by Bob Curran
Another common name for the Fairies is Bendyth y Mamau or “A Mother’s Blessing”. In Doctor Owen Pughe’s Dictionary, they are called “Benditth eu Mamau” or, “Their Mother’s Blessing”. The first is the more common expression, at least in North Wales. It is a singularly strange expression, and difficult to explain. Perhaps it hints at Fairy origin on the mother’s side of certain fortunate people.
The third name given to the Fairies is “Ellyll”, an elf, a demon, a goblin. This conveys these beings to the land of spirits, and makes them resemble the oriental Genii, and Shakespeare’s sportive elves. It agrees, likewise, with the modern popular creed respecting goblins and their doings.
Davydd ab Gwilym in a description of a mountain mist in which he was once enveloped says:
“Yr ydoedd ym mbob gobant
Ellyllon mingeimiou gant”
“There were in every hollow,
A hundred wrymouthed elves.” The Cambro-Britian v. I.p. 348
In Prembrokeshire, the Fairies are called Dynon Bach Teg or the Small Fair People.
Another name applied to the Fairies is Plant Annwfn or Plant Annwn. This, however, is not an appellation in common use. The term is applied to the Fairies in the third paragraph of a Welsh prose poem called Bard Cuag, thus:
“Y bwriodd y Tylwyth Teg fi…oni baify nyfod; mawn pryd i’th achub o’ gigweinau Plant Annwfn.”
“Where the Tylwyth Teg threw me……If I had not come in time to rescue thee from the clutches of Plant Annwfn”
Annwn or Annwfn is defined in Canon Silvan Evans’s Dictionary as an abyss, Hades etc. Plant Annwfn, therefore, means the children of the lower regions. It is a name derived from the supposed place of abode—the bowels of the earth—of the Fairies. Guragedd Annwn, the dames of Elfin land, is a name applied to Fairy ladies.
Ellis Wynne, the author of Bard Cuag, was born in 1671, and the probability that the words Plant Annwfn formed in his days part of the vocabulary of the people. He was born in Merionethshire.
Gwyll, according to Richards and Dr. Owen Pughe is a Fairy, a goblin etc. The plural of Gwyll would be Gwylliaid or Gwyllion but this latter word Dr. Pughe defines as ghosts, hobgoblins etc. Formerly there was, in Merionethshire, a redhaired family of robbers called Y Gwylliaid Cochion or the Red Fairies, of whom I shall speak hereafter.
Coblynau or Knockers have been described as a species of Fairies whose abode was within the rocks, and whose province it was to indicate to the miners by the process of knocking etc., the presence of rich lodes of lead and other metals in this or that direction of the mine.
That the words Tylwyth Teg and Ellyll are convertible terms appears from the following stanza, which is taken from the Cumbrian Magazine vol ii p. 58.
“Pan dramwych ffrid yr Ywan,
Lle mae Tylwyth Teg rhodien,
Dos yamlaen, a pbaid a sefyll,
Gwillia’th droed—rhag dawnsva’r Ellyll”
“When the forest of the Yew,
Where Fairies haunt, thou passest through,
Tarry not, thy footsteps guard,
From the Goblin’s dancing sward”
Although the poet mentions Tylwyth Teg and Ellyll as identical, he might have done so for rhythmical reasons. Undoubtedly, in the first instance, a distinction would be drawn between these two words, which originally were intended perhaps to describe two different kinds of beings but in the course of time the words became interchangeable, and thus there distinctive character is lost. In English, the words Fairies and elves are used without any distinction. It would appear from Brand’s Popular Antiquities vol. II p. 478. that, according to Gervaise of Tilbury there were two types of Goblin in England, called Portuni and Grant. This division suggests a difference between the Tylwyth Teg and the Ellyll. The Portuni, we are told, were very small of stature and old in appearance, “statura pusilli dimidium pollicis non habentes” but then they were “senili vultu facie corrugata”. The wrinkled face and aged appearance of the Portuni remind us of nursery Fairy tales in which the ancient female Fairy figures. The pranks of the Portuni are similar to those of Shakespeare’s Puck. The species Grant is not described, and consequently it cannot be ascertained how far they resembled any of the many kinds of Welsh Fairies. Gervaise, speaking of one of these species says:—“If anything should be carried on in the house, or any kind of laborious work to be done, the join themselves to the work, and expedite it with more than human facility.”
