Mae hi’n bwrw hen wragedd a ffyn.
(It’s raining old ladies with sticks)
Diolch o galon
Three songbirds who trod these paths before:
Maria Jane Williams, Glynneath;
Marie Trevelyan, Llantwit Major;
Myra Evans, Ceinewydd.
For my son, Tom,
and my mam and dad,
Edna and Steve
First published in 2017
The History Press
The Mill, Brimscombe Port
Stroud, Gloucestershire, GL5 2QG
www.thehistorypress.co.uk
This ebook edition first published in 2017
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© Peter Stevenson, 2017
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CONTENTS
Introduction; Chwedlau
1. BRANWEN, RED AND WHITE BOOKS
Charlotte and The Mabinogion
Branwen Ferch Llŷr
2. LADIES, LAKES AND LOOKING GLASSES
The Lady of Llyn y Fan Fach
The Lady of Llyn y Forwyn
The Fairy Cattle of Llyn Barfog
The Red-Haired Lady of Llyn Eiddwen
Dreams and Memories
3. SUBMERGED CITIES, LOST WORLDS AND UTOPIAS
Plant Rhys Ddwfn
The Ghost Island
The Curse of the Verry Volk
The Reservoir Builders
The Lost Land below Wylfa Nuclear Power Station
4. MERMAIDS, FISHERMEN AND SELKIES
Mermaids
The Llanina Mermaid
Another Llanina Mermaid
More Llanina Mermaids
The Fisherman and the Seal
5. CONJURERS, CHARMERS AND CURSERS
The Dyn Hysbys
The Conjurer of Cwrt-y-Cadno
Silver John the Bonesetter
The Cancer Curers of Cardigan
Old Gruff
6. HAGS, HARES AND DOLLS
Witchery
The Llanddona Witches
Dark Anna’s Doll
Hunting the Hare
The Witch of Death
7. DREAMS, MEMORIES AND THE OTHERWORLD
The Story of Guto Bach
The Fairies of Pen Llŷn
Gower Power
The Curse of Pantanas
Crossing the Boundary
8. GOBLINS, BOGEYS AND PWCAS
The Ellyll
The Pwca of the Trwyn
Red Cap Otter
Sigl-di-gwt
9. BIRTHS, CHANGELINGS AND EGGSHELLS
Taliesin
The Llanfabon Changeling
The Eggshell Dinner
The Hiring Fair
The Baby Farmer
10. DEATH, SIN-EATERS AND VAMPIRES
Poor Polly
Welsh Wake Amusements
The Fasting Girls
Evan Bach Meets Death
Modryb Nan
Sin-Eaters
Vampires
The Zombie Welshman
11. CHAPEL, CHURCH AND DEVIL
The Devil’s Bridge
Huw Llwyd’s Pulpit
The Church that was a Mosque
The Chapel
12. SHEEPDOGS, GREYHOUNDS AND A GIANT CAT
As Sorry as the Man Who Killed his Greyhound
A Fairy Dog
A Gruesome Tail
Cath Palug
The Sheepdog
13. HORSES, FAIRY CATTLE AND AN ENCHANTED PIG
The Ychen Bannog
The Ox of Eynonsford Farm
Ceffyl Dŵr
The Horse that Dropped Gold
The King’s Secret
The Undertaker’s Horse
The Boar Hunt
14. EAGLES, OWLS AND SEAGULLS
The King of the Birds
The Ancient Animals
Shemi Wâd and the Seagulls
Iolo’s Fables
15. DRAGONS, HAIRY THINGS AND AN ELEPHANT
The Red and White Dragons
Serpents, Carrogs, Vipers and Gwibers
The Welsh Yeti
The Wiston Basilisk
Shaggy Elephant Tales
16. SAINTS, WISHES AND CURSING WELLS
The Shee Well that Ran Away
St Dwynwen
Dwynwen’s Well
St Melangell
St Eilian’s Cursing Well
17. GIANTS, BEARDS AND CANNIBALS
Cynog and the Cewri
The Man with Green Weeds in His Hair
The King of the Beards
The One-Eyed Giant of Rhymney
