by Anne Ross
All the above comments are equally relevant to the traditions of Wales. As is the case throughout the British Isles, it was vital not only to keep a careful watch over crops and stock, but to play a full part in the thanksgiving which in post-Christian times took place within the hallowed precincts of the many ancient churches and in those built at a more recent date.
5a Caseg Fedi, Barley, oats, wheat. From Llangynllo, Radnorshire. After I.C. Peate, ‘Corn Ornaments’, in Folklore, vol.82, 1971, pl.II
5b Corn dollies, made from the last sheaf at harvest time. On the left, the caseg fedi, after T.M. Owen The Customs and Tradions of Wales, 1991, 13. On the right, a comparable Barley Maiden from Scotland
The custom of the Last Sheaf was widespread in the scattered arable regions of Wales, many of which were extremely fertile. The Last Sheaf to be cut was treated with special honour, often being decorated in various ways, sometimes taking the form of an anthropomorphic figure, known in the Scottish Highlands as a’ Mhaighdean if the harvest had been a good one and a’ Chailleach should the harvest be poor or disastrous. A widespread tradition was to decorate it or tie it with coloured ribbons and hang it up in the kitchen of the farmer whose land had been harvested. There it held pride of place until the following spring sowing round about February when it was taken down and given to the horses to eat. The following year the same thing would happen. It was widely known as a corn dolly or a corn maiden but in Wales it was known as the caseg fedi ‘harvest mare’ (5) or caseg hen fedi, meaning ‘end of the harvest mare’. In Welsh-speaking Pembrokeshire and the adjoining districts of south Cardiganshire and west Carmarthen-shire, also in parts of Caernarfonshire, it was known as y wrach, ‘the hag’.
The custom of the last sheaf is of great interest. Iorwerth Peate describes it from the information he obtained orally in different regions of Wales. Seemingly when the corn was being reaped, one patch was left in the centre of the field, uncut. Then the reapers came together with their sickles and the man in charge would go on his knees in front of the tuft of corn and divide it into three parts, plaiting these together as he would plait the tail of a mare. He would then secure the plaited clump a few inches above ground level. The eight or so reapers would stand some ten yards away from it, and each in turn would hurl his sickle at it so that it travelled just above ground level. The idea was to shear off the plaited tuft. If this was not achieved the chief reaper would then cut the tuft himself. As in Scotland, the harvest mare was taken to the farmhouse by the person who cut it, and there it would hang in the living room, to indicate that all the harvest had been reaped.
One informant told Dr Peate that, at a farm near Begeli in Pembrokeshire, he had seen 25 plaited sheaves in a single farmhouse, representing 25 years of harvest. The carrying of the plaited mare from the field into the farmhouse was not an easy matter. The household was warned that the last tuft had been cut, and planned to oppose it being brought into the house. If the bearer was anticipated as he was trying to enter the house he was ‘rough handled’ by the women and he had to place the plaited mare in a dry condition on the living room table. To prevent him succeeding he was often soaked with water or other available liquid. He usually succeeded by some clever trick. His companions, too, would help to foil the womenfolk in order to get the caseg fedi into the house, dry. If the reaper succeeded in this he had the place of honour at the harvest feast which followed. If he failed and the mare got wet it was not taken into the house. A mare that had not been soaked with water was an omen of good luck for a prosperous harvest in the coming year. In the same area, the successful reaper would shout out: ‘In the morning, I got on her track, late in the evening I followed her; I’ve got her, I’ve got her.’ He was then asked ‘What have you got?’, and he would reply, together with the others, ‘Gwrach! Gwrach! Gwrach!’ (Hag! Hag! Hag!).
There were, of course, many variations on the details of this custom of ‘taking in the mare’. In certain areas, for example in parts of Shropshire and Montgomeryshire, it was considered unlucky to celebrate the harvest home before all the harvest had been gathered in. I have certainly never heard of this happening in any of the Celtic countries in which I have collected harvest traditions. The bringing in of the last sheaf invariably symbolised the completion of the harvest. In parts of Denbighshire and Montgomeryshire, a miniature sheaf made of the ears and stalks was kept on the mantel-shelf until the following harvest. This may be compared with an east Pembrokeshire custom recorded in the 1870s of placing a small, poorly-executed specimen of the last sheaf in a small parcel and taking it at midnight to the neighbouring farmhouse.