In Scotland, there are at least two species of elves, the Brownies and the Fairies. The Brownies are so called from their tawny walnut colour, and the Fairies from their fairness. The Portuni of Gervaise appear to have corresponded in character to the Brownies, who were said to have employed themselves in the night to the discharge of laborious undertakings, acceptable to the family to which they had devoted themselves. [Editor’s Note: In this they appear to be a folkloric remnant of the ancient household gods of Rome who were in charge of the maintenance and well-being of house, home, and property.] The Fairies proper of Scotland strongly resembled the Fairies of Wales.
The term Brownie, or swarthy elve, suggests a connection between them and the Gwylliaid Cochion or Red Fairies of Wales.
Fairy Ladies Marrying Mortals
In the mythology of the Greeks, and other nations, gods and goddesses are spoken of as falling in love with human beings, and many an ancient genealogy began with a celestial ancestor. Much of the same thing is said of the Fairies. Tradition speaks of them as being enamoured of the inhabitants of this earth, and content for awhile to be wedded to mortals. And there are families in Wales who are said to have Fairy blood coursing through their veins, but they are, or were, not so highly esteemed as were the offspring of the gods among the Greeks. The famous physicians of Myddfai, who owed their talent and supernatural knowledge to their Fairy origin are, however, an exception, for their renown, notwithstanding their parentage, was always great, and increased in greatness as the rolling years removed them from their traditionary parent, the Fairy lady of the Van Pool.
The Pellings are said to have sprung from a Fairy mother and the author of Observations on the Snowdon Mountainside states that the best blood in his veins is Fairy blood. There are, in some parts of Wales, reputed descendants on the female side of the Gwilliaid Cochion race; and there are other families among us who the aged of fifty years ago, with an ominous shake of the head, would say were of Fairy extraction. We are not, therefore, in Wales void of families of doubtful parentage or origin.
All the current tales of men marrying Fairy ladies belong to a class of stories called, technically, Taboo stories. In these tales the lady marries her lover conditionally, and when this condition is broken, she deserts her husband and children, and hies back to Fairy land.
This kind of tale is current among many people. Max Muller in Chips from a German Workshop vol. II pp. 104-6 records one of these ancient stories, which is found in the Brahamna of Yagur-Veda. Omitting a few particulars, the story is as follows:
“Urvasi, a kind of Fairy, fell in love with Pururavas, son of Ida and when she met him she said: ‘Embrace me three times a day, but never against my will, and let me never see you without your royal garments for this is the manner of women’. In this manner she lived with him a long time, and she was with child. Then her former friends, the Gandharvas, said:
“This Urvasi has now dwelt a long time among mortals, let us see that she come back.” Now, there was a ewe with two lambs, tied to the couch of Urvasi and Pururavas and the Gandharvas stole one of them. Urvasi said: “They take away my darling as if I had lived in a land where there is no hero and no man.” They stole the second and she upbraided her husband again. Then Proves looked and said: ‘How can that be a land without heroes and men where I am?’ And naked he sprang up; he thought it too long to put on his dress. Then the Gandharvas sent a flash of lightning, and Urvasi saw her husband naked as by daylight. Then she vanished: ‘I am come back’ she said, and went.
Puruavas bewailed his love in
bitter grief. But whilst walking along the border of a lake full of lotus flowers, the Fairies were playing there in the water, in the shape of birds and Urvasi discovered him and said:
‘That is the man with whom I dwelt so long’. Then her friends said. ‘Let us appear to him.’ She agreed and they appeared before him. Then the king recognised her and said:
‘Lo! my wife, stay, thou cruel in mind! Let us now exchange some words! Our secrets, if they are not told now, will not bring us back on any later day!’
She replied: ‘What would I do with thy speech! I am gone like the first of the dawns. Puruavaras, go home again. I am hard to be caught, like the wind’.
The Fairy wife by and by relents, and her mortal lover became, by a certain sacrifice, one of the Gandharvas.
