown to the ground; his master kept his seat,
and, on parting with the fallen parish official, shouted out, "Serve you
right, why did you not keep your noisy tongue quiet?"

The weird legends and gloomy creations of the Celt assume a mild and
frolicsome feature when interpreted by the Saxon mind. The malevolent
Poocah becomes in England the fun-loving Puck, who delights in playing
his pranks on village maidens, and who says:--

I am that merry wanderer of the night;
Jest to Oberon, and make him smile,
When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile,
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal;
And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
In very likeness of a roasted crab;
And when she drinks against her lips I bob,
And on her withered dew-lap pour the ale.

_Midsummer Night's Dream_, Act I, Sc. I.

The _Ceffyl-y-Dwfr_ was very different to Chaucer's wonderful brass
horse, which could be ridden, without harm, by a sleeping rider:--

This steed of brasse, and easilie and well
Can in the space of a day naturel,
This is to say, in foure and twenty houres,
Where so ye lists, in drought or elles showers,
Baren yours bodie into everie place,
In which your hearte willeth for to pace,
Withouten wemme of you through foul or fair,
Or if you liste to flee as high in th' aire
As doth an eagle when him liste to soare,
This same steed shall bear you evermore,
Withouten harm, till ye be there you leste,
Though that ye sleepen on his back or reste;
And turn againe with writhing of a pinne,
He that it wroughte he coulde many a gin,
He waited many a constellation,
Ere he had done this operation.

_Chaucer's Squire's Tale_, 137-152.

The rider of the magic horse was made acquainted with the charm that
secured its obedience, for otherwise he took an aerial ride at his peril.
This kind of invention is oriental, but it is sufficiently like the
Celtic in outline to indicate that all figments of the kind had
undoubtedly a common origin.

I have seen it somewhere stated, but where I cannot recall to mind, that,
the Water Horses did, in olden times, sport, on the Welsh mountains, with
the puny native ponies, before they became a mixed breed.

It was believed that the initiated could conjure up the River Horse by
shaking a magic bridle over the pool wherein it dwelt.

There is much curious information respecting this mythic animal in the
_Tales of the Cymry_ and from this work I have culled many thoughts.

_The Torrent Spectre_.

This spectre was supposed to be an old man, or malignant spirit, who
directed, and ruled over, the mountain torrents. He delighted in
devastating the lands. His appearance was horrible to behold, and it was
believed that in the midst of the rushing stream his terrible form could
be discerned apparently moving with the torrent, but in reality remaining
stationary. Now he would raise himself half out of the water, and ascend
like a mist half as high as the near mountain, and then he would dwindle
down to the size of a man. His laugh accorded with his savage visage,
and his long hair stood on end, and a mist always surrounded him.

Davies, in his _Mythology of the Druids_, says that believers in this
strange superstition are yet to be met with in Glamorganshire. Davies
was born in the parish of Llanvareth, Radnorshire, in 1756, and died
January 1st, 1831.

_Gwrach y Rhibyn_, _or Hag of the Mist_.

Another supernatural being associated with water was the _Gwrach y
Rhibyn_. She was supposed to reside in the dripping fog, but was seldom,
if ever seen. It was believed that her shriek foretold misfortune, if
not death, to the hearer, and some even thought that, in a shrill tenor,
and lengthened voice, she called the person shortly to die by name.

_Yr Hen Chrwchwd_, or The Old Humpbacked, a fiend in the shape of an old
woman, is thought to be identical with this _Gwrach y Rhibyn_.

In Carmarthenshire the spirit of the mist is represented, not as a
shrivelled up old woman, but as a hoary headed old man, who seats himself
on the hill sides, just where the clouds appear to touch them, and he is
called _Y Brenhin Llwyd_, or The Grey King. I know not what functions
this venerable personage, or king of the mist, performed, unless it were,
that he directed the mist's journey through the air.

_Mermaids and Mermen_.

It is said that these fabulous beings frequented the sea-coasts of Wales
to the great danger of the inhabitants. The description of the Welsh
mermaid was just as it is all over the world; she is depicted as being
above the waist a most lovely young woman, whilst below she is like a
fish with fins and spreading tail. Both mermen and mermaids were fond,
it is said, of combing their long hair, and the siren-like song of the
latter was thought to be so seductive as to entice men to destruction.
It was believed that beautiful mermaids fell in love with comely young
men and even induced them to enter their abodes in the depth of the sea.

I heard the following tale, I believe in Carnarvonshire, but I have no
notes of it, and write from memory.

A man captured a mermaid, and took her home to his house, but she did
nothing but beg and beg to be allowed to return to the sea, but
notwithstanding her entreaties her captor kept her safe enough in a room,
and fastened the door so that she could not escape. She lingered several
days, pitifully beseeching the man to release her, and then she died.
But ever after that event a curse seemed to rest upon the man, for he
went from bad to worse, and died miserably poor.

It was always considered most unlucky to do anything unkind to these
beings. Fear acted as a powerful incentive, in days of old, to generous
conduct. For it was formerly believed that vengeance ever overtook the
cruel.

An Isle of Man legend, related by Waldron, in his account of the Isle of
Man, and reproduced by Croker, vol. i., p. 56, states, that some persons
captured a mermaid, and carried her to a house and treated her tenderly,
but she refused meat and drink, neither would she speak, when addressed,
though they knew these creatures could speak. Seeing that she began to
look ill, and fearing some great calamity would befall the island if she
died, they opened the door, after three days, and she glided swiftly to
the sea side. Her keeper followed at a distance and saw her plunge into
the sea, where she was met by a great number of her own species, one of
whom asked her what she had seen among those on land, to which she
answered, "Nothing, but that they are so ignorant as to throw away the
very water they boil their eggs in."

STORIES OF SATAN, GHOSTS, ETC.

Although Max Muller, in _Chips from a German Workshop_, vol. ii., p. 238,
states that "The Aryan nations had no Devil," this certainly cannot at
present be affirmed of that branch of the Celtic race which inhabits
Wales. In the Principality the Devil occupies a prominent position in
the foreground of Welsh Folk-Lore. He is, however, generally depicted as
inferior in cunning and intellect to a bright-witted Welshman, and when
worsted in a contest he acknowledges his inferiority by disappearing in a
ball or wheel of fire. Men, it was supposed, could sell themselves to
the Evil One for a term of years, but they easily managed to elude the
fulfilment of the contract, for there was usually a loop-hole by which
they escaped from the clutches of the stupid Devil. For instance, a man
disposes of his soul for riches, pleasures, and supernatural knowledge
and power, which he is to enjoy for a long number of years, and in the
contract it is stipulated that the agreement holds good if the man is
buried either _in_ or _outside_ the church. To all appearance the victim
is irretrievably lost, but no, after enjoying all the fruits of his
contract, he cheats the Devil of his due, by being buried _in_ or _under_
the church walls.

In many tales Satan is made to act a part detrimental to his own
interests; thus Sabbath breakers, card players, and those who practised
divination, have been frightened almost to death by the appearance of the
Devil, and there and then, being terrified by the horrible aspect of the
enemy, they commenced a new life. This thought comes out strongly in _Y
Bardd Cwsg_. The poet introduces one of the fallen angels as appearing
to act the part given to the Devil, in the play of Faust, when it was
being performed at Shrewsbury, and this appearance drove the frequenters
of the theatre from their pleasures to their prayers. His words are:--

"Dyma walch, ail i hwnw yn y Mwythig, y dydd arall, ar ganol interlud
Doctor Ffaustus; a rhai . . . pan oeddynt brysuraf, ymddangosodd y diawl
ei hun i chwareu ei bart ac wrth hynny gyrodd bawb o'i bleser i'w
weddiau."

In English this is:--"Here's a fine fellow, second to that at Shrewsbury,
who the other day, when the interlude of Doctor Faustus was being acted,
in the middle of the play, all being busily engaged, the devil himself
appeared to take his own part, and by so doing, drove everyone from
pleasure to prayer."

The absurd conduct of the Evil Spirit on this occasion is held up to
ridicule by the poet, but the idea, which is an old one, that demons
were, by a superior power, obliged to frustrate their own designs, does
not seem to have been taken into consideration by him. He depicts the
Devil as a strange mixture of stupidity and remorseless animosity. But
this, undoubtedly, was the then general opinion. The bard revels in
harrowing descriptions of the tortures of the damned in Gehenna--the
abode of the Arch-fiend and his angels. This portion of his work was in
part the offspring of his own fervid imagination; but in part it might
have been suggested to him by what had been written already on the
subject; and from the people amongst whom he lived he could have, and did
derive, materials for these descriptions. In any case he did not
outrage, by any of his horrible depictions of Pandemonium, the sentiments
of his fellow countrymen, and his delineation of Satan was in full accord
with the popular opinion of his days. The bard did not create but gave
utterance to the fleeting thoughts which then prevailed respecting the
Devil. Indeed there does not seem to be in Wales any distinct attributes
ascribed to Satan, which are not also believed to be his specialities in
other countries. His personal appearance is the same in most places. He
is described as being black, with horns, and hoofs and tail, he breathes
fire and brimstone, and he is accompanied with the clank of chains. Such
was the uncouth form which Satan was supposed to assume, and such was the
picture drawn of him formerly in Wales.