There was, however, another custom associated with the reaping of the first sheaf. This was threshed with flails on the first day of cutting and the corn cooked to make a dumpling which was eaten at midday.
In parts of Cardigan the harvest pie (poten pen fedi) consisted of boiled potatoes and salt beef or bacon chopped together. These were put in a pot and cooked on a peat fire, peats also being put on the lid of the pot. For those further interested in these archaic and rather charming customs, they may like to know that the Welsh Folk Museum, which is at St Fagan’s, not far from Cardiff, has several examples of corn ‘dollies’ from Wales, and is a treasure-house of other memorabilia.
When all had gone well and there was real cause for joyous celebration, special suppers were prepared for the workers, extra fodder and corn was given to the horses, and the stock and the cwrw da (good ale), for which Wales is famous, was imbibed while the local storyteller would be holding the close attention of those gathered together; songs of joy would be sung in the subtle style of old Welsh singing and the sweet music of the harp would further enhance the happy occasions. The brilliant Irish folklore scholar, the late Maire MacNeill, in her splendid study of The Festival of Lughnasa (1 August) has one or two comments to make about the Lughnasa gatherings in Wales which, as elsewhere, often took place on hilltops. Lughnasa, meaning the birth celebrations of the pan-Celtic god, Lugus, later Lugh, is an example of one of the many names of pagan Celtic divinities which in spite of Christian opposition, did survive in this country as elsewhere. The name given to this ceremony was often simply Gwyl Awst (‘the August festival’) and it became a regular Fair Day in some regions of North Wales. It is seemingly remembered likewise in central and southern Ceredigion, as a shepherd’s Feast Day. This would seem to have become more or less redundant now, in so far as one can gather. To go back to Gwyl Awst in Ceredigion and North Wales, everybody would contribute some item of cooking or food, for example, a farmer’s wife might lend a big kettle, and others would provide soup and sometimes everyone had to put a portion of the fuel necessary for the bonfire into the conflagration.
Little Van Lake
A mountain version of this 1 August celebration used to take place annually here. Great crowds of people, on the first Sunday in the month, went up the Brecon Beacons to approach Little Van Lake and watch for the appearance of the Lady of the lake at some time during the day. There was an interesting legend, which is related in full in chapter 9 infra, about this supernatural woman who used to appear briefly on this festive day.
The 1 August Mountain Assembly (Lughnasa in Ireland) Gwyl Awst in Wales was held widely in the British Isles in ever-increasingly vestigial form. Records of the Cornish traditions are extremely detailed as are those that remain in Brittany and in France. Maire MacNeill studied the Irish custom in her magnificent work and gives us tempting glimpses into the practices at this vital first fruit festival in other parts of Europe. One may infer that this ancient festival has, or certainly had, a very wide distribution throughout the whole of Europe, no matter what name was applied to it. To return to Wales, MacNeill, writing in 1962, makes the following comment:
Gwyl Awst is now a day for fairs in certain parts of North Wales, and it is remembered in Central and Southern Cardiganshire as one on which the shepherds used commonly till comparatively lately, to have a picnic on the hills. One farmer’s wife would lend a big kettl
e, and others would contribute, while according to another account, everybody present had to put his share of fuel on the fire with his own hands.
But in Brecknockshire the 1st of August seems to have given way, some time before Catholicism had lost its sway in Wales, to the first holiday or feast in August, that is to say, the first Sunday in that month. For then crowds of people early in the morning, made their way up the mountains called the Beacons, both from the side of Carmarthenshire and Glamorgan: their destination used to be the neighbourhood of the Little Van Lake, out of whose waters they expected in the course of the day to see the Lady of the Lake make her momentary appearance … The story of the Lady of Little Van Lake, whom the Welsh pilgrims used till recently to go forth to see, is too long to be given here, and also too modern, in the form we have it, to clear up the details of the myth of which it forms a part.