This ancient Hindu Fairy tale resembled in many particulars similar tales found in Celtic Folk-lore and possibly the original story in its main features, existed before the Ayrian family had separated. The very words, “I am hard to be caught” appear in one of the Welsh legends, which shall hereafter be given:
“Nidd hawdd fy mala”
“I am hard to be caught”
And the scene is similar: in both cases the Fairy ladies are discovered in a lake. The immortal weds the mortal, conditionally, and for awhile the union seems to be a happy one. But, unwittingly, when engaged in an undertaking suggested by, or in agreement with the wife’s wishes, the prohibited thing is done and the lady vanished away.
Such are the chief features of these mythical marriages. I will now record like tales that have found a home in several parts of Wales.
Welsh Legends of Fairy Ladies Marrying Men
1. The Pentrevoleas Legend.
I am indebted to the Rev. Owen Jones, Vicar of Pentrevoelas, a mountain parish in West Denbighshire for the following tale, which was written in Welsh by a native of those parts and appeared in competition for a prize on the Folk-lore of that parish.
The son of Hafodgarrog was shepherding his father’s flock on the hills and while thus engaged, he, one misty morning, came suddenly upon a lovely girl, seated on the sheltered side of the peat-stack. The maiden appeared to be in great distress and she was crying bitterly. The young man went up to her, and spoke kindly to her, and his attention and sympathy were not without effect on the comely stranger. So beautiful was the young woman, that from the expression of sympathy, the smitten youth proceeded to words of love, and his advances were not repelled. But while the lovers were holding sweet conversation, there appeared on the scene a venerable and aged man, who, addressing the female as her father, bade her follow him. She immediately obeyed, and both departed, leaving the young man alone. He lingered about the place until the evening, wishing and hoping that she might return, but she came not. Early the next day, he was at the spot, where he first felt what love was. All day long, he lingered about the place, hoping that the beautiful girl would pay another visit to the mountain, but he was doomed to disappointment and night again drove him homewards. Thus, daily, went he to the place where he had first met his beloved, but she was not there, and, lovesick and lonely, he returned to Hafodgarrog. Such devotion deserved its reward. It would seem that the young lady loved the young man quite as much as he loved her. And in the land of allurement and illusion (yen nhir hud a lledrith), she planned a visit to the earth, and met her lover, but she was soon missed by her father, and he suspecting her love for this young man came upon them, and found them conversing lovingly together. Much talk took place between the sire and his daughter, and the shepherd, waxing bold, begged and begged her father to give him his daughter in marriage. The sire, perceiving that the man was in earnest, turned to his daughter and asked her whether it were her wish to be married to a man of the earth? She said it was. Then the father told the shepherd he should have his daughter to wife, and that she should stay with him, until he should strike her with iron, and that as a marriage portion, he would give her a bag filled with bright money. The young couple were duly married and the promised dowry was received. For many years, they lived lovingly and happily together, and children were born to them. One day this man and his wife went to the hill to catch a couple of ponies, to carry them to the Festival of the Saint of Capel Garmon. The ponies were very wild and could not be caught. The man, irritated, pursued the nimble creatures. His wife was by his side and now he thought he had them in his power, but just at the moment he was about to grasp their manes, off they wildly galloped, and the man in anger, finding that they had again eluded him, threw the bridle after them, and, sad to say, the bit struck his wife and, as this was of iron, they both knew that their marriage contract was broken. Hardly had they time to realise the dire accident, ere the aged father of the bride appeared, accompanied by a host of Fairies, and there and then departed with his daughter to the land whence she came, and that too, without even allowing her to bid farewell to her children. The money though, and the children were left behind, and these were the only memorials of the lovely wife and the kindest of mothers, that remained to remind the shepherd of the treasure he had lost in the person of his Fairy spouse.
Such is the Pentrevoelas Legend. The writer had evidently not seen the version of this story in the Cambro-Briton nor had he read Williams’s tale of a like occurrence, recorded in Observations on the Snowdon Mountains. The account, therefore, is all the more valuable as being an independent production.