18. MINERS, COAL AND A RAT
The Coal Giant
Dic Penderyn
The Treorchy Leadbelly
The Rat with False Teeth
Siôn y Gof
The Hole
The Penrhyn Strike
The Wolf
19. HOMES, FARMS AND MICE
The Lady of Ogmore
The House with the Front Door at the Back
The Cow on the Roof
Manawydan Hangs a Mouse
The Muck Heap
20. COURTSHIP, LOVE AND MARRIAGE
The Maid of Cefn Ydfa
Rhys and Meinir
The Odd Couple
The Wish
21. FIDDLERS, HARPERS AND PIPERS
The Gypsy Fiddler
Ffarwel Ned Puw
Dic the Fiddler
Morgan the Harper
The Harpers of Bala
22. ROMANI, DANCERS AND CINDER-GIRL
Black Ellen
Cinder-Girl
The Dancing Girl from Prestatyn
Fallen Snow
23. SETTLERS, TRAVELLERS AND TOURISTS
Madoc and the Moon-Eyed People
Wil Cefn Goch
Malacara
The Texan Cattle Farmer
24. TRAINS, TRAMPS AND ROADS
The Old Man of Pencader
The Tales of Thomas Phillips, Stationmaster
The Wily Old Welshman
Dic Aberdaron
Sarn Elen
25. STONES, CAVES AND FERNS
The Giantess’s Apron-Full
The Stonewaller
The Scarecrow
Owain Lawgoch
Aladdin’s Cave, Aberystwyth
The Ferny Man
26. DENTISTS, COCKLE WOMEN AND ONION MEN
Don’t Buy a Woodcock by its Beak
Wil the Mill
The Penclawdd Cockle Women
Sioni Onions
The Hangman who Hanged Himself
27. SEA, SMUGGLERS AND SEVENTH WAVES
The Ring in the Fish
Jemima Fawr and the Black Legion
Walter and the Wreckers
Potato Jones
The Kings of Bardsey
28. ROGUES, TRICKSTERS AND FOLK HEROES
Myra, Rebecca and the Mari Lwyd
Twm Siôn Cati
The Red Bandits of Dinas Mawddwy
Murr
ay the Hump
The Man who Never Was
29. SWANS, WOLVES AND TRANSFORMATIONS
Cadwaladr and the Goat
Swan Ladies
Snake-Women
Frog Woman and Toad Man
Werewolves and Wolf-Girl
30. BLODEUWEDD, FLOWER AND OWL
References
Diolch o Galon
INTRODUCTION;
CHWEDLAU
There is a Welsh word, ‘Chwedlau’, which means myths, legends, folk tales and fables, and also sayings, speech, chat and gossip. If someone says, ‘chwedl Cymraeg?’, they are asking, ‘Do you speak Welsh?’ and ‘Do you tell a tale in Welsh?’ Here is the root of storytelling, or ‘chwedleua’, in Wales. It is part of conversation.
The writer Alwyn D. Rees explains that when you meet someone in the street, you don’t ask how they are, you tell them a story, and they will tell you one in return. Only after three days do you earn the right to ask, ‘How are you?’
One afternoon, I was talking to a friend in a shop when a ‘storiwr’ spotted us through the window, did a double take, came in, and without pausing for breath, began. ‘You know my next door neighbour? Miserable old boy, never had a good word for anyone, how his wife put up with him. Well …’ Twenty minutes passed. He finished his tall tale, said, ‘There we are’, and left the shop. He had spotted a performance space and an audience, and he had a story stirring in his mind. There was no way of telling whether it was true or invented, and its likely he didn’t know either. This happens all the time in the west. Takes forever to do your shopping.
