Welsh Folk Lore

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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 the _cloven foot_ and not the _horned head_ was
detected. The scene of this tale is laid in the parish of Rhuddlan near
Rhyl.

_Satan Playing Cards at a Merry Meeting_.

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 Henafon 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.

_Satan Playing Cards on Rhyd-y-Cae Bridge_, _Pentrevoelas_.

"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 lou groes, daeth boneddwr i'w gyfarfod, ag
aeth yn ymgom rhyngddynt. Gofynodd y boneddwr iddo chware' _match_ o
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'
_match_ ar 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 lan. 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 dan rhyngddo a 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 a
_wheel of fire_, and departed bowling towards Plas Iolyn, and Bob went
home to Gilar.

_Satan Snatching a Man up into the Air_.

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 dan; 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
tan, 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.

_Satan frightening a Man for gathering Nuts on Sunday_.

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.

_Satan taking possession of a man who fished on Sunday_.

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.

_Satan appearing in many forms to a Man who Travelled on Sunday_.

I received the following tale from my deceased friend, the Rev. J. L.
Davies, late Rector of Llangynog, near Llanfyllin, Montgomeryshire, and
he obtained it from William Davies, the man who figures in the story.

As a preface to the tale, it should be stated that it was usual, some
years ago, for Welsh labourers to proceed to the harvest in England,
which was earlier there than in Wales, and after that was finished, they
hastened homewards to be in time for their own harvest. These migratory
Welsh harvestmen are not altogether extinct in our days, but about forty
years ago they were much more common than they are at present. Then
respectable farmers' sons with sickles on their backs, and well filled
wallets over their shoulders, went in companies to the early English
Lowlands to hire themselves as harvest labourers. My tale now
commences:--

William Davies, Penrhiw, near Aberystwyth, went to England for the
harvest, and after having worked there about three weeks, he returned
home alone, with all possible haste, as he knew that his father-in-law's
fields were by this time ripe for the sickle. He, however, failed to
accomplish the journey before Sunday; but he determined to travel on
Sunday, and thus reach home on Sunday night to be ready to commence
reaping on Monday morning. His conscience, though, would not allow him
to be at rest, but he endeavoured to silence its twittings by saying to
himself that he had with him no clothes to go to a place of worship. He
stealthily, therefore, walked on, feeling very guilty every step he took,
and dreading to meet anyone going to chapel or church. By Sunday evening
he had reached the hill overlooking Llanfihangel Creuddyn, where he was
known, so he determined not to enter the village until after the people
had gone to their respective places of worship; he therefore sat down on
the hill side and contemplated the scene below. He saw the people leave
their houses for the house of God, he heard their songs of praise, and
now he thinks he could venture to descend and pass through the village
unobserved. Luckily no one saw him going through the village, and now he
has entered a barley field, and although still uneasy in mind, he feels
somewhat reassured, and steps on quickly. He had not proceeded far in
the barley field before he found himself surrounded by a large number of
small pigs. He was not much struck by this, though he thought it strange
that so many pigs should be allowed to wander about on the Sabbath day.
The pigs, however, came up to him, stared at him, grunted, and scampered
away. Before he had traversed the barley field he saw approaching him an
innumerable number of mice, and these, too, surrounded him, only,
however, to stare at him, and then to disappear. By this Davies began to
be frightened, and he was almost sorry that he had broken the Sabbath day
by travelling with his pack on his back instead of keeping the day holy.
He was not now very far from home, and this thought gave him courage and
on he went. He had not proceeded any great distance from the spot where
the mice had appeared when he saw a large greyhound walking before him on
the pathway. He anxiously watched the dog, but suddenly it vanished out
of his sight. By this the poor man was thoroughly frightened, and many
and truly sincere were his regrets that he had broken the Sabbath; but on
he went. He passed through the village of Llanilar without any further
fright. He had now gone about three miles from Llanfihangel along the
road that goes to Aberystwyth, and he had begun to dispel the fear that
had seized him, but to his horror he saw something approach him that made
his hair stand on end. He could not at first make it out, but he soon
clearly saw that it was a horse that was madly dashing towards him. He
had only just time to step on to the ditch, when, horrible to relate, a
headless white horse rushed past him. His limbs shook and the
perspiration stood out like beads on his forehead. This terrible spectre
he saw when close to Tan'rallt, but he dared not turn into the house, as
he was travelling on Sunday, so on he went again, and heartily did he
wish himself at home. In fear and dread he proceeded on his journey
towards Penrhiw. The most direct way from Tan'rallt to Penrhiw was a
pathway through the fields, and Davies took this pathway, and now he was
in sight of his home, and he hastened towards the boundary fence between
Tan'rallt and Penrhiw. He knew that there was a gap in the hedge that he
could get through, and for this gap he aimed; he reached it, but further
progress was impossible, for in the gap was a lady lying at full length,
and immovable, and stopping up the gap entirely. Poor Davies was now
more thoroughly terrified than ever. He sprang aside, he screamed, and
then he fainted right away. As soon as he recovered consciousness, he,
on his knees, and in a loud supplicating voice, prayed for pardon. His
mother and father-in-law heard him, and the mother knew the voice and
said, "It is my Will; some mishap has overtaken him." They went to him
and found he was so weak that he could not move, and they were obliged to
carry him home, where he recounted to them his marvellous experience.

My clerical friend, who was intimately acquainted with William Davies,
had many conversations with him about his Sunday journey, and he argued
the matter with him, and tried to persuade him that he had seen nothing,
but that it was his imagination working on a nervous temperament that had
created all his fantasies. He however failed to convince him, for Davies
affirmed that it was no hallucination, but that what he had seen that
Sunday was a punishment for his having broken the Fourth Commandment. It
need hardly be added that Davies ever afterwards was a strict observer of
the Day of Rest.

The following tale, taken from _A Relation of Apparitions_, etc., by the
Rev. Edmund Jones, inculcates the same lesson as that taught by the
previous tales. I will give the tale a title.

_The Evil Spirit appearing to a Man who frequented Alehouses on Sunday_.

Jones writes as follows:--"W. J. was once a Sabbath-breaker at _Risca_
village, where he frequently used to play and visit the alehouses on the
Sabbath day, and there stay till late at night. On returning homeward he
heard something walking behind him, and turning to see what it was he
could see the likeness of a man walking by his side; he could not see his
face, and was afraid to look much at it, fearing it was an evil spirit,
as it really was, therefore he did not wish it good night. This dreadful
dangerous apparition generally walked by the left side of him. It
afterwards appeared like a great mastiff dog, which terrified him so much
that he knew not where he was. After it had gone about half a mile, it
transformed itself into a great fire, as large as a small field, and
resembled the noise which a fire makes in burning gorse."

This vision seems to have had the desired effect on W. J. for we are told
that he _was once_ a Sabbath breaker, the inference being, that he was
not one when the Rev. Edmund Jones wrote the above narrative.

Tales of this kind could be multiplied to almost any extent, but more
need not be given. The one idea that runs through them all is that Satan
has appeared, and may appear again, to Sabbath breakers, and therefore
those who wish to avoid coming in contact with him should keep the
Sabbath day holy.

_Satan Outwitted_.

In the preceding tales the Evil One is depicted as an agent in the
destruction of his own kingdom. He thus shows his obtuseness, or his
subordination to a higher power. In the story that follows, he is
outwitted by a Welshman. Many variants of this tale are found in many
countries. It is evident from this and like stories, that it was
believed the Spirit of Evil could easily be circumvented by an
intelligent human being.

The tale is taken from _Y Brython_, vol. v., p. 192. I when a lad often
heard the story related, and the scene is laid in Trefeglwys,
Montgomeryshire, a parish only a few miles distant from the place where I
spent my childhood. The writer in _Y Brython_, speaking of _Ffinant_,
says that this farm is about a mile from Trefeglwys, on the north side of
the road leading to Newtown. He then proceeds as follows:--

"Mae hen draddodiad tra anhygoel yn perthyn i'r lie hwn. Dywedir fod hen
ysgubor yn sefyll yn yr ochr ddeheuol i'r brif-ffordd. Un boreu Sul, pan
ydoedd y meistr yn cychwyn i'r Eglwys, dywedodd wrth un o'i weision am
gadw y brain oddi ar y maes lle yr oedd gwenith wedi ei hau, yn yr hwn y
safai yr hen ysgubor. Y gwas, trwy ryw foddion, a gasglodd y brain oll
iddi, a chauodd arnynt; yna dilynodd ei feistr i'r Eglwys; yntau, wrth ei
weled yno, a ddechreuodd ei geryddu yn llym. Y meistr, wedi clywed y
fath newydd, a hwyliodd ei gamrau tua'i gartref; ac efe a'u cafodd, er ei
syndod, fel y crybwyllwyd; ac fe ddywedir fod yr ysgubor yn orlawn o
honynt. Gelwir y maes hwn yn _Crow-barn_, neu Ysgubor y brain, hyd
heddyw. Dywedir mai enw y gwas oedd Dafydd Hiraddug, ac iddo werthu ei
hun i'r diafol, ac oherwydd hyny, ei fod yn alluog i gyflawni
gweithredoedd anhygoel yn yr oes hon. Pa fodd bynag, dywedir i Dafydd
fod yn gyfrwysach na'r hen sarff y tro hwn, yn ol y cytundeb fu
rhyngddynt. Yr ammod oedd, fod i'r diafol gael meddiant hollol o
Ddafydd, os dygid ei gorff dros erchwyn gwely, neu trwy ddrws, neu os
cleddid ef mewn mynwent, neu mewn Eglwys. Yr oedd Dafydd wedi gorchymyn,
pan y byddai farw, am gymmeryd yr afu a'r ysgyfaint o'i gorff, a'i taflu
i ben tomen, a dal sylw pa un ai cigfran ai colomen fyddai yn ennill
buddugoliaeth am danynt; os cigfran, am gymmeryd ei gorff allan trwy
waelod ac nid dros erchwyn y gwely; a thrwy bared ac nid trwy ddrws, a'i
gladdu, nid mewn mynwent na llan, ond o dan fur yr Eglwys; ac i'r diafol
pan ddeallodd hyn lefaru, gan ddywedyd:--

Dafydd Hiraddug ei ryw,
_Ffals_ yn farw, _ffals_ yn fyw."

The tale in English is as follows:--

There is an incredible tradition connected with this place Ffinant,
Trefeglwys. It is said that an old barn stands on the right hand side of
the highway. One Sunday morning, as the master was starting to church,
he told one of the servants to keep the crows from a field that had been
sown with wheat, in which field the old barn stood. The servant, through
some means, collected all the crows into the barn, and shut the door on
them. He then followed his master to the Church, who, when he saw the
servant there, began to reprove him sharply. But the master, when he
heard the strange news, turned his steps homewards, and found to his
amazement that the tale was true, and it is said that the barn was filled
with crows. This barn, ever afterwards was called _Crow-barn_, a name it
still retains.

It is said that the servant's name was Dafydd Hiraddug, and that he had
sold himself to the devil, and that consequently, he was able to perform
feats, which in this age are considered incredible. However, it is said
that Dafydd was on this occasion more subtle than the old serpent, even
according to the agreement which was between them. The contract was,
that the devil was to have complete possession of Dafydd if his corpse
were taken over the side of the bed, or through a door, or if buried in a
churchyard, or inside a church. Dafydd had commanded, that on his death,
the liver and lights were to be taken out of his body and thrown on the
dunghill, and notice was to be taken whether a raven or a dove got
possession of them; if a raven, then his body was to be taken away by the
foot, and not by the side of the bed, and through the wall, and not
through the door, and he was to be buried, not in the churchyard nor in
the Church, but under the Church walls. And the devil, when he saw that
by these arrangements he had been duped cried, saying:--

Dafydd Hiraddug, badly bred,

False when living, and false when dead.