(But see the Myddfai legend, chapter 9.)
Nos Calan Gaeaf (Hallowe’en)
Some customs seem to be based on working practices, others such as Nos Calan Gaeaf, or Hallowe’en are concerned with the home and the hearth which was an important focal point of all domestic life. This festival, which celebrates the approach of winter, the dark period of the Celtic year, took place on 31 October. It was held in all the Celtic countries, and is still remembered throughout the British Isles, and as far afield as America, Australia and New Zealand, where many Britons and other Celts have settled. It was believed that supernatural beings and powers became visible to mankind, that the graves opened and the dead walked again. Supernatural, hostile creatures also manifested themselves, such as the Hwch Ddu Gwta (the black, short-tailed sow). The Hwch Ddu Gwta frightened even the strongest of men. Pig-lore is very widespread in the Celtic countries and is particularly strong in Ireland and Wales. There is an enormous corpus of lore about pigs, pig transformation and great royal feasts at which the flesh of the pig was voraciously devoured. It was believed in the more northern parts of Wales that after the bonfire is turned into a smouldering mass, that the Black Sow made its appearance and would chase terrified young people, sometimes as far as their homes. I have heard that the Black Pig was particularly dangerous in the vicinity of the uneasy graveyard and the road led directly past this. The young people, and possibly some of older years, made a run for it in order to put behind them all the darkness and spectres as well as the Black Sow as soon as was humanly possible. My neighbour used to live in Bala and was very familiar with this tradition and the terrifying nature of the otherworld monster-pig.
The four calendar festivals in the Celtic world were basically fire-festivals. As the bonfire was sinking and turning into a heap of glowing ashes, it was a time when divination became clearer and the terrors of the night ahead drew near. I have a friend who lives locally who is a native of the country near the Lleyn Peninsula. He remembers how, as a boy, when the festivities were over and the fire was low and the young went on their way home in groups they really believed that the black sow was coning after them, and the greatest terror was to get safely past the churchyard with its own quota of horrors and reach home, running as fast as their legs could carry them.
The Welsh bonfires were taken very seriously, and the preparations for them were quite elaborate. Two or three would always be within sight of each other, and this brings to mind the hill-forts in the period of Roman occupation in Wales, when a beacon was lit on a prominent hill, for example Pen Dinas, Aberystwyth, and Pen Dinas, Elerch, some six miles apart, each one informing the other that danger was near. Everything combustible would be collected, for example huge quantities of straw, ferns, gorse and hawthorn bushes would be carted to the site; and as the fire was ‘taking’ there would be great noise from the blowing of horns and other instruments. People would dance and leap as the fire burned brightly, and roasted apples and potatoes would be eaten when cooked. My own memories of childhood Hallowe’en focus particularly on the delicious flavour of the potatoes when cooked in the bonfire, and taken out by the gardener to be split and filled with fresh farm butter as the fire began to sink. I think I have never tasted potatoes that were so fluffy and white and deliciously flavoured. We had the ghosts of the departed, but nothing so terrifying as the black short-tailed sow. There was usually some kind of celebration after the bonfires, held in one of the farmhouses. The traditional supper always included a mash-up of nine different vegetables which had salt and fresh milk added to make it nice and smooth. A wedding-ring was often hidden in the mash. The person who found the ring (hopefully not breaking a tooth on it first of all) was destined to be the first to marry, according to tradition.
A great vessel was filled with cold water and apples were floated in it and those present, who were able, got on their knees down on the floor and tried to bite one of the apples. Silver coins could also be used in this game and apples were hung by cord or string from the ceiling for a similar competition. We used to do virtually the same things when I was a child, but the apples were hung by a string from the pulley in the kitchen. Nuts also played a major role in the Hallowe’en festivities, and were roasted in the fire until they cracked and jumped out. Omens were read from where and how they landed. In the Welsh tradition, nuts and grains of wheat were placed in the fire and future events were read accordingly. Trefor Owen notes that in the Vale of Tywi, Carmarthenshire, young men used to bring pockets full of nuts to Hallowe’en parties and it was the custom to hand these round to the girls, old and young. Everyone took a turn at throwing a nut into the fire and watched closely while it burned; it was a matter of life and death — literally! If the nut burned brightly it indicated that the one who had cast it in would still be alive in 12 months’ time. If a bright blaze did not occur then certain death awaited the one who had thrown it in. I think this game would probably best be avoided! Nuts were also thrown into the fire to see if the thing desired would in fact materialise, for example whether the girl or boy that the thrower loved would agree to marry the other.