The Welsh story writer, quarryman and curate, Owen Wynne-Jones, known as Glasynys, told of a tradition of storytelling when he was a child in Rhostryfan in Snowdonia in the 1830s, and of his mother telling fairy tales in front of the fire. Sixty years later, the writer Kate Roberts, from nearby Rhosgadfan, thought Glasynys’s recollection might well have been true of the people in the big houses, but there was no tradition of telling fairy tales amongst the cottagers. She added:
But there was a tradition of story-telling in spite of that, quarrymen going to each other’s houses in the winter evenings, popping in uninvited, and without exception there was story-telling. But these were just amusing stories, a kind of anecdote, and fellow quarrymen describing their escapades … the skill was to make these amusing stories seem significant. I remember literary judgements being passed by the hearth in my old home: if anyone laughed at the end of his own story, or if he told the story portentously and nothing happened in it. Indeed, the way we listened to story-tellers like that was enough to make them stop half way, if they had enough sense to notice. But anyway, the tradition … could have come indirectly to the quarrymen of my district, because many of them originated from Llŷn, where I believe traditional story-telling took place.
Pen Llŷn was renowned for its storytellers. They were farmers, poets, sea captains, garage mechanics, artists, mothers, quarry workers, crafts folk, preachers and teachers, and they moved effortlessly between gossip, fairy tale, politics, songs and criticism. Their fuel was humour.
They would tell you, ‘When the gorse is in bloom, it is kissing time’. There are three species of gorse, their flowering times overlap, so it’s always kissing time in Wales. When the pair of ceramic dogs in the window faced away from each other, it was a message from the lady of the house to the gentlemen of the village that her husband was away. And the tylwyth teg, the ‘fair folk’, were everywhere, small and otherworldly, tall and human, inhabiting the margins of our dreamworld, that space between awake and asleep, where time passes in the blink of a crow’s eye or freezes in an endless fatal heartbeat. Elis Bach lived at Nant Gwrtheyrn in the mid-1800s, and frightened anyone who met him. He was a farmer, a dwarf, a mother’s son, and everyone agreed he was ‘tylwyth teg’.
The storytellers spoke for their communities. Eirwyn Jones worked in a carpenter’s shop in Talgarreg, and was known after his home village, ‘Pontshan’. His stories were often scurrilous and hilarious. ‘Gwell llaeth Cymru, na chwrw Lloegr,’ he said, ‘Better Welsh milk than English beer’. He once walked to an Eisteddfod in Pwllheli where he and a friend slept the night on a rowing boat in the harbour, only to find the morning tide had washed them out to sea. There they stayed, telling tales to the mackerel, till the tide flowed in again. At least he had time to wash his socks. ‘Hyfryd iawn,’ he said, ‘very lovely’.
Old Shemi Wâd sat outside the Rose & Crown in Goodwick spinning yarns to the children about how the seagulls had carried him over the sea to America.
Twm o’r Nant from Denbigh travelled from village to village performing ‘interludes’ from the back of his cart. Myra Evans collected fairy tales and gossip from her family and neighbours in Ceinewydd, filled sketchbooks with drawings of local characters, and documented a way of life rooted in ‘chwedlau’.
In lime-washed farmhouses in the hills, conjurers recited charms from spell books and kept potions in misty brown bottles. Harpers disappeared into swamps, dreamers vanished into holes in the ground, drowned sailors called to long-lost lovers and castles were preserved as bees in amber. Stories, history and dreams entwined as memory.
Into this land came travelling people. The Romani arrived in the mid-1700s, with tales of Cinder-girl and Fallen Snow, ladies darker by far than Cinderella and Snow White. Somali sailors came to work in Cardiff docks in the 1800s and stayed, saying, ‘A person who has not travelled does not have eyes’. Refugees fled Poland after the Second World War and settled on Penrhos Airfield near Pwllheli, where their families still live in ‘the Polish Village’. The Cornish traded with Gower and worked in the lead mines, Italian POWs became farmhands and married local girls, and Breton men cycled the lanes selling onions. All the while, the Welsh emigrated, fleeing poverty and loss of land, becoming miners and missionaries, searching for new hope in the Americas, Australia and Asia. Their stories travelled with them. There are echoes of old Shemi’s tall tales in the Appalachian Liar’s Competitions. Honest, there are.