Such is the tale. I now come to another series of Folk-Lore stories,
which seem to imply that in ancient days rival religions savagely
contended for the supremacy, and in these tales also Satan occupies a
prominent position.

_Satan and Churches_.

The traditional stories that are still extant respecting the determined
opposition to the erection of certain churches in particular spots, and
the removal of the materials during the night to some other site, where
ultimately the new edifice was obliged to be erected, and the many
stories of haunted churches, where evil spirits had made a lodgment, and
could not for ages be ousted, are evidences of the antagonism of rival
forms of paganism, or of the opposition of an ancient religion to the new
and intruding Christian Faith.

Brash in his _Ogam Inscribed Stones_, p. 109, speaking of Irish Churches,
says:--

"It is well known that many of our early churches were erected on sites
professedly pagan."

The most ancient churches in Wales have circular or ovoidal
churchyards--a form essentially Celtic--and it may well be that these
sacred spots were dedicated to religious purposes in pagan times, and
were appropriated by the early Christians,--not, perhaps, without
opposition on the part of the adherents of the old faith--and consecrated
to the use of the Christian religion. In these churchyards were often to
be found holy, or sacred wells, and many of them still exist, and modes
of divination were practised at these wells, which have come down to our
days, and which must have originated in pre-Christian or pagan times.

It is highly probable that the older faith would for a while exist
concurrently with the new, and mutual contempt and annoyance on the part
of the supporters of the respective beliefs would as naturally follow in
those times as in any succeeding age, but this fact should be
emphasised--that the modes of warfare would correspond with the civilized
or uncivilized state of the opponents. This remark is general in its
application, and applies to races conquered by the Celts in Britain,
quite as much as to races who conquered the Celt, and there are not
wanting certain indications that the tales associated with Satan belong
to a period long anterior to the introduction of Christianity. Certain
classes of these tales undoubtedly refer to the antagonism of beliefs
more ancient than the Christian faith, and they indicate the measures
taken by one party to suppress the other. Thus we see it related that
the Evil Spirit is forcibly ejected from churches, and dragged to the
river, and there a tragedy occurs. In other words a horrible murder is
committed on the representative of the defeated religion. The very fact
that he loses his life in a river--in water--in an object of wide spread
worship--is not without its significance.

We have seen in the legend of the Evil Spirit in Cerrig-y-drudion Church,
p. 133,--that it was ejected, after a severe struggle, from the sacred
building--that it was dragged to the lake, where it lost its life, by two
_Ychain Banawg_--that they, and it, perished together in the lake:--Now
these _Ychain Banawg_ or long-horned oxen, huge in size and strong of
limb, are traditional, if not fabulous animals, and this one incident in
the legend is enough to prove its great antiquity. Undoubtedly it dates
from remote pre-Christian times, and yet the tale is associated with
modern ideas, and modes of expression. It has come down to us along the
tide of time, and has received its colouring from the ages it has passed
through. Yet on the very surface of this ancient legend we perceive it
written that in days of old there was severe antagonism between rival
forms of pagan faith, and the manner in which the weaker--and perhaps the
more ancient--is overcome, is made clear. The instrument used is brute
force, and the vanquished party is _drowned_ or, in the euphonious
language of the tales, _is laid_.

There are many stories of spirits that have been cast out of churches,
still extant in Wales, and one of the most famous of these is that of
Llanfor Church, near Bala. It resembles that of Cerrig-y-drudion. I
have succeeded in obtaining several versions of this legend. I am
indebted for the first to Mr. R. Roberts, Clocaenog, a native of Bala.

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