A very important point on Hallowe’en was where two roads cross. This is always open to superstitious feelings and it was a place where spirits of various kinds were supposed to lurk. One of the more interesting customs noted by Owen was that at Tenby, Pembrokeshire, where it was a custom to sow hemp at a crossroads. The women performed this rite at midnight, having dug a small patch of ground. They would then chant, asking for the shape of their true love to appear, and rake the hemp seed after them. This is only one example of a widespread custom. Frequently it was carried out in a churchyard!
As in the Scottish Highlands, looking through the hole in a blade-bone of mutton was a way to prognosticate the future husband or wife, but unlike the Highland rite, nine additional holes were bored in it beforehand. Things could get somewhat out of control when men or young people went about demanding gifts from poor, frightened people. They would knock on every door, chanting strange rhymes and demanding gifts with a set rhyme. The youths, eager for treats, would go from door to door shouting ‘Cnau ac afalau’ (nuts and apples). These were obtained especially for Hallowe’en ploys, and everyone received a generous portion. Sometimes rounds of the church were made and at one stage old rhymes were chanted but by the time leading up to the early twentieth century the ditties could be more or less meaningless.
The custom of ‘souling’ is a strange one correctly carried out on All Souls’ Eve, 1 November, but there was confusion between All Hallows’ Eve and All Souls’ Eve, both of which were concerned with death and with the souls of the departed. Part of the souling ritual took place in the parish church, that is, up to the eight-eenth century, where in many areas candles were lit. These candles were donated by the parishioners. When they were lit, the way in which the flame burned, faintly or brightly, would serve as a prognosis of the future. This was not a very subtle procedure as, naturally enough, a brightly burning flame would indicate prosperity and presumably the wellbeing of the souls; a poor flame would suggest the reverse. If the candle were, however, to cease to burn before it had reached t
he candle holder, death within the year would certainly be the fate of the one who owned it. Once the last candle had been extinguished, everyone in the church walked three times round the building and then made for their homes, keeping total silence. In some ways, apart from the church ceremony, this would seem to differ little from the Nos Calan Gaeaf customs. The custom of souling was widespread in Wales and was extremely popular in the border counties of Cheshire and Shropshire. The cakes, which were specially made for the souling ceremony, were known as soul-cakes or dole-cakes (pice rhanna and bara rhan). Soul-cakes were regarded as being acceptable to the dead.
6 The Antrobus Soulers, Cheshire, in 1972. After B. Shuel, The National Trust Guide to Traditional Customs In Britain, 1985, p.179
The height of the popularity of the festival was in the medieval period and prayers were offered up for the souls of relatives to be released from purgatory, should they have the misfortune to be in that gloomy place. Souling plays were very popular in Cheshire, but only three survived the Second World War, which did much to terminate many such traditions throughout the British Isles. The most famous of the Cheshire celebrations is the Antrobus Souling Play, which is still celebrated on All Souls’ day or Hallowe’en. This is very popular and people come from a wide area to witness it. The headquarters of the soulers in Antrobus are at the Wheatsheaf Inn. They start there, but where they end is anybody’s guess. The souling play proceeds along the accepted traditional lines until the point when the Antrobus Horse (known as the Wild Horse; 6) makes his appearance with his driver. This is followed by a jingle, the sense of which is not always clear, but which delights the great crowds of spectators. This ditty is intended to raise money. ‘The horse has a presence about him, and in the view of Mari Lwyd (7), hoodening, hobby horses and the like, he may have had a more significant rôle in the past’ (pp.187–9, Shuel, National Trust Guide).