No amount of caravan sites, bypasses and barbed-wire fences can hide an ancient enchanted land with tales to tell. Standing stones double as gateposts. A Lady of the Lake lives beneath a pond in the midst of a Merthyr council estate. An old church in Ynys Môn was converted into a mosque that now overlooks a nuclear power station. Wind farms have grown amongst the ruins of peat cutters’ cottages on Mynydd Bach. You can trampoline in the depths of a disused slate mine in Snowdonia. Red kites wheel in the air over the National Library of Wales where twenty years ago they were near extinct. Trees once pulled their roots from the ground and marched into battle, where spruce and fir now grow. And a woman was conjured out of flowers to satisfy the whims of a man.
Kate Roberts said, ‘I’m a thin-skinned woman, easily hurt, and by nature a terrible pacifist. My bristles are raised at once against anything I consider an injustice, be it against an individual or a society or a nation. Indeed, I’d like to have some great stage to stand on, facing Pumlumon, to be able to shout against every injustice.’
Storytelling has always offered an ear to those who feel their voices are lost in the wind, or caught in an electronic spider’s web. It draws upon an archive of folk tales, memories of times of upheaval, personal philosophies, revolutionary ideals and the comfort that we are not alone in our dreams. Storytelling is the theatre of the unheard.
There is an old story of a Welshman who was bursting with a secret, so he told it to the reeds that grew by a pond. A piper cut the reeds to make a pipe, and when he blew, he played the secret for everyone to hear. You could whisper a message to a songbird, who would fly to your lover and sing to them of your heart’s desires. The lakes and streams are looking glasses into this world. There are no secrets here. Listen. You will hear stories. Hush, now.
1
BRANWEN, RED AND WHITE BOOKS
Charlotte and The Mabinogion
Around 1350, the ‘White Book of Rhydderch’ was thought to have been copied out by five monks
at Ystrad Fflur in Ceredigion for the library of Rhydderch ab Ieuan Llwyd, a literary patron from Llangeitho. A few years later, Hywel Fychan fab Hywel Goch of Buellt wrote out the ‘Red Book of Hergest’ for Hopcyn ap Tomas ab Einion of Ystradforgan. These two books contain the earliest versions of ‘Y Pedair Cainc Y Mabinogi [the Four Branches of the Mabinogi]’, the ancient myths and legends of Wales. They are written in an old form of Welsh, and lay largely unknown to the wider world until William Owen Pughe translated the story of Pwyll into English in 1795 under the title, The Mabinogion, or Juvenile Amusements, being Ancient Welsh Romances, while leaving out the sexual shenanigans. In 1828, the Irish antiquarian Thomas Crofton Croker published Pughe’s translation of Branwen, which caught the attention of the sixteen-year-old daughter of the Ninth Earl of Lindsey.
Charlotte Bertie was a free-thinker, a rebel and a Chartist, who disapproved of her aristocratic parents’ politics. Aged twenty-one, she married John Guest, manager of Dowlais Ironworks, and moved from Lincolnshire to Wales. On her husband’s death she took over as manager, created a cradle-to-grave education system, built progressive schools, supported Turkish refugees, learned Persian and Welsh, brought up ten children and read them fairy tales. When Pughe died in 1835, she completed his translations of the Red and White Books into English, and published them three years later as The Mabinogion.
Within Guest’s book are the Four Branches of the Mabinogi. They have a narrative structure very different to literature, a sense of tales for telling. They sketch only the bare bones of characters, moving through time and space as if they were mist, and make little attempt to be moralising or didactic. They are tales of the tribe, snapshots of moments of upheaval in the history of the land.
The first branch tells of friendships and relationships, the meeting of Pwyll and Rhiannon, and the birth of Pryderi, the only character to feature in all four branches. The second concerns the avoidance and aftermath of war between Bendigeidfran of Wales and Matholwch of Ireland, and Branwen’s doomed arranged marriage. The third tells of the human cost of immigration, settlers and craftsmen forced to move on, and Manawydan’s frustrated attempts to hang a mouse who has stolen his corn. The fourth describes the pain of desire, the rape of Goewin, Arianrhod’s virgin births, her sibling rivalry with Gwydion, and the objectification of Blodeuwedd.
Welsh Folk Tales Page 1