There is a strong family likeness in this description between Satan and
_Pan_, who belongs to Greek and Egyptian mythology. Pan had two small
horns on his head, his nose was flat, and his legs, thighs, tail, and
feet were those of a goat. His face is described as ruddy, and he is
said to have possessed many qualities which are also ascribed to Satan.
His votaries were not encumbered with an exalted code of morality.

The _Fauni_, certain deities of Italy, are also represented as having the
legs, feet, and ears of goats, and the rest of the body human, and the
_Satyri_ of the Greeks are also described as having the feet and legs of
goats, with short horns on the head, and the whole body covered with
thick hair. These demigods revelled in riot and lasciviousness. The
satyrs attended upon Bacchus, and made themselves conspicuous in his
orgies. The Romans called their satyrs Fauni, Panes, and Sylvani.

It is difficult to ascertain whether the Celt of Britain obtained through
the Romans their gross notions of the material body of Satan, or whether
it was in later times that they became possessed of this idea. It may
well have been that the Fauni, and other disreputable deities of the
conquerors of the world, on the introduction of Christianity were looked
upon as demons, and their forms consequently became fit representations
of the Spirit of Evil, from whom they differed little, if any, in general
attributes. In this way god after god would be removed from their
pedestals in the world's pantheon, and would be relegated to the regions
occupied by the great enemy of all that is pure, noble, and good in
mankind. Thus the god of one age would become the devil of the
succeeding age, retaining, nevertheless, by a cruel irony, the same form
and qualities in his changed position that he had in his exalted state.

It is by some such reasoning as the preceding that we can account for the
striking personal resemblance between the Satan of mediaeval and later
times and the mythical deities already mentioned.

Reference has been made to the rustic belief that from his mouth Satan
emits fire and brimstone, and here again we observe traces of classic
lore. The fabulous monsters, Typhaeus, or Typhon, and Chimaera, are
probably in this matter his prototypes. It is said that real flames of
devouring fire darted from the mouth and eyes of Typhon, and that he
uttered horrible yells, like the shrieks of different animals, and
Chimaera is described as continually vomiting flames.

Just as the gods of old could assume different shapes, so could Satan.
The tales which follow show that he could change himself at will into the
form of a lovely woman, a mouse, a pig, a black dog, a cock, a fish, a
headless horse, and into other animals or monstrous beings. But the form
which, it is said, he usually assumed to enable him to escape when
discovered in his intrigues was a ball or hoop of fire.

The first series of tales which I shall relate depict Satan as taking a
part in the pastimes of the people.

_Satan Playing Cards_.

A good many years ago I travelled from Pentrevoelas to Yspytty in company
with Mr. Lloyd, the then vicar of the latter parish, who, when crossing
over a bridge that spanned a foaming mountain torrent, called my
attention to the spot, and related to me the following tale connected
with the place:--

A man was returning home late one night from a friend's house, where he
had spent the evening in card playing, and as he was walking along he was
joined by a gentleman, whose conversation was very interesting. At last
they commenced talking about card playing, and the stranger invited the
countryman to try his skill with him, but as it was late, and the man
wanted to go home, he declined, but when they were on the bridge his
companion again pressed him to have a game on the parapet, and proceeded
to take out of his pocket a pack of cards, and at once commenced dealing
them out; consequently, the man could not now refuse to comply with the
request. With varying success game after game was played, but ultimately
the stranger proved himself the more skilful player. Just at this
juncture a card fell into the water; and in their excitement both players
looked over the bridge after it, and the countryman saw to his horror
that his opponent's head, reflected in the water, had on it _two horns_.
He immediately turned round to have a careful look at his companion; he,
however, did not see him, but in his place was a _ball of fire_, which
flashed away from his sight.

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