A fragmentary variant of the preceding legend was given me by Mr. Lloyd, late schoolmaster of Llanfibangal-Glyn-Mylyr, a native of South Wales who heard the tale in the parish of Llanfibangel. Although but a fragment, it may not be altogether useless, and I will give it as I received it:
Shon Rolant, Haford y Dre, Pentrevoelas, when going home from Llanrwst market, fortunately caught a Fairy-maid whom he took home with him. She was a most handsome woman, but rather short and slight in person. She was admired by everybody on account of her great beauty. Shon Rolant fell desperately in love with her and would have married her but this she would not allow. He, however, continued pressing her to become his wife and by and by, she consented to do so, provided she could find out her name. As Shon was again going home from the market about a month later, he heard some one saying, near the place where he had seized the Fairy maid: “Where is little Penloi gone? Where is little Penloi gone?” Shon thought that some one was searching for the Fairy he had captured, and when he reached home, he addressed the Fairy by the name he had heard, and Penloi consented to become his wife. [Editor’s Note: This portion of the tale seems to be a variant of a very old legend that has come down to us in the form of the children’s fairy tale Rumpelstiltskin. As with many other ancient peoples, the early Celts believed in both the importance and power of names—which was, after all, a person’s identity, and speaking another’s name would give one power over them.) She, however, expressed displeasure at marrying a dead man, as the Fairies call us. She informed her lover that she was not to be touched with iron or she would disappear at once. [Editor’s Note: Fairies were supposed to have a particular aversion to iron. In certain parts of the Celtic world, iron horseshoes were placed close to a sleeping child until it could be baptised, to prevent it being stolen by the fairy-kind.] Shon took great care not to touch her with iron. However one day, when he was on horseback, talking to his beloved Penloi, who stood at the horse’s head, the horse suddenly threw up its head and the curb, which was of iron, came in contact with Penloi, who immediately vanished out of sight.
The next legend is taken from Williams’s Observations on the Snowdon Mountains. His work was published in 1802. He himself was born in Anglesey, in 1738, and migrated to Carnarvonshire about the year 1760. It was in this latter county that he became a learned antiquary, and a careful recorder of events that came under his notice. His “Observations” throw a considerable light upon the life, the customs and the traditions of the inhabitants of the hill parts and secluded glens of Carnarvonshire. I have thought fit to make these few remarks about the author I quote from, so as
to enable the reader to give him the credence which he is entitled to. Williams entitles the following story “A Fairy Tale”, but I will for the sake of reference, call it “The Ystrad Legend.”
2. The Ystrad Legend
In a meadow belonging to Ystrad, bounded by the river which flows from Cwellyn Lake, they say the Fairies used to assemble, and dance on fair moon-light-nights. One evening a young man who was the heir and occupier of this farm, hid himself in a thicket close to the spot where they used to gambol; presently they appeared, and when in their merry mood, out he bounced from his covert and seized one of their females; the rest of the company dispersed themselves and disappeared in an instant. Disregarding her struggles and screams; he hauled her to his home, where he treated her so very kindly that she became content to live with him as his maid servant; but he could not prevail upon her to tell him her name. Some time after, happening to see the Fairies again upon the same spot, he heard one of them saying: “The last time we met here, our sister Penelope was snatched away from us by one of the mortals”. Rejoiced at knowing the name of his Incognita, he returned home: and, as she was very beautiful and extremely active, he proposed to marry her, which she would not for a long time consent to; at last however she complied but on this condition: ‘That if ever he should strike her with iron, she would leave him and never return to him again’. They lived happily for many years together, and he had by her a son and a daughter; and by her industry and prudent management as a house-wife, he became one of the richest men in the country. He farmed, besides his own household, his own freehold, all the lands on the north side of Nant-y-Bettws to the top of Snowdon and all of Cwmbrynog in Llanberis, an extent of about five thousand acres or upwards.
Unfortunately, one day Penelope followed her husband into the fields to catch a horse; and he being in rage at the animal as he ran away from him, threw the bridle that was in his hand, which unluckily fell on poor Penelope. She disappeared in an instant and he never saw her afterwards, but heard her voice in the window of his room, one night after, requesting him to take care of the children in these words:
